Blackberry Vizion

Every morning there is a ritual. It's start times range between 10am-2pm. Waking up with a quench nothing seems to cure, hopefully recognizing your surroundings, and finding your cell-phone. Take a deep breath and observe the embarrassing evidence from last night it's history hold. One of my top 5 favorite activities is to look at the pictures on my phone from the night before. 

At 6 am I text Elise, who is visiting her sister in Davis:

"Hi. Can you pick me up when you are coming into the city. I'm about to fall sleep at a house on Folsom and Twelfth downtown. I will explain later."

All I had were these three pictures and "Dick / Clit," written on each respectable knuckle. 

The evening "began" (at midnight) with a snack of salmon. Obviously, why wouldn't it.

Somewhere along the lines there was a Paris-Hilton-Carl's-Jr-esque photo shoot on some d-bags orange Hummer. The owner barked us away mid-photo when he caught us in the act.

 

The dub-step party that we got to around 2:30 am was no kind of joke. Literally the DJ is bumping sounds of "Did you drink my apple juice," until the sun was rising behind him. A night spent with the most eclectically different people, ranging from 18-45, from sober to possibly overdosed, is something I won't even begin to try to explain. Just bring your sunglasses to wear when you're leaving at 6 am.