You guys know me, and you guys know I’m always down for ANYTHING. But last night, let me tell you, wow guys, let me tell you, wow guys, things got, wow guys, pretty wild.
So after Pierre and I got done stompin’ around the city, beating up the locals and drinkin’ all their wine, I decided to put on my party shirt and test my mettle against these darn Frenchies.
Aw-hecky-naw, I’m gonna hit this city.
With swagger on my person, I took it to the streetz. First I wandered into the hostel to get settled and figure out where all the hot spots were. I met a lovely French fellow named Concierge. He was cool at first but then got busy talking to his girlfriend. Lame.
Got no time for that man, because I’m lookin’ to score. IN A BIG WAY. So I made some cool Euro friends at the hostel. And these dudes looked like some hard core club kidz.
I tried to get them to go out but I didn’t want to be a third wheel. Cuz then I’d feel like a real stick in the butt.
So it looks like good ole Andy Kush Smush Kush is ridin’ stag. No bother brother. Y’alll know I ain’t goin home alone. BOOM CITY.
I hear these Euro night clubs are all the rage, where the players come to play and the good chicks go astray.
So I rolled up to the club like a boss and with drink in hand, posted up right by the stage ready to meet my future French wife. It was str8 up poppin’ in there y’all, and with some liquid courage I felt totally submerged in the culture. I was like Matthew McConaughey, feelin’ allllll… U-571.
But security was crazy uptight at the club and they just couldn’t handle my partying prowess. Listen up ladiezz, I live by one motto, and one motto only: “party hard or die trying”… which is actually a subset of my one true motto: “Laters USA!”… which is really only a portion of the credo that I live by which goes a little something like this: “I’m on vacation y’alll!”… But… like, I guess, that’s just a state of mind more than anything else, ya know? Anywhooo, THAT CLUB WAS DUMB AND STUPID AND I DON’T CARE ABOUT ANYONE THERE.
Besides, all the chicks there were dogs.
Luckily my cool Euro friends were waiting for me back at the hostel, and they were readaaayyyyy to partaaaayyyy their tushaaaayyyys off.
Oh man, they’re so crazy. I could barely keep up with them. Crazy bitches.
Then I just str8 up passed out.
God damn, we are best friends and it will always be that way.
I feel like I’ve all ready owned all of Paris, might as well call me Hitl– nope, nevermind, don’t do that.
The next few days are still up in the air, and my next destination is still unknown. I’m a rolling stone y’alll. I’m planning on interviewing a local chef to try and get behind the enigma that is Parisian cuisine. We’re gonna talk baguettes and brioches, so buckle up because it should get pretty wild and nasty.