so, as some of the people who frequent this haunt do, i live in a punk rock house. a semi-dilapedated home held together by rubber bands and popsicle sticks. it is not unusual to come home and find random people sleeping on our couch(es) or pat vogel making a horrible racket in the basement.
last night though, was different.
i came home to find this:
yes, THAT. a dog in a fucking-fur coat. the next thing i know a gypsy is standing in front of me asking "What do you think of my dog's fur coat?"
At that began a nexus in time which i must say is one of the most surreal experiences i have ever had a chance encounter with. Imaging a gentleman, dressed completely in Carhartt brown. Brown courderoys, a brown shirt, a brown vest, and a brown, green, and lavender paisley tie. His companion brown pants, jackboots, and a ripped sweater and captains hat. Beards adorned the lot of them. Throughout the evening they discussed politics and were some of the most skilled video game players i have even encountered. The gentleman in the tie posessed razor sharp accuracy in Halo2, the other an affinity for murder and brigandry ala Grand Theft Auto: Vice City. It turns out they're "Friends of Katy's" and "will be staying for a while"
