queer and loathing

Broken noses on Bourbon Street

Tonight, as I was riding my bike in the general direction of work, my friend Randy calls me.

First the back story: Randy, as you should know, is a good friend and ex-drinking buddy of mine. In the last few months, Randy and I have both cut our drinking down way down from… like 13 hours a day to about 5 hours a month.

He, however, also lost about 60 pound and looks absolutely faaabulous.

Anyway, since he’s been drinking so much less, his tolerance is way down. When he called tonight, he tells me that around 3am last night he got trashed for the first time in months and made a scene at the bar because he could barely walk and wouldn’t accept an escort home. Randy then proceeded to storm out of the bar, falls down on a concrete staircase, landing on his face braking his nose and dislocating his shoulder.

Oh, he also had a seizure in the ambulance on the way to the emergency room.

How was your day.

Oh, and BIANCA’S back at bingo!