HALLOWEEN AFTERPARTY 10-31-04

The afterparty was in Brooklyn at Moe's, by the Atlantic station. We got out and went into a little bodega to get some water. JEN wanted to use the ATM in the back corner of the shop, but made me use it because she heard a mouse. I went back there and got the cash out for her, and yes, there was a mouse back there doing his thing.

We got to the party at Moes. Guess what, we were the only ones in costume! Well, there were like 3 others that bothered to dress up in a bar of at least 100 people.

By this time BRETT was freaking out, because he felt really out of place. People were all dressed nice, with leather jackets, etc.. And he looks like a retarded midget with a giant head.

We were hoping to find RAN-D there but he was nowhere to be seen. We asked a few people, having heard rumors of a second afterparty. While Jen was in the process of asking some girl in a Greek toga the whole train party came in en masse.

Apparently, Ran-D did get on the right train and the party had gone to the last stop in Brooklyn, they then all hopped on a train coming back and got off at Atlantic and managed to arrive here after us even though we waited 45 minutes on the platform.

He sat down and had a drink with us. By this time my nose had kicked in to full faucet mode. I was really starting to get sick, and this sticky make-up wasn't making it any better.

Long story short, we took off for home shortly after. When I got back I went to sleep and woke up sick as a dog. Up until this Tuesday I've been pretty incapacitated with runny nose and congested head. I've had enough cold ease and vitamin C to asphyxiate a small porpoise. And I've watched far to much TV.

Just another day in the life of an Art Juggernaut.

-Cojo

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Artsucks.com tracks the wild, weird, and sometimes confusing life and mind of Cojo, Art Juggernaut (BIO) (PORTFOLIO), an artistic zeitgeist trudging the streets of Manhattan, gnawing on the big rotten apple for all it's worth, and getting drunk on the cider...Celebrity encounters, industry parties, the ins and outs of the art world, paparazzi, models, and deranged homeless people bathing in their own urine, no topic is safe, and the unusual is commonplace.

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