viva la mexico!

my memory is that of an old person. it goes in and out. mostly i forget the good things that happen, so i'm writing them all down while i still can.

terror did a string of CA dates one weekend before going to Mexico. Brooke and i had this brilliant idea (again with the brilliant ideas) to go down to tijuana with big zack and dre. the car ride was a long one with cameos by cock sparrer and guns n roses, and a rest stop in dana point to pee.
we parked the escape at the border of America, went to the duty free store for i don't remember what (probably diet coke and the biggest bottle of Bacardi they had) , and crossed the border to enter what might be one of the sketchiest nights of my life.

we hailed a cab and the driver was a young dude playing some terrible rap music. i remember looking at Brooke and holding on for dear life and thinking to myself "i am not going to make it out alive tonight."
we arrived at the venue, which was right next to a liquor store. in Mexico, 19 is old enough to buy alcohol, so fuck yea. i bought a bottle of oso negro which broke my bank at a whopping $8.00 (and may i add..shit was like, the grey goose of Mexico) and a sprite. Brooke bought a large sol which tasted identical to blood. we sat outside the venue and drank for a long time. andy appeared randomly. we made phone calls on our cell phones (internationally), sang a song about the sketchy black bag, zack put nick jett and Brooke on his shoulders, and before we knew it, terror went on.

now, i don't remember ANYTHING during terror. but after terror, i peed on the sidewalk around a corner and everyone took turns trying to wipe my drawn on eyebrows off. if my memory suits me, i was asking people FOR A SHARPIE. when in Mexico, do as the Mexicans do.

some stuff happened between then and the time we got to the hong kong bar, but I'm not really sure. Tijuana is loud and dirty and smells like ghetto dogs. man, fuck onions. they're so gross. i remember alot of hookers standing in doorways. i especially remember alot of sol being drank at the hong kong bar. i think someone successfully wiped off my eyebrows, so i went upstairs and used an AIDS eyeliner from a stripper/hooker to draw my brows back on. of course i sharpened it first. what are ya, stupid or somethin'?

Brooke and i were sitting with a stripper (i think), when all of a sudden a sketchy blurry faced man with a Polaroid in hand comes up behind us and said "hey, can i take a picture of you guys?"
i turned around and pointed to dre and zack and said "HEY! GO ASK THEM!"
apparently an altercation happened where this man asked zack if he could purchase me and Brooke. "how much for your girls?" he asked. zack's (obvious) reply: "they're not for sale."
I've heard a few versions of this story. one has him and his posse threatening with a knife. one has him and his posse threatening with a gun. one has him threatening to come back with his posse and then he comes back with his posse and flashes a gun and asks zack again how much it would be to purchase us. either way, this dude fucking tried to purchase us and that is wild.

oh i should mention that somewhere in this, Luis got naked with not one but two strippers in shaving cream and there is a Polaroid of it. Brooke also had a conversation in spanish with another stripper and rumor has it, put her face in her vagina. i do not believe that for one second.

we left hong kong bar after Brooke and Luis slow danced and Brooke asked me for a hairtye. i couldn't walk anymore; i was officially Ralph status. for those of you who don't know Ralph, i was blacked out. i probably did a bunch of jump twirls, talked alot of shit and probably almost got someone beaten up.

when we got to the border, i was so afraid i wouldn't get back across to America. i remember that i rehearsed in my head how to say "the united states of America" over and over. of course, when the guard asked me, there was absolutely no doubt that my stupid idiot drunk ass was from the USA.

on the way home (which i am assuming was around 4am), i asked Brooke for mcdonalds. once we got it, i vomited. so much for the fucking fries or hashbrowns or whatever the fuck it was. i passed out all the way home and felt like a royal dick head the entire day. i will never go to Tijuana again unless a large man i am friends with (that i know will take care of me) comes with.

hangovers suck. hong kong bar, on the other hand, does not.