bklog: The Immoral House
for those of you not from nashville, or for those who can identify with being an expat, there is a place that borders hell called the Laurel House in the Gulch of Nashville. Heretofore it shall be referred to as Immoral House.
in it’s inception it was meant to be a place for “young professionals” to garner their resources and live in an urban environment..did we mention it’s rent controlled? these “young professionals” are supposed to be able to focus on expanding their careers while actively engaged in “all the rage.”
what it really is, however, is a building full of young people who make far more money than they ever will admit to on paper for fear of facing criminal charges including, but not limited to: drug dealing, money laundering, larceny and soul selling.
essentially what you have are coked out “young profssionals” living in a pseudo-dorm environment waiting for their next single to get them a record deal or even just for their noses to stop bleeding long enough so that they can take the brunch order of the latest music row douchebag in a restaurant job which provides them the social circle to move in a direction that will only get them right back where they started. capital 360 degree ville: population: you.
where do kate and cannon come into play in this saga of sophmoric existence? well, we’ll tell you.
a few months ago cannon was home for a court appeareance for an assault charge on a bouncer at a well known “ultra lounge”. after having a joyful bar experience around town with some members of the up and coming band The Minor Kings, kate, although pissed for paying for cover charges for former hookups and their latest flavour, returned to the Laurel House to crash for the night.
the highly anticipated crash didn’t end up happening very quickly, however, as EarlyTimes consumption from the bottle started being coupled with stops to TacoBell.
walking down the hallway to our friends Laurel House apartment, the four in our crew heard the farmiliar beat of a saturday evening soirée emancipating from a neighbor’s door. Jovially, we knocked and were greeted by hugs and high fives.
as we continued down the hall to our destination, minding our our enchilada-toting business, we were shocked to find a door fly open in front of us further down the hall. apparently fort campbell just got their paychecks and a coke-eyed misanthrope of an oscar the grouch stepped into the hallway and started swinging at our taco bell sack and mouthing obscenities.
not one, but three of the truncheons, gold chains and ed hardy’s 2004 panama city beach outlet edition looking hoodies a blazin’, started slapping dick at our musician friends’ cherub faces.
in typical kate and cannon fashion, kate protected the EarlyTimes and chalupas and encouraged cannon not to kill any of the my-daddy’s-million-dollar-bank-account-allows-me-to-live-here-and-deny-that-i-make-more-than-20,000/year gangstas.
kate kept drinking, cannon resisted his primal urges to maim and our rock star friends proceeded to mockingly offer blowjobs to any of the closet gay participants of the argument, (should they decide to forgo the front of being manly) later that night.
the night ended with cannon passed out on his face, gently being rubbed up against by the rocking of kates and “said rock star friends” coital nocturnal activities (as they occupied the same bed).
after all, sharing is caring.
love,
kate and cannon