Here's the thing about our sidewalk. We have a rave tonight, and at these events there is always a gaggle of kids sitting around outside in lingerie they stole from mom, bare asses right on the concrete. It grosses me the hell out -- I want to yell at them, "Don't you know where that sidewalk has been?? Do you want hepatitis? Because this is how you get hepatitis."
Welcome to Fragrant SOMA: our sidewalks are a god damned biohazard. They are a war zone, people.
But tonight! Brand new sidewalk! Nobody has vomited on it yet at all! None of our local crackheads have gifted us with a flowing stream of their prodigious heroin-shits.
I thought about puking on it myself, just to break it in, but I'll leave that to someone else.
Everybody asks, "Did you carve your initials in it?" Pfffff.
When we tag, we tag hard.