Studiocchio
Friday night was a first when I geared up to go to the End Up, made my little way in, and was promptly accused by a female security guard of inappropriately touching other girls in the club. Agog, I explained to her that I’d spent the last hour or so on the side of the dancefloor having a few drinks before dancing for the last five minutes, at which time I was accosted by a young black guy in a white sequined shirt (blech, I know) who was high out of his mind and started hugging me. My maternal instinct kicked in, and I took him out to patio area to make sure he was okay when she approached me.
I think she mistook the white guy in the black shirt for the black guy in the white shirt. Either that or it was a fucking full moon on Friday the thirteenth.
That new Schick Quatro Bikini Trimmer commercial is a bit much. It features chicks heading out on the town to shop, on their way out to play tennis, sunbathing by the pool, and in the background, bushes neatly form into upside down triangles. I mean, I’m all for keeping one’s nether regions neatly trimmed, but that’s some pretty fuckin’ transparent symbolism if you ask me.
I’m in love with Google maps. I’ve been missing Santa Barbara a bit recently (I went to college there, and haven’t been back since graduation), and hopped right onto Google to take a trip down memory lane. Got it out of my system. Won’t be booking a ticket there. Peace, Reece’s!
