It all started on a night in September. A small group of us had gathered to meet him, but our inspiration and our guiding light, our one and only fearless leader, was, unfortunately, late. We attempted to pass the time with conversation but were forced to seek alternate forms of entertainment. To that end we watched a documentary titled "Pimps Up, Hos Down" which promised to teach us about the premiere social event for the seedy underworld. When Ryan finally arrived upon the scene, we turned our rapt attention to him, but couldn't help wondering just what it was like to
attend the Playa's Ball.
That's when I first met Ryan. Soon he'd hooked me into hanging posters and promoting coffeehouses by word of mouth and double entendres that would have left a seventh grader rolling on the floor. I won't say it's easy to know him, because it's not. At times I too have grown tired of putting up with the strange costumes, the weird sleeping habits, the arguments in parking lots, the obsession with gothic turnstiles. But the payoff is worth it.
After all, if you don't have
Ryan, all you have is pimps and hos.