Sometimes I wonder what I did to be able to count so many talented people amongst my friends. When my Ma once told me I was just one lucky bastard, she may have been onto something.

Johnny had a live painting thing yesterday, and because I’m dodo-brained dingbat, I didn’t have the forethought to show up earlier to watch him paint.

“You actually came!” he says
“I almost got run over by a bus!” I reply
“I think I’m done”

Paraphrasing, but that’s the gist of it. Actually, most everyone was done by that point, or finishing up. So because I’m a terrible friend, not only did I refuse to let him take a photo of me and Michelle in front of his piece, I made HIM stand in front of it instead so I could take awkward photos. When he was done making faces, he walked us to the other end of the street to look at his “friend Greg’s piece”, and I squeed silently because this is said friend, and my college self was dying with envy.


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