One Hot Disaster.... It's Been Too Long.

FLASH IS BACK.

I recently read back through the OHD blog and couldn't stop laughing and I realized that it would be a true tragedy to let this blog die away, especially when our lives are no less What-The-Fuck-Tastic than they've always been. If anything, mine has only gotten more so as I've come to realize that impractical drinking is not what is responsible for my hilarious shit show of a life, its just the way I am. Great. So, I'm writing now to bring our readers back and I hope that Miss Mount Vernon and Rio will be close behind me.

Lets talk about New Years Eve. As many of you know, I have quite a fantastic track record of performances on NYE assisted in part by SoCo/Lime shots, hot tubs and men named after fish (or Florida baseball teams). This year, I set off for NYE assuming that it would be comparatively tame to those in the past and resigning myself to a life of being a grown up. Fate disagreed and I once again found myself in strange circumstances.

After several hours of imbibing in quality plastic 2 liter bottle beer, friends and I hit the open air town plaza at about 11:45 to ring in the New Year. I no longer live in the United States, but rather in a country whose laws sometimes are a little more dangerously lax or unenforced which was strikingly apparent as we entered the square. A slew of 14-15 year old boys were running wildly through this plaza throwing lit Roman Candles into the air, at people, onto the ground, wherever. One of my friends served as a croc spotter of sorts, identifying where firecrackers had landed and steering us clear of losing a limb. Firecrackers, though, were tame.

The real spectacle was the illogical use of firearms: at times, it sounded like a Compton gang war with several people wielding pistols and shooting them off into the air in celebration of the New Year. My favorite was a drunk man dressed in a head to toe Santa suit, poppin off rounds as he walked around and laughed. GREAT. No dangers there. None at all. Weirdly, this happens more frequently than you may expect. I wake up every now and then to gunfire in the middle of the night and two days ago, as I sat in my living room, I could hear someone firing off rounds somewhere close by. There's been like one murder in this country ever but people love to shoot their guns off to celebrate.

After making it through the war zone alive, we arrived at a classy discotecque where we used our status as boozehound Americans to side step the entry fee. This club was just.... the stuff of dreams. Blood and glass on the floor, a haze of cigarette smoke, drunk seventeen year olds humping each other on the dance floor. My ideal. So we spent about 3 hours dancing the night away with a bunch of eastern European teenagers and drinking for cheap. Later that night, we returned home where I was assaulted by a cat for a few hours before finally getting fed up and karate kicking it across a room.

I'll never grow up, motherfuckers. Rio? Miss Mount V? Take it away.