Duplex

Got to hit up the city this weekend. My brother was throwing a big holiday bash at a club called Duplex, near Mission and 11th St. It was a swanky joint; narrow, dual level, illuminated dark red and pumping old school hip-hop jams.
I even heard the dopest parachute-pants-doing-the-running-man-song ever, Bell Biv Devo's "That girl is PPOOOOIIISSSOOON!"
That song makes you instantly want to do the running man.
The last time I heard that song, I was at my brother's wedding, shitfaced, doing the running man with the bride in the middle of the dancefloor.
Unfortunately, there is video of that.

So let's count my beverages for Saturday.
First, Luke and I split a 16oz soda bottle of 7&7 like hobos on the walk to the bar.
At the first Bar, a StoliSoda, a shot of Patron Silver, and a stoliRocks. From there we hopped on a bus instead of walking the 8 blocks to get to Duplex.
At Duplex, a stoliSoda, a shot of "tequila", followed by another Stolisoda. Bootie bought me a vodka redbull. And then I poured myself a thick double GreyGoose on the rocks from the bottle in the booth. ... and then I may or may not have had another shot.

Loaded.

I had a really good night though. Kinda sucked not having the ol'lady to get my groove on with. But, I still had fun talking with a bunch of my brother's buddies. One dude I met told me about all the crazy guns he has. He busted out his digital camera and showed me video of some guy unloading a full clip full auto from an AK-47.
I also got to relive our epic road trip through Costa Rica for his bachelor party.

Walsh was kind enough to let Luke, JoeO and me crash on his couches.
I woke up hungover and hungry, so we headed over to St. Francis Fountain for breakfast. I quickly pounded back a strawberry milkshake and labored to finish my bacon and eggs. They were delicious, perfectly crispied herbaceous homefries and eggs over-medium. But, I just couldn't manage to eat em all.

I spent the rest of the morning lying around at Stroker's pad. By the time I got home I was dead.