Not So Foxy Roxy

Why, oh why, do I insist on following my friends to the Roxy.

Went for a little Jagr Bomb extravaganza that G. and J. were a part of, and though the domino effect Jagr Bombs were pretty nifty, nearly most of the crew didn't even get to partake (lots of pushing and grabbing for those free drinks).

Not that I minded all that much.

Especially in light of that fact that the Roxy floor constantly smells like beer, Jagr and something else funky -- quite the turn off.

At least R.'s inebriated eyes/slurring sentences kept me and Stefanucci from the brink of boredom. And the 60 year old guy in the black cowboy hat trying to get his groove on with the ladies was pretty damn funny, too.

Big day tomorrow. Good night, team.

xo
Haute Hippie