It basically went down like this:
- I crashed some house party near Homestead
- My friend showed up with a mason jar full of whiskey sour
- Fashion tip: mason jars are the new hip flask
- He claimed there was half a bottle of whiskey in the jar, but I figured he was just exaggerating and went to task
- The next thing I know, it’s 10a.m., my laundry is washed, most of the dishes are clean, and I feel like I drank half a bottle of Seagram’s.
- I decided to bike to Muir Beach rather than wallow around the city
- I found the goddamn Tonayense truck on Highway 1
