we were making hamburger helper as my second dinner and a part of my "weigh as much as normal people weigh" plan when you kicked open the front door, screamed "SHUT UP!" and ran off to your room laughing.
for the most part, travis and i paused, and then went back to making the hamburger helper.
but after too much silence, we went to find you passed out on your bed-- wearing your shoes and cuddling your handle of gin.
sammy and tyler-- who had received a drunken call from you earlier-- came by to see what sort of chaos might be being caused and we debated over drawing on your face (you did have your shoes on, after all), but you punched tyler in the face and were awake too soon.i think you made a steak, lit the hookah, knocked the hookah over, burned your bed and then climbed out of the bathroom window in a span of an hour.
we all crawled after you, trying to be sure you were okay, and as soon as we were outside, we realized you had just made the best drunken decision ever.
the window lead to the fire escape we could never find and that fire escape lead to the roof that we'd never been atop.
and that roof had a view worth every moment of struggle climbing up ladders while carrying a beer.
i'll have to go back up on a fog-less night or day and take more. the golden gate bridge is viewable from the other end of the roof.*so, thank you, simon. thank you for being drunk and discovering what a wondrous view we have. we may have never otherwise found it.
i say a roof-top barbecue is in direct order.
refreshedly,
president wishnack
*UPDATE: i should've known finding a day when the bridge is not covered in fog is slightly harder than it sounds.
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