The other Saturday afternoon I was coming through the foyer in my apartment building and there was a (black) postman putting mail in the boxes.
He asked me how I was, and I said great, since I had been out till late the night before and had just gotten up like an hour or two before.
"That's nice," he was like. "Sometimes you need that."
Then he said that he would love to go out and party, it had been 3 or 4 months, but he was saving money for his daughter's wedding.
"But if you go to the right places," I was like, "You can drink cheap and get fucked up for less than $20."
"Hell," he was like, "I'd take that!"
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