Hey ya bunch of bitches,
We’re Phoenix and Cherry, queen and queen respectively. We met in the summer of 2018 on a dirty basement dance floor in Downtown San Diego. What were we doing there? Who were we before we met? It doesn’t matter, friends. The point is, we’re here now and we’re not going anywhere.
We will say it was a good thing we met when we did because one of us had just been evicted for luring stray cats into a parking deck with Sonic tater tots—the next day we decided to get a place together. We sealed the deal with a spit pact and a fifth of Pepe Lopez. Thus began the great Blackout & Mild fog of 2018.
We spent our weekends traveling the world from the comfort of our couch, courtesy of Netflix’s Moving Art and green-apple flavored edible gummies. Our favorite place to visit was Niagara Falls because it reminded us of the free flowing current of a beer bong filled with Michelob Ultra Lite. After three weeks of collective unemployment, we got the idea to go into business together.
The logical solution to our financial dilemma and marijuana infatuation was to start a company selling pre-rolled blunts. So we began Grape Squirt, and spent our days licking cigar wraps over arousing games of Fuck, Marry, Kill. The longest debate we ever got in was between The Genie from Aladdin, Mr. Rogers and Dumbledore.
One night in the midst of a three-day long bender, we ran into two girls in the bathroom of a place we’ll call the Booty Basement. They zipped us back into our jumpsuits, tipped the attendant, and sparked a divine intervention by ordering us a Lyft XL to Wendy’s. We found God somewhere between the prepackaged honey mustard and BBQ sauce, sealing in a four-way friendship straight out of a Disney movie.
The next morning we awoke to find half of our clients pissed off, and we realized Grape Squirt was never going to get off the ground with our existing habits. Despite only trying to run a business for two weeks, we knew it was time to throw in the towel. Responding to texts between the hours of noon and eight was just too hard for us to handle. We found ourselves at a crossroads: choosing between another eviction or selling our souls to the daily grind.
That’s where Lexie and Belle stepped in yet again by offering us both part time writing gigs here on Fireball Loft. After careful salary negotiations, we finally allowed them to bring us on to the team. So here we are, ready to bring the thunder and enlighten you all with the true trials of twenty-somethings.
If you find yourself searching for guidance, you can read our insights on Fireball Loft. Or, if you’re feeling lucky, hit the crosswalk button on Thirtieth and El Cajon and you might just find us coming towards ya Jack-and-Rose style on a Bird Scooter, double fisting döner kebabs and screaming the words to Phantom of the Opera’s Prima Donna.
What’s up? The name’s Phoenix, last name is Unimportant. If you’re ever waiting outside a club and you can’t get in, just say my name and I’ll help you out. I’m always on the list. I feel most at home on the open road with my windows down, purple hair blowing in the wind and blue lights swirling in the rear view mirror. The first time I drove a car I was seven and I knew as long as I had a set of wheels things would be okay. I’m originally from the smallest-small town you can imagine just south of Birmingham, Alabama. I drove out to California after a brief stint working rodeos in Kansas City, and I already know I won’t stay forever. I’m a self declared wanderer, I choose whiskey over wine, and I could live off spicy pickles and brisket if I had to… well it’s possible I already do. When I’m not galavanting around town with Cherry, you can find me rollerblading on the boardwalk or dancing on tables downtown. My favorite song to get down to is the early 2000’s hit Shake by the Ying Yang twins. I’ll know I’ve finally made it when I want to buy some land somewhere, but until then I’ll probably keep driving. The best piece of advice I’ve ever gotten was from my grandma when she said to never let your husband see you completely naked. I’m not married, but I haven’t changed my socks in years just in case.
It’s ya girl Cherry, comin’ atchu from the WiFi haven of my favorite 7-Eleven. If I’m not double fisting a Mountain Dew and a Red Bull, call 9-1-1. I grew up with four older brothers, so I guess you could say I know how to handle myself. My claim to fame is winning my local tri-state area loogie hocking contest when I was just 14 years old, breaking the all time distance record. My recent hobbies include mastering the art of taking a shot with no hands, expanding my collection of bumper stickers and watching South Park alone. I prefer my air salty and my friends saltier. I love nothing more than a good shit-talking session on a warm San Diego night. If you need me, call Phoenix. My phone screen is so shattered I get cut just looking at it. The only thing I know how to take care of is myself. My last meal would be a peanut butter and bologna sandwich, sour cream cheddar chips on the side and a banana split with extra chocolate syrup for dessert. My drink of choice is a pickle-back shot and my spirit animal is a Squirtle. People often tell me I’m rude, but my mama always said what’s the point goin’ through life if you can’t have what you want. From that day on I’ve had sticky fingers, and not just from the Dew. I never say please because Cherry is always on top.
Hasta la vista, babies,
P.S. If you’re new here and want to meet the founders of Fireball Loft, check out this page.