10:22 a.m.
I'm gonna take you back, way, way, back, all the way to September 3, 2008. Thus begins my return home, a.k.a. Colorado.
After taking one of my 20 summer vacations to my former state of dwelling back in June, I started getting the itch (The good kind, not the kind you get when you drink 10 Maker's drinks and take home some dude/chick from the bar and don't remember who he or she is the next day when you roll over the next morning to see their markedly less attractive than you thought face.*) to move back. But to just return and pack up all of my belongings would be slightly impulsive of me. And anyone who knows me, knows that I always carefully map out my next move and would never act impulsively. Aha, um, yeah... So, I decided to take a week out of my ever so busy schedule to go to Denver and check out the job market and living situation.
Upon arrival I was greeted by one of the most delightful people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, Stefano. And like any good friend, he brought me a gift - a nice frosty road soda and a flask of Makers that had been in the cooler for about 6 months and tasted a tiny bit like dish soap.
(Different Stefano)
What first night in town would be complete without hitting the town for a bit? None. That was a rhetorical question. We first stopped at some hippie Grateful Deadish bar that had a lovely pungent aroma somewhat like a mixture of dirty New Balance sneakers and sharp cheddar cheese.
Speaking of stinky New Balances... One of my best friends in high school, 007, had the most horrific smelling New Balances that I have ever encountered in my life.
Not only were 007 and I best friends, but we were also next door neighbors and we used to fight like an old married couple. Anyway, one day he thought it would be funny to take his nasty ass sneakers and leave them in my locker. When I went to put up my books, the gaseous fumes immediately filled my lungs causing me to simultaneously throw up my activity period pizza pocket and pass out. There was only one thing I could do now - get revenge.
In one of our classes we had just read this very disturbing article about these backwoods doctors giving dirty abortions with coat hangers.
This was extremely upsetting to 007 and made him somewhat ill. So, the next day during our break I went out to my car and got a coat hanger. I then went to the cafeteria to swipe a few packets of ketchup. I will let you use your imagination to complete this story. Needless to say, he was quite shocked when he opened his locker. Payback's a bitch.
And yes, that story was really disgusting and you will all now probably think less of me. So be it. And now back to my trip...
So, we stayed long enough to have a bourbon and play a game of foosball and we were on our way. Before going home, we decided to try our luck at one more bar - El Chapultepec. The smell was definitely more appealing and the jazz was hipper than hip. So, after one more bourbon that didn't tast like dish soap, we dedided to call it a night. When we got home, Elmer Fudd got in the bed with Karlos Santana Moss and proceeded to do a little man spooning. Stefano and I just went to bed.
*This has never happened to me.
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