Hey gang,
What's up? I'm nursing a hangover so serious that I couldn't even bathe properly (just brush teeth, hair, dirt off shoulders, hood up, eyes down). I know some of you feel the same.
A red haired lady who gave birth to me will be bringing sandwiches to this office, and politics, nationalism and anthems are on the menu.
When I felt like this, I used to skateboard (if I could) or walk (if I could) to a restaurant called The Chelsea Bun where they cured this feeling. Plus, you'd be sitting there, dominating the cheesiest breakfast allowed by law and look over from your seat on the patio to go "Hey what's up Bob?"
And Bob says: "Ssstrrruuuuggllle-ing mate..."
I've got literally a gallon of blueberry and raspberry juice blend. Steve Miller on the Hi Fi and smokes.
It's not the bun, but it's a living.
Watch this, it'll help.
1 comment:
King of the 'oo?
Feel ya. I still have Bun flashbacks, wake up in odd places covered in fried yolk and bacon pieces.
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