So I went to this dive bar called Bunkers last night, and nothing I against the place (normally I hear it’s pretty lit, and they also got cheap beer so that’s cool), but there was something about the vibe that just wasn’t doing it for me. Maybe it was on account of the fact that the DJ managed to play BOTH the cupid shuffle and cha cha slide at the same gig like he got booked for some belittling six year old’s birthday party.
Anyways we got a couple pitchers and a pool table, and while sitting in my state of disillusionment (which you could argue is pretty characteristic, regardless of situation), I saw these two fairly-pathetic looking dudes dap each other up. One of asks the other:
“Yo son, whatchu gettin’ into tonight?”
“Oh, you know. Just that Friday shit”
The fear of knowing what he means by “that Friday shit” is what motivates me in life.