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9:56 p.m. - 2005-03-28
We're All About the Penis
After I got done with all the recent template changes (and by the way, Lando, the pictures were selected for their purely aesthetic properties, and not because the albums pictured are necessarily the best example of the artists represented...and furthermore, I thought we had established that I could whip your ass at Trivial Pursuit already), I was going to post an entry regarding the adventures of BFRB, Vix, and myself on Friday. I'll get to that. However, while I was composing said blog entry, which was also going to feature some lame talk about feelings, and shit, something happened which drove this completely out of my mind.

The crack house across the street caught on fire. Again.

Now, you may remember from Unemployment: The Photo Essay (which I'm not linking, because stupid Diaryland ate all my pictures, and I don't want to upload them again right this minute) that there was a lovely house for rent across the street, and next door to this property was a partially burned crack house.

Well. Its second burning was an occasion for quite the block party here in the ghetto.

Here are some pictures of the flames:

And here are some pictures of the five fire engines, four police cars, two fire chief trucks, assorted news vans, and the truck from the electric company:

Here are some shots of the crowd. These are taken looking in each direction from the front of our building. We didn't know this many people LIVED on our street, ya'll. I mean, I suppose we did, in some theoretical sense, but really, we never see anyone but the fools who think we might give them money.

And here's a closeup. The girl with the short hair and the blond guy live across the street, and we hung out with them for a while. They were very cool.

During that conversation, we discussed THEIR next door neighbors (which is the building on the other side of the burning crack house). Apparently, they live next to a bunch of...lesbians. You would not believe the reluctance with which they relayed this information. I guess they thought BFRB and I might be. Everyone else thinks that, anyway. (And I should state at this point that I wouldn't have given a shit about her description of the neighbors if I was a lesbian.) However, BFRB assured them that we were "all about the penis."

Here's some of what we saw during this conversation:

Of course, by this point, the local media was out in force. Camera crews galore.

However, the local still photographer was the best. He was this older hippie guy, beard and hair everywhere, and he had the most awesome van of all time. What is it about people in this state pimping their rides with stickers?? At least his didn't feature anything about "W"....

We're positive there was no one in the building. It was condemned after the first fire...and anyway, there were no ambulances or medical examiners or anything. Hopefully now they will bulldoze that shit already...and our friendly neighborhood crack ho's will find a new place to chill.

Now, on to the Friday night loopiness.

We went to see some local bands at Bricktown Live. It's a good venue for listening to music, but their drink prices are a little steep. However, the music we were listening to kind of ... ahem...sucked. Plus, I was in one of my "no one loves me" moods for a while. If I get desperate, I may post the silliness I was writing in this picture:

The music was so lame, it prompted Vix to do a little Sharpie tatooing.

After we finally finished our business there (Vix & BFRB were covering the event for SugarBuzz), we went to go see another band. An actual good band. At an actual better bar. We had a blast there. BFRB even got to meet Eeyore!

The firefighters are still out there playing with their hoses. It's been 4 hours. We can only hope that what they are doing involves demolishing yon crack house with their axes.



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