Where to begin with this sordid tale of sadness, drunken debauchery, tears and fear? Ye gods, I don’t even know if a particular portion would even be safe to publish, but in the name of faux journalists everywhere, I must report the meager yet revealing details of the extracurricular activities, including my own spiritual and mental degradation over the course of a most rock’n’roll weekend where more booze entered my body than any other substance, including (but not limited to) food and weed. So, after a brutal nine hour drive through capricious weather (thanks, Poseidon) with only the radio and a Tenacious D CD to anoint our battered souls and posting up at the wondrous Sheraton in order to stage our siege on the unsilent streets of the ‘More, we re-acquainted ourselves with the hilly and alien climes, as we had been here before (myself being deployed a second time), no stranger to its seething underbelly of prostitution, drugs, and all-around degeneracy. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. And join ’em we did, but more on that later. Continue reading →