Oh my wordy, what a dirty thirty

I write these words a year delayed
And yet I still feel dirty
It feels like only yesterday
That Bridge and Soph turned thirty

But let's not rush the tale, my friends!
Let's start at the beginning
With Soph and Bridge on St. Patrick's day
Sipping Bud and grinning

Frolics in the Brooklyn snow

For week 3 of our New York stay
We stayed near Phlippy's pad
In hipster dipster Brooklyn, bro
The land of scarves and plaid

There the heavens did arrange
A frosty, snowy treat
Worry not, we came prepared
With aptly covered feet

Jandro's stolen Philly hat

And shink-wrap shoes are where its at

Thus we braved the frigid cold
And frolicked through abandoned streets
Off in quest of chronic beer
Whilst blasting thick 'n chodey beats

DAMN you all look sleek in black

Come now, give that thang a smack!

Goodness me what beer we found!
Verily my pants I creamed
Singlecut, another round!
Brooklyn: you are thus redeemed

The dirtiness of thirtyness

Ah, good friends, week 4 is here
It's time to tell the sordid tale
Of Soph and Bridgette's dirty thirty
So much win! And so much fail!

First, of course, one must be clothed
As best befits a birthday bash
It's crucial that you nail the look
Of douched-out brolo Jersey trash

What about this jean thing? No...
Holy shit. You nailed it, bro

The crew convened at Bridgette's pad
Where custom shirts were handed out
Oh DAMN we all look fleek AF
It's picture time, without a doubt!

Oh my god girls, SUPER CUTE!
Kyle, you are SUCH a hoot

Hop on in that limo folks!
Crack 'dem danky beers!
Pop 'dem champs and raise your glass!
Here's to 30! CHEERS!!!

NOW YOU GOTTA CHUG IT, BRO!
(Our limo driver loved us so)

And thus we hit the road, my friend
Towards Atlantic City
And maybe one (or two) of the crew
(Or three) got slightly shitty

Pee-time pitstop doth commence!
How about this drive-through fence?

Oh hey there Harrah's, guess who's here!?
This crew's been rising steady
And now we're feelin' DIRTY y'all
I do hope that you're ready

Struttin' in and oozin' style
Envy of the rank and file

Fourteen million hours later
The girls are finally prepped
The crew was looking so damn good
Atlantic City wept

Damn girl, rock that sequin dress!
Damn bro, nailed that douchiness!

Cue a rightous room party
Cue the boistrous beat
Cue the dancing, cup in hand
And tap them high-heeled feet

Dance up on that birthday lap!
Give that birthday tush a tap!

What's that you say? THE CLUB DOTH CALL?
Whatever shall we do?
Stand in line for hours? YES!
Then make our grand debut

Memories might be getting hazy...
Though they're still being formed (which is kinda crazy)

We stormed in like Katrina
Chaos reigned supreme
"Birthday girl! Take this shot!"
Became the evening's theme

Tequila, oh you wicked potion
Spawning such a range of emotion

Soph stood strong for amazingly long
But all good must come to an end
And soon our Soph could stand no more
(She was tired, let's pretend)

While Slav and Saac were helping Soph
Make her way off to bed
Kyle and Chu put their scheming hats on
And set their sights overhead

Stand here with me in this cage
Shall we up the level rage?

"See that dome?" "I see it, bro"
"You see that very top?"
"My God! I do! Why stay down here!?"
"Indeed! Let's surely swap!"

And so the bros did thus ascend
By trashcan and by rope
Up Harrah's epic dance club dome
And verily: t'was dope

Crowds below did sway and dance
While Chu above did cream his pants

Soon the bros were safely back
On firm and solid ground
Epic win! Escaped unscathed!
*High fives all around*

"NOICE!" you're thinking, mouth agape
"... though how'd you get that security tape?"

Twenty minutes passed on by
Celebrated thus
When two huge dudes in suits appeared
"Please sirs, come with us"

"Whatever did the princess do?"
"He's Mexican, let's boot him too."

And thusly did our crafty climbers
Get booted from Harrah's hotel
And since the room was in Kyle's name
Phil 'n Jandro were booted as well

With nowhere to sleep and a far ways from home
Feeling grumpy and tired and shitty
They took an Uber at 3AM
Aaaaaall the way back to the City

Though out the doors they were gently eased
Phil, I assure you, was none too pleased

And thusly ends our epic tale
Of limos and sequins and dance
Of domes and lifetime Harrah's bans
Of creaming (and shitting) one's pants

So next time Soph and Bridge decide
To once again turn thirty
Consider yourself fairly warned:
It's going to get dirty