Thursday, July 15, 2010

Fort Meth

Last night, Shanon and I had planned to go watch "Labyrinth" in the park by my house, since that movie rules, but the rain decided to pee all over our Spandexed Bowie party so we did the next logical thing; bought a handle of vodka, built a fort in my living room, put Jurassic Park on the VCR and invited Gandy over to make collages with themes we picked for each another.

After about an hour, we looked around at one another, each huddled over our pile of magazine scraps in what looked like a hamster den and dubbed our structure Fort Meth. Crocodile Dundee seemed like a good choice for our next feature film, so we put that bad boy on and continued our collaging. Then I knocked over Gandy's drink. Then he kicked over my drink. Then Shanon spilled her drink on the couch. And at one point I remember crawling out of the Fort on my hands and knees in order to dodge carnage from a fart-bomb Gandy set loose. Then we had a slumber party. The end.

But! Luckily I documented our methy arts and crafts night this morning. Let's start with Shanon's masterpiece, whose theme I chose to be "Waycism."

Nailed it! She said she was going for a "Seventeen" magazine feel and I think she killed it. Even made racist fun of a baby! And I have no clue what pants shitter has to do with racism, but that made me laugh so hard I almost earned the title myself.

My theme, thanks to Shanon, was "Raining Peen." But you don't have to take my word for it...

Obvs had to make it dong-shaped and threw in a sprinkling of racism in myself, you know. Because.

Now we jointly agreed that Gandy's theme would be "Surprise Sex" ("Rape" in layman's terms). And oh. Muh. Guh. He made it huge, so it's a two parter...

Yes, he went there. Baby fisting. When in Fort Meth...

Portraits of us and our pieces de resistance:

Balls-out racism.

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