One less clown in Boston

Let's get this straight.  I have pretty awesome friends.  You know the type of friends, who make you more hyper?  More crazy?  (wait, is that possible for me?  errrr...yes.  It is)  More... well anything in this case?

Well, my beloved brother-from-another-mother and Juliekins make me feel as such.

Recently I went to Boston, not only to DUH visit Boston, but to also visit them.  There were many sights to see and things to do, but I insisted on going to this Italian restaurant that about 6 people, who don't know each other, referred to me.  This place was called Giacomo's.  Legit place for realses.  We had the best butternut squash ravioli.  Some homemade fusili.  Some free garlic bread that was the bees-knees.  Literally this place was so good, that you have to wait outside in line for dinner starting as early as 4pm.  No reservations type of place, if you catch my drift.

Anywho dinner was so delicious and I was just feeling so happy to be away, with friends, eating amazing food, and seeing the world.

Then, oh yeah, it's time for my "Slims-is-crazy" moment (which is probably every 3 minutes) and things just tend to come out of my mouth unfiltered.  Sometimes I don't realize how whackadoo I sound, until a dear friend is standing next to me and says "what did you just say?!".  And in this case, Brozef and Juliekins were around to here it.  

We were walking down some cute brick-lined street in Boston, and I saw the saddest sight.  A broken, smushed, colorful-but-broken looking ice cream cone.  The saddest sight in the world I tell you.

See?  Doesn't that make you go "awww" from the heart?  Well, if it doesn't...then it should. 

My inner monologue then becomes my outside-voice and I say, pointing to the sad, smushed twisty cone...

"Sad!  That's sad.  A clown died there."

It was true.

The end.