Trevor: a tribute.

First of all, before I even start, congrats to Dustin on the opening of his new shop. Thanks for having us.

We ended up at Amsterdam Rhino, and guess who was there?
Trevor (yessssss).

Trevor was biting from the get-go, so I knew it was going to be a good night.

La Swan took it easy on the chairs. Trevor took it easy with her (for like two seconds).

Trevor turned into an old gritty sailor at some point, and shared some sea-stories with Pickle (I guess that's what happened? Trevor looks awfully Maritimey).

It's nice to be around someone at my level sometimes (especially when they wear their shirts like an 80's teenybopper).

So, I'm dancing and rapping like I normally do, and guess who's pants kept falling down? Yep, you guessed it. It's okay, though, because:
1. It's Trevor
2. It was only like a billion degrees in there, and it must have felt kinda nice.
Guess who was soaked in beer and various other drinks by like 10:30? Nope, not Trevor this time. Me.

Things get a little fuzzy here, but snippets of the night include a wasted dude trying to get us to go to the Rose and Crown, Crystal's pizza that kinda made me want to throw up, What's Up's basement, more gin, a minivan, a soggy cheque, and Ali G before bed.


What happens when you mix margaritas, pink girly wine, JD, cabernet, and about a billion gin and sodas? I don't really know, but it doesn't feel very nice the next morning (thanks to dim sum and gatorade, I pulled through).

~sarah p.