ouchie

I have to mention before this story, I have not been out to downtown in months. My life has been mellow, I've been productive, and everything is under control. Then I find out Ryan is coming to Miami for the weekend. OhFUCK.
Well it all started Thursday morning when I picked up Ryan and Parag at the FTL airport. We went immediately to some diner in lauds, ate a dank breakfast, and had our first round of drinks at 10am. We were "killing time," until some meeting (that never happened) so we decided to go to FTL beach for another couple rounds of mimosas. The boys finally admitted the meeting was never happening, so after hotboxing my car on i95, we took a short detour to Guitar Center, where Parag bought headphones, and Ryan and I made gangster beats on some machine. I have no idea how long we were in the store, but we were having so much fun that I almost didn't want to leave.
Then I remembered we were going to the Gansevort. Yeahhhh. Found a lucky parking spot (which I only mention because that's usually impossible anywhere on Collins Ave), and planted my ass on a lounge chair at the rooftop pool deck. Fast forward 4 Amstel Lights later, the boys come down, with company (Sean and Mike, the craziest kids I know), and we took the party upstairs, where a bottle of __________insert whatever we were drinking here________ and some Buds were passed around.
I was so retarded at that point that I made Paige talk me through the drive home, especially through the BK line for cheesy tots (which burn the shit out of your mouth if you're not patient) and some weird sandwich that I don't want to talk about consuming, as it will make me gag.
Crappy part of this awesome day was that Jonas really wanted to go out, and even after a shower and a solid fast food meal, I was in no shape to get out of his bed. So I was a party-pooper, big time. Oops.
Friday. What the hell happened Friday? I went to visit Jonas at work and he took me out on the Shake a Leg boat to see the islands he works on. We drank smoothies and hung out for a bit. It was pretty cool. And thennnn I went on my friend's boat and drank a bunch of vodka. That's all I can really say about that. Only because that's all I can gather together at this point. I somehow made it to Dakota's apartment in downtown. We drank more. I ate cuban french fries. Fast forward to about 11pm and we're at the Vagabond, drinking $1 PBRs, and just as I thought my night couldn't get any more retarded-- enter Ryan. Fuck. So they dj'ed.... I think..... And I ended up going back to the Gansevort with them, seeing 2 shifts of people come through the suite. I get overcome with exhaustion and decide it's time to go to bed so I made Parag let me sleep in his room, until I somehow end up going back out to the party....
Morning: an hour and a half of sleep because I told Jonas I'd watch his beach volleyball tournament in Hollywood. It's 8am and I am completely disoriented, and I almost killed Ryan in his sleep. I blame all this on him. I get my shit together, and realize 1 of my flipflops is stuck under the fold-out couchbedshit and I decide to ditch the shoes, and take a BAREFOOT walk of shame down into the swanky-ass lobby, down Collins Ave, to my car, where I have TWO parking tickets. WTF. So I may or may not have pulled myself over to vomit on the way to hollywood beach. May.
I got to the beach, felt pretty decent for a few hours, ate some pizza, then felt once again, like I was hit by a mack truck, so I sat in 90 minutes of traffic back to Miami. I ignored a total of 9 phone calls, and only texted a few people back because my motor skills were that of a wobbly toddler. The rest of the day was spent in bed. Sunday, too. There you have it.

Thanks for a great weekend, Ryan!
f u die