Hos everywhere, as far as the eye could see

I have come to the conclusion that to hang out at Riverwalk, you:

*have to be or look like a ho-bag
*have to be or want to be a yuppie
*have to travel in weird packs
*have to be riding a skateboard, rollerblades or a bike with brakes that squeak loudly enough to break the sound barrier
*have to be auditioning for Celebrity Circus by doing trapeze acts above the crappy Arkansas River
*have to be a man in an ill-fitting shirt who looks like Peter from Family Guy
*have to be ordering massive amounts of food and drink at highly inflated prices
*have to be comfortable in pushy crowds
*have to be willing to wait up to 2 hours for food
and/or
*have to be willing to deal with weird people who will crawl up your colon and get all in your business.

I'm talkin' I saw chicks that were hos to the 10th power. One set of them was wearing tube tops with booty shorts and cowboy boots. Others had on strapless dresses with saggy boobies flopping about unharnessed. Others had broke-ass tattoos hanging out of bad spandex shirts. Still others had on bad hooker boots and flashing rainbow jewelry. (Not kidding.) Every restaurant was covered the fuck up. So my friend and I went in this weird sub shop which was not a sub shop but was instead a mish-mash of other foods. Ok, fine, whatever. This cracked out woman who is in front of us orders 5,000 sandwiches and then WALKS OUT of the store. A small child is working the front desk taking the orders and running the register. Not very wise. The child and an older man flag the woman down and ask her to come back in and pay for her food, which takes forever. We decided to walk out and go elsewhere. The whole scene just weirded us out. We ultimately decided to leave Riverwalk, go eat at Outback and come back to hear my friend playin' his music. That was the smartest thing we did. I laid in some salmon and whiskeys-and-waters and felt like the world was my oyster. Before we left, a man kept lurking around the bench we were sitting on, trying to offer me random chips and salsa. I declined. Luckily, he was gone by the time we came back. Although we did see this one dude who was hiiiiigh as a kite. You could look at his face and tell he was not even remotely on this planet mentally.

Yawn. Sleep is coming on soon.

Nevertheless, even with the initial setbacks, it was a great time. I guess I would say that if you are going to wander down there on a Saturday night, be prepared for shitloads of people. SHITLOADS of people.

I think it's funny on The Saint that Roger Moore can be fresh from a fistfight or getting shot at and yet he always makes it a priority to smooth out his hair if it gets mussed. I think it's cute. Reminds me of the time when I vomited-- projectile vomited-- red wine all over 12th Street and through it all, I managed to keep it out of my hair and the sunglasses propped up on my head were still in place when I was finished. I looked up and coolly replied, "*This* is how you rock couture."