EPTAfterwards, we sadly had to ditch the sheep for they do not allow sheep in bars currently, bringing us down to...
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...a slim four. With bumatlarge being a bum, he picked up the legendary Hepatitis glove, picked up from off of the sidewalk and worn to the end of the night, despite it's dubious origins.
As it seems to happen whenever you give starcraft nerds alcohol, we suddenly break into intense conversations about, you guessed it, Starcraft. Ranging from proleague to how much of a boss Jang Min Chul is, to how terrfiying banshees are to Fuck Hwaesung Oz. Soon, the pitcher was empty, and since none of us had any real plans to get stumbling drunk, we followed the legendary stomach of Phelix
11 blocks (you're an asshole, by the way, Phelix. It was 25 degrees out. You could have told us in advance we were going to goddamn 53d.) To Mcdonalds where... What... Wh...
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What the fuck IS that? Is that...
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Oh god. we couldn't even talk anymore. Ben motherfucking stiller was staring at us. And he wouldn't leave us the fuck alone. his glare pierces your soul, and his gesture reminds you that he'll always be watching you. Unable to eat or talk, we tried to escape from the Mcdonalds in which we sat. Our terrified cries were unheard as the streets lay bare. We found solace in our destination of the halal food cart on 53rd street, but nothing, not even the wondrous smells of food could wash away that feeling.
Nothing.
Merry fucking christmas. :|
