The Day We'll Fight Back

For Independence Day, Binh gathered a small crowd together at The New Cage.

The New Cage is Binh's new apartment, which he recently moved into, maybe a month go. The Old Cage is our old apartment, my brief stint as his absentee roommate. For simplicity, "The Cage" will from hereon just refer to the current one.

Met up with Krys, Ivan, and Gene at the Cage for some beers. Binh had a PC hooked up to his big screen, so Anton being Anton, surfed around YouTube and Entensity, finding fucked up borderline snuff videos to help the alcohol kill our brains.

The latest YouTube craze is apparently a Mad TV skit with Bobby Lee called "Dragon Hunter 2."

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At around midnight, the crew shuffled out to a pub near Town Center, where we quaffed as many pitchers as we could before last call. There was a live band playing.

They sucked.

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Back at the Cage, someone devised a new card game called Ba Cao For Shots.

Someone asked, "How do we play?" To which, Gene replied, "We play Ba Cao ... for shots."

And so we took turns drawing cards and drinking Hen.

Blake and Chu stopped by after a night at some club, and they brought two girls. The chicks were both drunk. And crazy. Not the good crazy.

One of the girls was skinny with a long horse face, and either wore too much make-up or was ghastly pale. She was an attention whore, and made it a point to be loud and announce her presence with inane rambling the moment she stepped into the place.

The other girl was shorter and noteably cuter and slightly less annoying. But equally crazy. She had security issues or something, and at one point in the night, locked herself in the bathroom because she was drunk and was afraid of making a fool of herself. Which, in my personal opinion, was just a tad counterproductive. Her attention whore friend had to console her and remind her that she was a unique and beautiful snowflake.

I was also told, through whispers, that the shorter girl had a forty-some year-old boyfriend that had been lighting up her phone all night. Forty year-old boyfriends are usually a good indication of daddy issues.

The attention whore kept clinging onto Binh's girlfriend and trying to be best friends with the girl, though the whole room could tell she was just trying to sip on Binh's Kool-aid.

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Sometime in the night, the neighbors called the cops because we were too loud. We continued drinking, though in whispers, swearing under our breath at the people around us for trying to lead civilized suburban lives.

The party slowly fizzled and died, and as the sun rose, we one by one bowed out and went home.