Plastic, Not Fantastic

For about two years I lived in a small apartment in a random area in Milan with only old people and horses and it was so far away from my school and job(s) that it basically took me all day to get anywhere so I usually slept at other people's houses and spent all my money on taxis-but I stayed at that apartment for as long as I could because it was walking distance from Plastic. (My American Readers [Mom] don't understand this but my GaySalvadorians did). 

Close to a Chinese bar, with toilets made of drugs and drinks that send people to hospitals, Plastic was the one place I could rely on to get me Snooki'd and serve as a black hole for all my belongings. Also I usually Got Lucky there-check out that fresh hickey on my neck: 

Plastic even taught me about Fashion.

So what's all this about? :

I won't get into details because it's Thanksgiving and I need to hurry up and get started on my pumpkin fries and fried turkey face and taco pizza cheeseballs but I will say this: What's the point of going to a concert if you're just gonna stand there I mean then you may as well just sit in front of a computer and watch youtube videos because at least that way you won't get in the way of the ~Mermaid Girl~ 

trying to dance on stage 

and kiss the the cattivi bodyguards who just kicked her out for the third time 

and maybe then you won't get in the way of her yelling at that girl who keeps punching her in the face and calling her a puttana 

and maybe then you won't get your foot accidentally stepped on by her Kate Moss For Topshop By Marcelo Burlon Heels.