I’ve been hesitant about going on any long-distant trips with anyone with fear of getting angry and making things awkward for the remainder. This weekend was a reminder of how much I enjoy being out with the people I care about.

We carpooled down to San Antonio for Fiesta on a single tank of gas, ham and cheese sandwiches, and zero pitstops (if you had to pee, you had to hold it). My aunt is a crazy driver. She turned a 3 hour trip into 2 hours going between 85-90mph. I’m proud of her for not getting stopped by a cop.

There were lots of lesbians, and it made my cousin drool. It was kinda funny. I pumped her full of beer and watched her try to dance with them to some cheesy Tejano music. Anyone who knows my cousin knows she doesn’t dance, so it was quite a sight.

At another stage, there was a 60s cover band, and the crowd was insane. Texas really does know how to party. There was an old, Mexican Elvis in a bright gold suit dancing with some trashy grandma chola whose breasts were about to pop out of her dress.

I especially enjoyed how the suit was two sizes too big, and there was a teardrop tattooed on his face.

Wilson threw up last night. I panicked. He must have been hungover as well.

Today, I needed my girlfriend, and she delivered. Thank you, girlfriend.

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