Before we get started on tihs one, I just need to let you all know that I am still working on the post for the last week and a half or so, but this is so much more important. Not to mention freaky as hell. But I really will get you all updated on everything.
OK, so I have to admit, I haven't been entirely honest with everyone. I have been sleeping with Jenny. Yes, I know you are all disappointed in me, but that is SO not the point of this post, I just wanted you all to know. Also, it explains why I know what I now know. Apparently, my ex-wife is now re-married. I know this because Jenny's sister's new room mate is friends with my ex-wife. Why does this world have to be this small? Some days I really hate my life. Honestly though, the best thing is that I don't think that Jenny's sister actually knows about the whole abortion thing. On the other hand, I could be wrong. Oh, and the only person that Jenny actually hates is my ex-wife. All because that bitch fucked me up. Whatever, I think I'll go drink off my claustrophobia. Really, when did my life get so small?
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
I Blame Karen
As usual, I'm not dead. Disorganized, drunk, crazed, high, tired, busy, disinterested, and down right useless for most things, but not dead. Got a lot to catch everyone up on, but I think most of you already know what I have been up to. We'll start with Roslyn Wreck '08.
For those who don't know, Karen got us a two bedroom suite at the Lodge at Suncadia, which was fuckin awesome, even though the balcony sucked. So did the view from the bedroom windows. Seriously, all I could see was a roof. But the room itself was pretty sweet. Got to hit The Brick, and kinda Marco's on Friday night, and then Saturday we went to Diamondbacks for Slideshow which was pretty awesome. Friday night I think we drank margaritas, some of them on Harper's bill (he had $6 in his bank account apparently). Oh, and some Jager shots too. Karen had to buy the first round, plus an extra shot for herself because she lost the bet on how muh change I had in my change jar. Apparently a standard size mason jar can hold at least fifty five dollars in change, and Karen bet that it only had 21. Heck, even I only guessed 32, but that $50 paid for a fair number of drinks that weekend. The hangover the next day was totally worth it, since we ended up just sitting in the room most of the day watching football, and eating the frozen pizza we had for breakfast. We tried going to the beach, but only stayed for one beer. Saturday night was pretty killer since Slideshow was playing, and therefore DB's was packed. Luckily since I stuck to beer, the hangover wasn't all that bad. So let me tell you about the things that were bad.
I apparently had no game that weekend. Well, that's not true, I had plenty of game, like always, but I kept running into problems. The biggest problem was that I refuse to sleep with chicks that have boyfriends, fiances, husbands, or any other kind of significant other. I know that's not a problem for most of the girls around there, since they've never even heard the word monogamy, but I don't do that anymore (or at least I try not to). One of the other problems I had was that everyone seemed to think Karen was my girlfriend. And I do mean everyone. Even Hannah made a comment about it. Speaking of Hanah, she cockblocked me too, but I think I should probably thank her for that since I was pretty drunk at the time, and Hanah had a much better idea of what I was getting myself into than I did, thankfully.
Ending this post now since it has been about two and a half weeks since we left there, and that's an ubsurd amount of lateness, even for me. Besides, my memory of that weekend is seriously corrupt now anyways due to the amount of time that has passed.
For those who don't know, Karen got us a two bedroom suite at the Lodge at Suncadia, which was fuckin awesome, even though the balcony sucked. So did the view from the bedroom windows. Seriously, all I could see was a roof. But the room itself was pretty sweet. Got to hit The Brick, and kinda Marco's on Friday night, and then Saturday we went to Diamondbacks for Slideshow which was pretty awesome. Friday night I think we drank margaritas, some of them on Harper's bill (he had $6 in his bank account apparently). Oh, and some Jager shots too. Karen had to buy the first round, plus an extra shot for herself because she lost the bet on how muh change I had in my change jar. Apparently a standard size mason jar can hold at least fifty five dollars in change, and Karen bet that it only had 21. Heck, even I only guessed 32, but that $50 paid for a fair number of drinks that weekend. The hangover the next day was totally worth it, since we ended up just sitting in the room most of the day watching football, and eating the frozen pizza we had for breakfast. We tried going to the beach, but only stayed for one beer. Saturday night was pretty killer since Slideshow was playing, and therefore DB's was packed. Luckily since I stuck to beer, the hangover wasn't all that bad. So let me tell you about the things that were bad.
I apparently had no game that weekend. Well, that's not true, I had plenty of game, like always, but I kept running into problems. The biggest problem was that I refuse to sleep with chicks that have boyfriends, fiances, husbands, or any other kind of significant other. I know that's not a problem for most of the girls around there, since they've never even heard the word monogamy, but I don't do that anymore (or at least I try not to). One of the other problems I had was that everyone seemed to think Karen was my girlfriend. And I do mean everyone. Even Hannah made a comment about it. Speaking of Hanah, she cockblocked me too, but I think I should probably thank her for that since I was pretty drunk at the time, and Hanah had a much better idea of what I was getting myself into than I did, thankfully.
Ending this post now since it has been about two and a half weeks since we left there, and that's an ubsurd amount of lateness, even for me. Besides, my memory of that weekend is seriously corrupt now anyways due to the amount of time that has passed.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Death of Innocence
So lately I have been thinking a lot more about things than I normally do. Usually I just let the world slide on by, barely give it a passing notice, but lately I actually take the time to stop and think. In retrospect, I'm pretty sure this is a stupid fucking mistake, and I should abandon it quickly. As I'm sure you have all noticed there have been less drunken debauchery stories lately, and more things I actually think about. I also have a couple of half written posts that are waiting for me to finish them sitting in the editing page for this site which aren't stories. I know it's not what people really expect from me, or, more precisely, want from me, but I like to share my thoughts, so deal. I can't be drunk all the time, I'm broke. This will be one of those mixed posts; part drunken revelry, part politics, part rant, part insightful commentary on things most people never want to think about, if they even noticed.
Since there is only one true dictionary in this day and age, I decided to use it to look up a definition of innocence for this post. Number 2 is the most correct I believe: virginal, without blemish, without blame, not guilty, pure, clean, untainted, naive. I think that about covers it. I'd love to go into what I really think about the "virginal" part of that, but I think most everyone has heard my statements about that. The fact of the matter is that nowhere in that definition can you find one word that manages to describe any of my friends, my co-workers, my bar people, or anyone I know. Well, maybe naive, but only comparatively. I think this should depress me, but in all honesty it doesn't? Why? Because anyone who was the definition innocence would most likely piss me off if they weren't a child. Better yet, I think almost everyone in our society has the same feeling. We all hate people who are innocent because they are useless. They don't have the understanding to survive in what we think of as "our world". They don't get it, so they get hurt, and in getting hurt that innocence shatters like broken glass, and all those shards of glass shoot off cutting everyone around them, causing us pain. We can see it coming. We know what's going to happen to them because it happened to us. People fear for their children because they don't want to see innocence broken; they don't want to see the pain, or feel their own pain as they remember all the times when their innocence broke.
And the breaking of it isn't a one time thing. Innocence encompasses everything, every facet of life. The first time someone sticks their hand in a fire and gets burned, they lose a piece. The first time someone they know dies, a piece dies. Their first job costs them a piece. The first time someone yells at them, a piece breaks off. A kiss? Another piece. The first time they make love, another piece gone. The first time they fuck, one more lost. Their first love and subsequent broken heart; a shattering. You spend your whole life losing piece after piece of what began as a perfect bubble protecting you from reality. But it doesn't protect you, it blinds you to all of this wonderful, horrible existence. The act of being born is like popping open the lid of Pandora's box.
And here's the kicker about it: innocence attracts. We all want what we can't have, and innocence lost can NEVER be regained. Some of us want to protect it, some want to possess it, some want to destroy it. For a lot of us the illusion of innocence is enough. Supposedly the ultimate woman for most men looks like a lady, acts like a virgin, fucks like a whore. Or, for example, the ever desired schoolgirls, nurses, teachers, librarians, even nuns. Or for the truly sick and fucked in the head, the choir boy.
The other day I had a choice to make between women. I could take the "tramp" in her fishnets, hooker boots, black skirt, over exposed cleavage, and up in my crotch attitude. I could take the "wholesome" girl with her jeans, sneakers, T-shirt, and good conversation. The popular, bitchy chick; the nerdy girl; the rocker; the dyke; the bull dyke; the rave girl; whatever girl you can imagine, I could find that night, in that bar. Or I could take the shy little virgin girl, in the bar for the first time, too nervous to speak up, to scared to relax, to naive to notice she was the lone sheep in a room full of wolves. So many choices, so many options. With enough experience all you need do is study them for a moment and you'll know what they are in bed. It's in the eyes, it's in the way they move, it's in the way they Dance. Are they a dirty little whore in bed? Did they watch so much porn that it has become indelibly burned into their brain as the way sex is supposed to be? Are they so repressed that they freeze in bed? Do they let loose their mind, their inhibitions and free the beast inside, animalistic in their need for sensation and feeling? Will they let loose a frenzy that burns out at the end of the first orgasm? Is she one that will start cold, waiting for the spark to start and set the fire raging out of control in a firestorm of lust and passion? Which one will satisfy you tonight? Who will fulfil that aching need in your loins this night? Who can truly quench that blazing Need that drives you, again and again?
Even virgins will show it, if you know what to look for, the right questions to ask. And sometimes, just sometimes, what you really need is the cool waters of a woman to whom the entire act of sex needs to be the physical act of love instead. A woman, a girl, an innocent, who you have to touch so tenderly, gently. Someone whose innocence you are taking, but one that you want to break as softly as possible. Show her the joy, the passion, the thrill to be had, there on the other side. Awaken the Need in her slowly. Revel in the sheer pleasure of the act; take the time to do it right. And when it's done, and you see that glow of satisfaction flowing from her entire body, know that you did well, and you will reap the benefits in the days and weeks to come. Teach her to be every kind of lover you could ever want. And then let her loose on the world. My world.
What choice did I make that night? Most men would love to have a virgin, but they are scared of them. Me? I pop virgins like bubble wrap.
Since there is only one true dictionary in this day and age, I decided to use it to look up a definition of innocence for this post. Number 2 is the most correct I believe: virginal, without blemish, without blame, not guilty, pure, clean, untainted, naive. I think that about covers it. I'd love to go into what I really think about the "virginal" part of that, but I think most everyone has heard my statements about that. The fact of the matter is that nowhere in that definition can you find one word that manages to describe any of my friends, my co-workers, my bar people, or anyone I know. Well, maybe naive, but only comparatively. I think this should depress me, but in all honesty it doesn't? Why? Because anyone who was the definition innocence would most likely piss me off if they weren't a child. Better yet, I think almost everyone in our society has the same feeling. We all hate people who are innocent because they are useless. They don't have the understanding to survive in what we think of as "our world". They don't get it, so they get hurt, and in getting hurt that innocence shatters like broken glass, and all those shards of glass shoot off cutting everyone around them, causing us pain. We can see it coming. We know what's going to happen to them because it happened to us. People fear for their children because they don't want to see innocence broken; they don't want to see the pain, or feel their own pain as they remember all the times when their innocence broke.
And the breaking of it isn't a one time thing. Innocence encompasses everything, every facet of life. The first time someone sticks their hand in a fire and gets burned, they lose a piece. The first time someone they know dies, a piece dies. Their first job costs them a piece. The first time someone yells at them, a piece breaks off. A kiss? Another piece. The first time they make love, another piece gone. The first time they fuck, one more lost. Their first love and subsequent broken heart; a shattering. You spend your whole life losing piece after piece of what began as a perfect bubble protecting you from reality. But it doesn't protect you, it blinds you to all of this wonderful, horrible existence. The act of being born is like popping open the lid of Pandora's box.
And here's the kicker about it: innocence attracts. We all want what we can't have, and innocence lost can NEVER be regained. Some of us want to protect it, some want to possess it, some want to destroy it. For a lot of us the illusion of innocence is enough. Supposedly the ultimate woman for most men looks like a lady, acts like a virgin, fucks like a whore. Or, for example, the ever desired schoolgirls, nurses, teachers, librarians, even nuns. Or for the truly sick and fucked in the head, the choir boy.
The other day I had a choice to make between women. I could take the "tramp" in her fishnets, hooker boots, black skirt, over exposed cleavage, and up in my crotch attitude. I could take the "wholesome" girl with her jeans, sneakers, T-shirt, and good conversation. The popular, bitchy chick; the nerdy girl; the rocker; the dyke; the bull dyke; the rave girl; whatever girl you can imagine, I could find that night, in that bar. Or I could take the shy little virgin girl, in the bar for the first time, too nervous to speak up, to scared to relax, to naive to notice she was the lone sheep in a room full of wolves. So many choices, so many options. With enough experience all you need do is study them for a moment and you'll know what they are in bed. It's in the eyes, it's in the way they move, it's in the way they Dance. Are they a dirty little whore in bed? Did they watch so much porn that it has become indelibly burned into their brain as the way sex is supposed to be? Are they so repressed that they freeze in bed? Do they let loose their mind, their inhibitions and free the beast inside, animalistic in their need for sensation and feeling? Will they let loose a frenzy that burns out at the end of the first orgasm? Is she one that will start cold, waiting for the spark to start and set the fire raging out of control in a firestorm of lust and passion? Which one will satisfy you tonight? Who will fulfil that aching need in your loins this night? Who can truly quench that blazing Need that drives you, again and again?
Even virgins will show it, if you know what to look for, the right questions to ask. And sometimes, just sometimes, what you really need is the cool waters of a woman to whom the entire act of sex needs to be the physical act of love instead. A woman, a girl, an innocent, who you have to touch so tenderly, gently. Someone whose innocence you are taking, but one that you want to break as softly as possible. Show her the joy, the passion, the thrill to be had, there on the other side. Awaken the Need in her slowly. Revel in the sheer pleasure of the act; take the time to do it right. And when it's done, and you see that glow of satisfaction flowing from her entire body, know that you did well, and you will reap the benefits in the days and weeks to come. Teach her to be every kind of lover you could ever want. And then let her loose on the world. My world.
What choice did I make that night? Most men would love to have a virgin, but they are scared of them. Me? I pop virgins like bubble wrap.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
ICYB
So people who have known Karen for a while know that she has a made a long standing habit of saying one particular thing, but lately, even though we hang out a lot, I never hear it much anymore. This weekend I got to hear it again, which always sends drunks into fits of giggling hilarity. In comparison to the other night, where I got so drunk I don't remember half the night, and had to keep going back over the next two days to ask my bartenders if I had paid my tab, I was really quite sober. Karen wasn't, but thats normal for her hanging out with me, and Hannah wasn't really all that bad, even though it was her birthday, and she wanted to be. Hell, Hannah even kept her clothes on for once.
We had two really amusing highlights. One was Karen finally yelling, "I'll Cut You, Bitch!" Always good for a laugh, or the rolling giggles. The other was trying to explain to everyone in Nabob why I was wakling around with a pair of pants slung over my shoulder. The truth wasn't really all that interesting, so instead I told them they were the pants from some hot bitch who had stolen them from my house after sleeping over, and being to drunk to want to sleep in her own clothes, and then forgetting to change when she left because she was still drunk. OK, so that actually is the truth, but I neglected to point out that it was Hannah, and that, like always, we didn't have sex (thank God). Damn, how scary of a thought would that be.
Either way, it was a good time, like always. Not as amussing in the story department since I wasn't a total drunk ass, but hey, even I can't be a drunk ass everyday.
We had two really amusing highlights. One was Karen finally yelling, "I'll Cut You, Bitch!" Always good for a laugh, or the rolling giggles. The other was trying to explain to everyone in Nabob why I was wakling around with a pair of pants slung over my shoulder. The truth wasn't really all that interesting, so instead I told them they were the pants from some hot bitch who had stolen them from my house after sleeping over, and being to drunk to want to sleep in her own clothes, and then forgetting to change when she left because she was still drunk. OK, so that actually is the truth, but I neglected to point out that it was Hannah, and that, like always, we didn't have sex (thank God). Damn, how scary of a thought would that be.
Either way, it was a good time, like always. Not as amussing in the story department since I wasn't a total drunk ass, but hey, even I can't be a drunk ass everyday.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
The Sky Is Falling!!! Wait... Nevermind. Idiot.
So people are already freaking out about the whole economic colapse thing, but I'm a little confused. Why are you all freaking out? How does it really affect most of you? None of my friends are employed in the financial sector. None of you have large investment profiles. None of you have retirement accounts. So what's the big deal? Worried about another Depression? I got an idea. How about I explain what's actually happening and is going to happen. I'm just as qualified as all those supposed financial experts. I know a lot of really random stuff, about really random things, and, surprisingly, one of those things is the reality of the financial system.
Let's start with telling you what is wrong about what most people think. The most important of these things is that the people who work in the financial sector actually understand how the system works. Newsflash: They don't. In all honesty no one really understands the system. These days the great jockeys of the financial system actually took computer science and chaos theory. Chaos Theory for crying out loud! What does that have to do with finance, money, and investments? Everything. Chaos Theory is a way of studying the way systems change over time with relation to an initial condition(s). What that means is that the people with the best understanding of the way the market actually works don't really have an understanding of what the money really is or who it effects. And of course you basically have to be a genius to understand the mathematics behind it, not to mention the "solutions" that it provides. And guess what? They don't get it either.
So why does any of it really matter to you and I? It doesn't, directly. The market does help determine gas prices, food prices, and even housing costs. But with the market in decline those costs should go down, but don't expect them to; we are capitalists after all, and this is the ultimate in capitalization. But what else happens with the market in decline? Well, with people as scared as they are, they won't be travelling as much because they are worried about needing all the money they have. Most of my good friends work in the hotel industry, as do I, but I'm not worried at all about the decline in travel. The reason is because it's already the slow season, and the only people who travel right now are business people. Do you really expect them to stop? This is how they do their jobs, and we provide their lodging while they do it. As for the luxury hotels, the rich are always rich and they will always spend money, lest they stop being rich and important. So none of us are losing our jobs, nothing will get more expensive, and we didn't lose all our savings and retirement funds, so calm the hell down.
Now here's the kicker. Want to know why our market just plummeted? Because people are fucking stupid. OK, so we have the whole mortgage colapse thing going on, but we saw that coming a little bit ago. The government bail out? We spend more money than that every year in a useless war (get to that at a later date), or on tons of other useless crap. Granted the government doesn't really have crap for money right now, but it's not like that's a new thing. So whats the real reason the market is falling? I wasn't kidding before; people are fucking stupid. That IS the reason. And I don't just mean the rednecks in the south; I mean pretty much everyone.
While, yes, the market is a measure of how strong our economy is, it doesn't mean that the way you think it does. The market is actually a measure of our confidence in our economy, not the economy itself. Let's use a normal stupid person who suddenly has money to invest into the market and does so, meaning he suddenly has a small amount of influence in the market. Now imagine that idiot deciding he wants to pull all his money out of the market because he's scared of a colapse, and doesn't want to lose his money. Say he started with five thousand dollars in the market. Now multiply that one dumbass by fifty million. That's two hundred fifty BILLION dollars, also known as real money on Wall Street. What that really means is a huge drop in the confidence of our economy. But why? Nothing has really changed in what the economy really is. Wheat is still growing across the country, and being sold all over the world. Microsoft still makes software that everyone buys. Cars are still being bought and sold. Our economy is fine, people are just too stupid to realize it.
So open your eyes, your ears, and your brain. Wake the fuck up. And STOP WATCHING THE NEWS!!! Their experts aren't. Their advice is crap. Their constant coverage of absolutely everything that they think we need to know is the cause of the confusion and panic. The news is what labled this as an economic colapse, then the politicians picked it up, added "emergency" to the mix, and the whole thing went to shit. I wish I could say with faith that you'd be fine taking my advice, but honestly the only way my advice would help is if everyone took it. People have a herd mentality; one panics, they all panic. When they panic, the rest of us who don't just get run down. You can't stop it, you have to turn it until it slows down and people start thinking again. So blame the idiots for starting this, and keeping it going, but also realize that the only way to stop something like this if from the front.
Let's start with telling you what is wrong about what most people think. The most important of these things is that the people who work in the financial sector actually understand how the system works. Newsflash: They don't. In all honesty no one really understands the system. These days the great jockeys of the financial system actually took computer science and chaos theory. Chaos Theory for crying out loud! What does that have to do with finance, money, and investments? Everything. Chaos Theory is a way of studying the way systems change over time with relation to an initial condition(s). What that means is that the people with the best understanding of the way the market actually works don't really have an understanding of what the money really is or who it effects. And of course you basically have to be a genius to understand the mathematics behind it, not to mention the "solutions" that it provides. And guess what? They don't get it either.
So why does any of it really matter to you and I? It doesn't, directly. The market does help determine gas prices, food prices, and even housing costs. But with the market in decline those costs should go down, but don't expect them to; we are capitalists after all, and this is the ultimate in capitalization. But what else happens with the market in decline? Well, with people as scared as they are, they won't be travelling as much because they are worried about needing all the money they have. Most of my good friends work in the hotel industry, as do I, but I'm not worried at all about the decline in travel. The reason is because it's already the slow season, and the only people who travel right now are business people. Do you really expect them to stop? This is how they do their jobs, and we provide their lodging while they do it. As for the luxury hotels, the rich are always rich and they will always spend money, lest they stop being rich and important. So none of us are losing our jobs, nothing will get more expensive, and we didn't lose all our savings and retirement funds, so calm the hell down.
Now here's the kicker. Want to know why our market just plummeted? Because people are fucking stupid. OK, so we have the whole mortgage colapse thing going on, but we saw that coming a little bit ago. The government bail out? We spend more money than that every year in a useless war (get to that at a later date), or on tons of other useless crap. Granted the government doesn't really have crap for money right now, but it's not like that's a new thing. So whats the real reason the market is falling? I wasn't kidding before; people are fucking stupid. That IS the reason. And I don't just mean the rednecks in the south; I mean pretty much everyone.
While, yes, the market is a measure of how strong our economy is, it doesn't mean that the way you think it does. The market is actually a measure of our confidence in our economy, not the economy itself. Let's use a normal stupid person who suddenly has money to invest into the market and does so, meaning he suddenly has a small amount of influence in the market. Now imagine that idiot deciding he wants to pull all his money out of the market because he's scared of a colapse, and doesn't want to lose his money. Say he started with five thousand dollars in the market. Now multiply that one dumbass by fifty million. That's two hundred fifty BILLION dollars, also known as real money on Wall Street. What that really means is a huge drop in the confidence of our economy. But why? Nothing has really changed in what the economy really is. Wheat is still growing across the country, and being sold all over the world. Microsoft still makes software that everyone buys. Cars are still being bought and sold. Our economy is fine, people are just too stupid to realize it.
So open your eyes, your ears, and your brain. Wake the fuck up. And STOP WATCHING THE NEWS!!! Their experts aren't. Their advice is crap. Their constant coverage of absolutely everything that they think we need to know is the cause of the confusion and panic. The news is what labled this as an economic colapse, then the politicians picked it up, added "emergency" to the mix, and the whole thing went to shit. I wish I could say with faith that you'd be fine taking my advice, but honestly the only way my advice would help is if everyone took it. People have a herd mentality; one panics, they all panic. When they panic, the rest of us who don't just get run down. You can't stop it, you have to turn it until it slows down and people start thinking again. So blame the idiots for starting this, and keeping it going, but also realize that the only way to stop something like this if from the front.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
2 Hours Late And Still Alive
So, yeah.... Ed really needs to learn to drink less of Karen's drinks. Especially when she's already drunk enough to not need to be ordering them. Hell, I'm not even sure who paid the last tab at Nabob. It's not like this is really a new thing, but honestly, I think it might actually be getting a little absurd. Even last year the only real effect my drinking had on my work was the occasional failing to get up on time, and the frequent drunken night of work and debauchery. OK, nevermind, bad example. But either way, once my drinking starts to affect my work I really need to get a new job. Er, sorry, stop drinking. God.... I'm at work two hours late, still drunk, and hiccuping. This sucks.
Anyways, I basically took Karen on the same tour I took the Alabama people on. We just had more mai tais. Or at least I did. Karen had about 1 and a half. I had 2 and a half because Karen can't drink like a pro anymore. She didn't finish hardly anything last night. Not the maitai, not the vodka soda, not the special water, nothing. What a dismal failure. At least Susan said Hi when we called. And I got drunk. Yay.
As for women to hit on, the best one of the night was taken by a guy who was such a freaky nerd he made a broke Bill Gates look like a stud, but these days I don't poach anymore, no matter how much I want to. And trust me, I REALLY wanted too. The cocktailer there had a naked woman on her shirt, but she was still fun to hit on. Not the best lookin' woman in the bar, but still fairly attractive. Nabob probably would have gone really well if I hadn't miss placed the first woman who really hit on me, and then called a completely different hot chick by the first one's name. That didn't work out obviously. I was really on the ball last night.
I got a date tonight (in theory) that involves probably a little more drinking than I honestly need to be doing today. Especially after last night. But hey, maybe if I manage to get lucky this time Sandra might actually be fun in bed. If nothing else, she'll be drunk and that seemed to help the first time. Here's hoping. On the other hand, she is bringing her friends too, which presents options. Either I sleep with Sandra and it sucks/blows/rocks/bores me, or I sleep with one of her friends, or all of her friends. It's not as far fetched as some of you think. You all keep telling me that women talk about sex a LOT more and a TON more detailed than men, and when the man you were telling all your friends about got you off more than you thought possible, well, they have a tendency to want to find out for themselves. I know you think people (especially women) are decent people who wouldn't do that, but take my word for it: You are SO wrong. So pretty much there is no chance that I won't be sleeping with someone tomorrow, and not just cause I'm horny as hell. It's also because women are kinda slutty when they know a man can get them off, especially when its me. I'm just awesome like that.
Anyways, I basically took Karen on the same tour I took the Alabama people on. We just had more mai tais. Or at least I did. Karen had about 1 and a half. I had 2 and a half because Karen can't drink like a pro anymore. She didn't finish hardly anything last night. Not the maitai, not the vodka soda, not the special water, nothing. What a dismal failure. At least Susan said Hi when we called. And I got drunk. Yay.
As for women to hit on, the best one of the night was taken by a guy who was such a freaky nerd he made a broke Bill Gates look like a stud, but these days I don't poach anymore, no matter how much I want to. And trust me, I REALLY wanted too. The cocktailer there had a naked woman on her shirt, but she was still fun to hit on. Not the best lookin' woman in the bar, but still fairly attractive. Nabob probably would have gone really well if I hadn't miss placed the first woman who really hit on me, and then called a completely different hot chick by the first one's name. That didn't work out obviously. I was really on the ball last night.
I got a date tonight (in theory) that involves probably a little more drinking than I honestly need to be doing today. Especially after last night. But hey, maybe if I manage to get lucky this time Sandra might actually be fun in bed. If nothing else, she'll be drunk and that seemed to help the first time. Here's hoping. On the other hand, she is bringing her friends too, which presents options. Either I sleep with Sandra and it sucks/blows/rocks/bores me, or I sleep with one of her friends, or all of her friends. It's not as far fetched as some of you think. You all keep telling me that women talk about sex a LOT more and a TON more detailed than men, and when the man you were telling all your friends about got you off more than you thought possible, well, they have a tendency to want to find out for themselves. I know you think people (especially women) are decent people who wouldn't do that, but take my word for it: You are SO wrong. So pretty much there is no chance that I won't be sleeping with someone tomorrow, and not just cause I'm horny as hell. It's also because women are kinda slutty when they know a man can get them off, especially when its me. I'm just awesome like that.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Not Quite An Epic Mistake
So, easy stuff first. I guess I need to clear up a couple things. I'm not here to ruin peoples lives, so blithering on about the stupid crap my room mate gets up to is kinda out. He's welcome to do so, but I'm not out to piss people off, or hurt their feelings. That's why people like Sandra and Amy don't have my blog address. God forbid any woman I sleep with ever reads this. Sometime in the past 28 years I apparently either developed a conscious (unlikely, I know), or I simply learned my place (far more likely). In any case, I don't rip people who read this a new one. Anyone who doesn't is, as always, fair game.
As for what I have been up to, it is pretty much more of the same. I got pretty wasted the other night, Monday I believe. Went to Nabob where pretty much everyone decided they needed to buy me shots. Jager, whiskey, and something that I think was half and half. Whatever it was, it tasted horrible and hit like a truck. Hung out at the bar till 3am smoking, drinking, and generally having a good time. Some guy I'd met there before offered me a shot at a new job that actually pays pretty well. If I manage to get off my lazy ass, I might even take it.
So this brings us to Tuesday night, which is where the title of this one comes from. Karen, having been there for part of it, already knows most of the story. The rest of you will probably get upset (especially if your name starts with S), but that's fine. You wouldn't get pissed if you didn't care. Anyways, before you all go completely crazy from hearing the rest of this let's get a couple things straight. I did NOT have sex with her. No we aren't getting back together. Yes you are paranoid. It might have been a terrible decision we made a year ago, but it really was most likely the right one. If you don't know who I'm talking about by now, you don't pay crap for attention.
So on to the story. The bookseller called me while I was skating around town, and since I happened to be near where she was, I decided to swing by and play some pool. Ended up getting a few drinks at the pool hall, then some more at some bar in Pioneer Square, during which time Karen showed up. Since Pioneer Square is full of crazies (so not kidding), we decided to head back to Nabob. I got a poem using my name from some random guy on the street down in P. Square too, as did the girls.
Embracing the light of knowledge in the
Distance of things well done.
Weird, huh? Moving on, Nabob turned out to be not quite the drunkfest it usually is for me, or Karen for that matter, but the bookseller got a fair bit tossed and needed to stay at my place. We ended up spending half the night talking about random shit, including the sordid details of said tragedy from a year ago. It also turns out that her friends are even more extreme in their dislike of us speaking than you all are (except Karen, who doesn't care). They even deleted my number and stuff from her phone, and threaten to go into crazed hysterics if they ever find out we speak, yet alone all the other things that could happen.
There is a point to explaining all this sometimes. Like this time there's actually a moral to an otherwise long, painful, mostly pointless story. Sometimes we really do have to revisit things, if only to make sure we made the right decisions for all involved. At times I forget how much she drank before she knew she was pregnant, and how much that impacted the decision that we made. Either way, I think this time I won't be drinking myself into oblivion. At times in your life you have to go back and face your demons. The spectres that came back with this one weren't nearly as bad as I thought they would be, which is good. I still think if I ever see my ex-wife again I'd rather have a weapon in hand. so maybe we'll let that one slide for a while longer. Not like I'm in a hurry to revisit that rotting cesspool of hate, disgust, and rage. And it's not just her vagina that I don't want to visit again.
As for what I have been up to, it is pretty much more of the same. I got pretty wasted the other night, Monday I believe. Went to Nabob where pretty much everyone decided they needed to buy me shots. Jager, whiskey, and something that I think was half and half. Whatever it was, it tasted horrible and hit like a truck. Hung out at the bar till 3am smoking, drinking, and generally having a good time. Some guy I'd met there before offered me a shot at a new job that actually pays pretty well. If I manage to get off my lazy ass, I might even take it.
So this brings us to Tuesday night, which is where the title of this one comes from. Karen, having been there for part of it, already knows most of the story. The rest of you will probably get upset (especially if your name starts with S), but that's fine. You wouldn't get pissed if you didn't care. Anyways, before you all go completely crazy from hearing the rest of this let's get a couple things straight. I did NOT have sex with her. No we aren't getting back together. Yes you are paranoid. It might have been a terrible decision we made a year ago, but it really was most likely the right one. If you don't know who I'm talking about by now, you don't pay crap for attention.
So on to the story. The bookseller called me while I was skating around town, and since I happened to be near where she was, I decided to swing by and play some pool. Ended up getting a few drinks at the pool hall, then some more at some bar in Pioneer Square, during which time Karen showed up. Since Pioneer Square is full of crazies (so not kidding), we decided to head back to Nabob. I got a poem using my name from some random guy on the street down in P. Square too, as did the girls.
Embracing the light of knowledge in the
Distance of things well done.
Weird, huh? Moving on, Nabob turned out to be not quite the drunkfest it usually is for me, or Karen for that matter, but the bookseller got a fair bit tossed and needed to stay at my place. We ended up spending half the night talking about random shit, including the sordid details of said tragedy from a year ago. It also turns out that her friends are even more extreme in their dislike of us speaking than you all are (except Karen, who doesn't care). They even deleted my number and stuff from her phone, and threaten to go into crazed hysterics if they ever find out we speak, yet alone all the other things that could happen.
There is a point to explaining all this sometimes. Like this time there's actually a moral to an otherwise long, painful, mostly pointless story. Sometimes we really do have to revisit things, if only to make sure we made the right decisions for all involved. At times I forget how much she drank before she knew she was pregnant, and how much that impacted the decision that we made. Either way, I think this time I won't be drinking myself into oblivion. At times in your life you have to go back and face your demons. The spectres that came back with this one weren't nearly as bad as I thought they would be, which is good. I still think if I ever see my ex-wife again I'd rather have a weapon in hand. so maybe we'll let that one slide for a while longer. Not like I'm in a hurry to revisit that rotting cesspool of hate, disgust, and rage. And it's not just her vagina that I don't want to visit again.
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