Thursday night was quite a journey. I was working on storyboards for my upcoming video for shamelady when Kyle mentioned he was going to the Sweet Basil to take Prada P. on a dinner date. I had washed down my third beer and decided to crack open a bottle of wine when RTB mentioned we go to the Basil Bar for a drink. [Sigh] There was work to be done, but without hesitation I said fuck it .

We arrived at the bar and found it to be a mini Saucebox without any of the attitude. I launched upstairs to see what Kyle was up to, but seeing him seated around the white table cloth with a basket of fruit and candle lit faces, I just couldn't do it. I said fuck this and headed back down. RTB ordered two basil martinis. I guess this is why you go to this place. I was down for anything at this point and two of those later dreams of cheap beats were starting to fade away.

At this point in the night the entire bar was engaged in conversation. The women talked about the OC and the men talked about crass ego boosting sidebars. In fact, it turned into an OC night as the bartender cranked up the volume and suddely even I was engaged in the fucker.

Kyle finally came down with Prada P. and ordered us a round of makey make . Fuhck, I thought, but was too caught up in my nonesense to give a shit. He had high praise for the dipping appetizers. I wanted to ask about the basket of fruit, but decided it was probaly a discussion I ddin't want to get into. Apparently, RTB and I were hammered. The evening probably should have ended there but RTB thought we should call up Buck. Mike Buck, that is, and yes he likes to Fuck... it. He was out with three ladies of various bra techniques. They were in bloom at Cassidy's appetizing on a fried onion.

The story of buck. He is but a young lad on his way to becoming another Kyle and Jason. Drinking way too much and dreaming of ways to slay whatever dragons that impede his way. In Mike's case it is getting laid as many times as possible. Then again, I guess that is the overall mission. Kyle seeks maximum monetary click-throughs, and I seek to make a decent picture. However, five paragraphs later and I'm really just trying to stall what happened next.

Taking one for the team, RTB and I decided to follow Mike and his fair breasted three to CC Slaughters where they were to meet with the happy fellow. Mike felt pretty uncomfortable in his skin and it's easy to feel for the guy when you're being hit on by every passing body. I've seen it enough times to be comfortable, but when it's your first time it can be a little overwhelming. The ladies felt safe, but when my ass was air pumped to the tun e of Joy Division's, Love Will Tear Us Apart, I thought It would be best to sit down for the remainder of the evening. It wasn't just a quick thrust, run to the friends and giggle stunt. No, it was a slow passionate rotating thrust like a seal on its back using its weight to maneuver to maximum impregnation. What is with black lights at clubs? I was unprepared for them and looked like a walking Pollock painting. I hate fucking black lights.

In the end it was worth it. Buck got to take home one of the badgers and I, well, had my first fuhck it evening of 2005.