I hate Malboro Lights. I tell you, they are complete and utter bollocks. The hip crowd chooses to name them 'slut butts' and i happily concur, that is what they are. Period.Last night, after an entire day of moping about and doing AP US History homework, i finally made it to Eitan's house for a lovely evening full of underage drinking and smoking in the dark alleys of the richest neighborhoods in Puerto Rico. Seeing as everyone in the party, sans two or three people, wags their finger on smoking cigarettes (yet, of course, they smoke and drink everything else, the morally hypocritical bastards), we found ourselves lacking a pack to smoke. I had my perfectly tacky pseudo-Zippo lighter i bought in Paris, it has a fake leather covering and the fire turns green, why thank you, but nothing to light. So, we all went on Daniela's car to the nearest gas station. It was pitch black besides one flickering light in the store. Gino and Francisco told me that since I apparently looked the oldest, I should go out and buy the pack. On account of I chose not to lose my v-card by getting raped by a sketchy gas station attendant, I instead decided to stay in the car and persuade the others to find another gas station. Which we did. And me and María successfully bought a pack of those horrendous little tar sticks. Seeing as returning to the party and lighting up there would have horrendous little consequences, we instead drove to some random, and might I say deathly dark, street and sat around on someone's lawn and smoked for a bit. We returned to the party. They apparently had a professional bartender. (Welcome to Saint John's, darlings), who gladly served me dumb amounts of alcohol. I felt like quite the adolescent idiot for the whole night, in and out of giggle fits and vulgar comments.
So..yeah, that's my anecdote for the day. Now i'm off to continue studying for my APUSH exam. meh.
(photo above by ryan mcginley)
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