"do you think it was a matter of galactic importance, and mr. roboto saved him from an otherwise inescapable doom?"

Last night, in an effort to reintroduce the dance party into our lives, we headed back out to bushwick, which, as it seems is quite the happenin' place. Jason Sigal, from Bennington and Brown, was playing a show with his band, Get Him Eat Him. So, ju ju and I plowed our way there, thank god the L was running. interesting venue, ju ju and i pondered the implications of lighting the audience better than the performers. after we figured out that no one was dancing and we downed a sparks and pbr, we left to go and meet up for a quick night cap with will and paul.
the best part of the night, by far was when ju ju and i were winding down at 171 avenue a and ms. zoe friedman waltzes in, sauced and highly entertaining. playing, for us, what she considers to be the best song ever made, 'mr. roboto', she contemplated the storyline behind the acclaimed piece. (see title). we were then graced by the sick and twisted story of zoes sex life, including the many games her and lannon play in order to 'spice things up'. these included racial slurs, auschwitz references and zoe pretending to be a 'retarded girl looking for a creamy lollipop'. alltogher, hilarity. she swears she was joking... something tells me the censorship faction of the brain is pretty compromised after a pitcher and a half of yuenling to your face.
a rendition by our gracious hostess of "one" closed the night as i kicked her out of my bed.


thank you very much, mr. roboto.