The Disney Power Hour aka the Roof Peeing Adventure.


I realized I’ve written posts about a lot of the “worsts”. Worst dates, worser worst dates, terrible birthdays, my asshole cat being a douche, all that jazz. Today I’m going to shake it up and give you a best. Or, if not a best, at least a very, very good.

It was my friend’s 24 on Friday, and we had one of the Best Nights Ever.

Let’s call him Eric Bana.

Eric Bana lives in an apartment in a massage school that used to be a mental hospital. It’s very castle-y looking, with all these crazy spires and towers and whatnot, and it smells like shea butter and eucalyptus.I’d never been there before, so I got pretty lost driving out to this place. It’s out on a hill on a pretty hard-to-find road. It’s totally the coolest apartment I’ve ever been to, is what I’m saying.

I get there and Eric Bana promptly announces that we’re going to do a Disney song power hour with Genny Cream. I’d never done a power hour before, so this was a new and exciting thing for me. It also turns out that I am a disturbingly spot on jukebox for Disney lyrics. Eric Bana and I absolutely sang around to almost every song. It was pretty beautiful. The gang had a very touching moment to “I Will Show You the World”.

So 60 shots of Genny later (61 because I did I double shot to The Aristocats because that movie is my JAM) someone decides that we needed to go up to the roof. Elaboration- the boys wanted to pee off of the roof, because they were drunk and boys are gross and have a weird desire to pee on everything. So we go up this crazy spiral staircase thing with all these creepy little empty side rooms that were once used for mental hospital purposes and I’m starting to feel like I’m on Ghost Adventures or some shit. Eric Bana’s good friend and roommate Ryan Gosling is leading this tour and he keeps pointing out the window and telling me about parts of the building he has climbed up and peed on, like he’s an OCD squirrel with the bladder of a hyperactive French Bulldog.

Eventually we get to the top of the building and go out on the highest tower, where there’s a plane landing light and all sorts of cool weather gadgets, and we are easily 6 stories up, and Ryan Gosling climbs out onto this skinny little ledge outside the barrier and has a wee, and all the boys agree this this is an optimal peeing spot, because, I reiterate, boys are gross.

Then we went back downstairs and Eric Bana and I had a fake lightsaber fight and we all went downtown and spoke in really badly affected British accents for like an hour and drank Jameo-ginger and everything was wonderful forever.

Tada.

Of course the next morning I was terribly hungover and The Cat decided to creep under my bed and meow really loudly for an HOUR while power farting, and I really just wanted to be miserable and hide under the covers but the room smelled like a dung beetle’s family reunion.

I hate that cat.

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