one night only

I've put myself under house arrest until I finish the papers I got extensions on, but I HAD to see Mike. If I had a main man, Mike would be my main man. He is a crucial dude. He is a buddy and pal. He has a mustache, which I think says it all.

I have no idea what he is doing in this photo, NONE AT ALL, but I am sure it is totally innocent. Like daisies and puppies.


THE MUSTACHE. I AM FASCINATED.


Wooooooo, caaaaar. The caaaaaar I have to driiiiiiive.


This sign said "Cullen St" and I got embarrassingly excited.


He called my destroyed jeans "slutty" and I showed him my fierce tai chi moves. It was great.

and away we go!

Texas summers are a bitch, so I decided my jeans needed some ventilation.

Using some unfortunately named razor blades:


I shredded the shit out of them:


... and they came out looking like I'd been attacked by a small animal of some kind. But like a really PUNK one:


jeans, Levis; shirt, Diesel