First Day In Hell Not All It's Cracked Up To Be

Well, the secret is officially out!  Even The New Yorker knows the Chelsea Hotel is the entry point into hell.  We used to get a goth punk or two in here maybe once a month to burn a candle in front of Sid's room. But now they're gonna be lining up down the block.

My first day in Hell is drawing to a close. They don’t really have a sunset here, but the fires seem to dim a bit, and the screaming gets more subdued. Most of the demons are asleep now, their pointy tails curled up around them. They look so innocent, it’s hard to believe that just a few hours ago they were raping and torturing us.

The day started off at a party at the Chelsea Hotel, where some friends were daring me to do something. The next thing I knew, I was in Hell. At first, it seemed like a dream, but then I remembered that five-Martini dreams are usually a lot worse. (MY FIRST DAY IN HELL, by JACK HANDEY) (via CherryRamone)