the night my vacation started we went with happy hour. we ate a lot of stuff and drank a lot more. a conversation at the bar lead to me suggesting we drive out to vegas that night and finish out that weekend proper. everybody was in except one crybaby who was being such a crybaby that she forced me to corner her in the bathroom and strongarm her into going with us. my lesson there was to make sure i was taking fake shots while everyone else took real ones, that way everyone would be 100% in and i might even still be able to drive.

we didn't go.

i remember having a conversation with a hot old guy and wondering if i could get him to fuck me in the bathroom. he was really old too. what the hell is my obsession with old guys anyway, seriously?

anyway.

on our way to another bar i backed into an illegal without a license. her shotgun rider was getting smart and tried to get money out of me. i got brave and offered to just call the police instead. the lady selling roses in a bucket assured her that was not an acceptable option and we were on our way. shit my pants much? kindof!

fuck work.
fuck it right in it's pretty little mouth.
i was getting so depressed about having to go back that i've been ripped since saturday afternoon.
i'm pretty sure i'm still drunk now so we'll talk later.

This text is set to "small" instead of "smallest" for old blind people since the old and blind is the demo for this blog

ok so yeah my binger will be 33 days rather than 30. so fucking what. fucking sue me. i don't know how i can be expected to run 13 miles hammered. it was not supposed to happen this way. speaking of hammered, i think it's charming when you young guys say words like 'hammered' and 'bro' and 'sick'. and when i say charming i mean that in a summer's eve kind of way. remember when i only attracted 23 year old hot chics who thought i too was 23 so it was ok for us to make out in public? well it appears i've moved on to 27 year old doucheys who think i too am 27 so it's ok to make out in public. yes sir, wear your aviators in bars at night and keep your breezy button down shirt buttoned down to show your hairless chest and silver ring on your middle finger. this is not the one who had my hand down his pants though. no, not him. i would never hold the cock of a man who wears a middle finger ring.

tight

3days until i start a 30day binger. wait, maybe 2 since that bitch should technically start friday. yesss friday. i plan on being a lady lunching a lot. lunching with all the friends i can't ever seem to make time for during the real life times. i plan on thrift shopping with my sigg bottle full of a vodka concoction twice weekly. i plan on catching the pig flu in mexico while making out with some bartender in some resort bathroom then recovering from said flu easily because i won't be able to tell if it's actually the flu or just a hangover. by recovering i mean shampooing my drunk into a nice drunken lather again. rinse. repeat. all i can talk about is being on vacation and when i get back i'm going to read this and be so fucking pissed off that i'm not still on vacation. i have 4 new years resolutionswritten on a piece of scrap paper and taped to the wall of my office. i have already failed at the first two. wait, looking at 3 & 4 it seems i am failing at those too. also, i gave breastfeeding advise yesterday.

ps. xtx, i'm coming to near you sometime in the next 30 days so whattaya say to a liquid lunch? and maybe a burrito. your beaches are better than mine.

16 days shy

hooray for the world, i am drinking again. 6 months is a long time and now i'm buzzed from one beer while i wait in line for an hour and a half for a hot dog. i'm buzzed from one glass of wine while i sit in a rocking chair with my feet up on the fire pit. i'm buzzed from 3 shots of rice wine, all taken with erect pinkies. it will be a long road to get back to the point of going down on 3 martinis before i notice the stirrings. one thing though, the conversations are easier. to start, at least. i'm the bravest little chicken shit you know. i don't need booze for anal and he does. weird.

i'm leaving on a
red-eye
for NY tomorrow.
not fun NY, upstate NY.
this trip comes at a very
inopportune time
for me as one of my traveling companions and i are in a
rough place.
fake smiles,
even for someone like me, are
ridiculous.
baseball hall of fame.
i would like to stand toe-to-toe with someone in
that town
and look into her eyes.
UP
into her eyes
(i'm short)
and give her the look of
doom.
i'm sure you had no idea how
scrappy
i am.
yankee game.
no beer.
lame.

douchey

No, I am not on vacation...yet. I have been busy being a douchebag. Here is a list of douchey things I have done since we spoke last:
i wrote code for 3 weeks straight then birthed a brand new website and it was painful and gave me stretch marks and has a douchey face that only a mother could love. i finished 90 days of that douchey p9ox and it was painful and gave me stretch marks but now i have douchey guns with cannons and rocket launchers and scopes attached. i have stuck to my douchey personal goal of not drinking alcohol for 5 of the 6 proposed douchey months and it has been painful and has most likely given me stretch marks and come day 6months +1day when I do finally drink again it will be a douchey waste of 'all inclusive' because i'll be shitfaced after one drink. i have eaten some chocolate fondue that was so delightful that i swear it was actually shit from heavenly angels with beautiful breasts and shiney hair. ok, so that wasn't so douchey. maybe the analagy was. not sorry. but i will be on vacation soon.

3.5 wks

This has to be some kind of fucking record, right? Well I guess it's more of a non-fucking record if you're gonna get all technical with it, be that way, jerk. Yeah, go ahead and rub it in. You heard me. Anyway. I was at the mall the other day, I just strolled along by myself and would find myself ducking in and out of the usual stores. Some were for girls a lot younger than me but I still kind of feel like I can get away with it because I'm little and youngish looking. I tell ya, I can fool you with like 10 years, I swear. Well I also found myself in the same stores, at the same time with this stunning ladyperson. It wasn't like I was stalking her or anything, and trust me I would totally tell you if I was, but I guess we were just walking on the same path in the mall-two people who started at the same place. So I told you she was stunning and she was. She was thin and porceline and had a really cute little sloped nose. My guess is that she was a ballerina and I guessed this because she was thin yet muscular and had very good posture. Like, she was silently encouraging me to straighten up. Her hair was dark and her eyelashes long. She had little boobs but a killer butt. I think you get it, she was a looker. I'd hit it. Anyway, a little while later I found me and my fake-shopping buddy in a shoe store where the shoes are expensive but sexy-just like me. haha, just kidding, I'm not THAT sexy. So I'm waiting for the sales guy to bring out fourteen pairs of shoes for me so I'm just sitting back on the leather couch with both arms splayed out to the side, you know, relaxin. Of course in walks lady friend and she seemed to know exactly what she wanted because she walked up to a black patent leather jobby and asked for a size 8. She sat kind of across from me and got ready to try them on by taking off her own shoes. You know when someone's voice doesn't match their face? Well her feet didn't match her at all because they were gnarley. I'm serious. Our fake-friendship ended right then and there and maybe that's silly or petty of me but damn woman! And I think that locked up the fact that she's a ballerina. I bet you only kept reading because you thought something better would happen so sorry to dissapoint you. Oh wait, here's something! Soon after that I got a text message that read, "I'm gonna jack off in yer hair." It was from a girl. I laughed and tried on all those shoes and walked out the opposite way of my ex fake friend.
Like I said, it's some kind of non-fucking record.

Only a couple more days of livin my life as xtx' favorite number and it seems that all of my friends have become knocked up douchebags. seriously, all of them. they're all knocked up. they're all killing me with their douchebaggery. i'm being a bit of a crybaby so ok enough. check this out. i get a month off work. for free. this is in recognition of working in the same spot for 5+ distinguished years. so i am busy planning what i will do with this time and it's harder than you think, especially because the state of california is being a huge dickface and not sending me my money. you know what california, you stupid bitch? what if i owed YOU money and was like "hey, i mis-managed my money so unfortunately i'm not going to be able to pay you. indefinitely. whoops! sorry about that." yeah right, try saying anything close to that and half my check is going to that dirty whore california and i wouldn't be able to say shit about it. so what i'm saying is, california i love you and your perfect weather but give me my fucking money. skank. i do not know why california is a female. i digress. i am leaving this country during that free month off. i am also running a marathon. i am also camping. not in that order. when i leave the country i will go to another country where i only speak the language when i am drunk. well guess what?! since i am training for that marathon i am not drinking! how will i converse with the people in this foreign land? how will i make out with girls in their 20's without first drinking 3 beers followed by 3 shots? (that is not required but it is usually what preceeds my making-out-with-2o-yr-old-shenanigans.) hot 20 somethings love me and they love making out with me. it is a curse. one that i hope never ends.

i'd say that 98% of my life is spent wondering how the people i encounter in my daily life are in bed. and how they'd fair with me, if given the go'head. like that super nice guy at work, all american, kind of looks like mr incred ible from that cartoon movie. sometimes his pants are a tad too short but this is more about fucking and less about fashion, right? i guess. anyway, he's the kind of guy who asks you how you're doing every time you pass him in the halls-then i feel bad because i just say fine and dont' ask back. i'll walk behind him and find myself thinking 'well, he has a kid so that means he had sex at least once. so is he like my bf-hating every minute of it, doing everything in his power to make sure he doesn't have to look at the vagina? or is he like me, completely starved and wishing on shooting stars that someone will fulfil my rape fantasy or pray that one day, ONE DAY, i'll be lucky enough to get DP'd all proper like?' i settle on the thought that he and his wife plan every encounter-mostly around her period or whether or not he was a good boy and took out the garbage without her asking. all while he's secretly searching craigslist to find and fuck a mexican tran ny with too much eyeliner and a tight, tan ass. that fat jerk two offices down: likes to be called daddy and secretly wishes he could find a hot young japchic to sh it oh him. the chic who told her (now ex-shocker!) husband that he couldn't take her in the ass until their 10 yr anniversary: gives terrible head must shower immediately afterwards. my boss: loves to bend a lady over anything, just as long as she's completely naked. the security guard at the gate of the garage: on more than one occasion has turned up in the emergency room with a litebulb up his ass. the douchebag who sold me my phone headset at the kiosk in the mall: puts a gun to his girlfriends face while he fucks her, while they lay upon a bed of dollar bills (wishes they were hundos). everybody. i study their faces looking for any clue they'll give me. how do their hands hang at their sides? how do they walk? how are they touching the person they're with. this is not a science. i'm gross.