live

I'm completely lit up. Naturally, it's time to post on the blog. Currently, Mike is even more wasted than me. This is the nth level of sketchy. He's "fucking had it" (his words exactly)...I'll transcribe as it unfolds...

Mike: Dude...it smells like fucking puke in here.
P.j.: What?
M: Puke...it smells like ralph all over the goddamn place. What the hell did you do?
P: Nothing, man...you're insane.
M: No!!! What the fuck did you DO in here?
P: I didn't do anything...
M: Holy fuck it reeks in here...and whose fucking belt is this?
P: What?
M: Something fucking smells horrible!
P: Well, I can't imagine what it would be. I did cook a bagel pizza...with provolone...
M: Provolone!!
P: Man, it's not the cheese.
M: It is! It totally is! The whole house smells like ass!
P: I don't know what you're talking about...
M: It amazes me that you can't smell this fucking shit...
P: I've got nothing.
M: It smells like barf...the whole fucking place...I'm throwing that provolone out tomorrow...jesus, how can you NOT smell that?
P: I just ate it! It's fine!
M: I usually lock all the doors...but I'm leaving everything open to get rid of this puke smell...
P: (suppressing hysterical laughter) ummm...sure...
M: (breaks out the dustbuster)
P: Does that help? Vacuuming the fucking carpet? Seriously, someday I'm gonna tie your hands behind your back and you're gonna have to watch me fold a map incorrectly.
M: I'll put a piece of provolone on your fucking tombstone.
P: I'll provolone you.

And that...is living with a sibling. Bottoms up.