So I know I said I’d post a whole buttload of pics from the Met on Saturday once I got my hands on J-Rab’s camera, but having gone through the pics she took, they were kinda ok, not really mind-blowing.
Still though, here’s a nice pic of J-Rab and I sitting on a couch / giant flower that went well with my red and black 1930’s gangster get up.
It was such an intense fucking party, seriously. And at the end of it all, the kind folks from Road Trip drove us home for free as part of the package.
Would I recommend entering every goddamn competition known to man to win tickets to the J&B main marquee for next year’s Met?
Does the pope shit in the woods?
Oh yeah, and incidentally we did bet on the horses if you were wandering and pretty much lost everything, which is officially my excuse for the copious amounts of tequila that followed and the awesome / mildly terrifying moves I was whipping out on the dancefloor.
Good times I tell ya, good times.