in the past few months, i've had 2 laptops crash, one with all my writing, the other with all my music. and then my ipod crashed. My laptop was back up for most of my music-the ipod was my primary source. Then, this night happened: i was a little frustrated to begin with. Nothing major, just, i guess, my disposition for a day like today: snowy, absolutely beautiful out, and just felt very stuck reading overwritten essays on theory and wanting to be 12 and sledding or drinking baileys and coffee after cross-country skiing with my dad. but while i was selling my plasma this morning, i got a call from some of my parent’s friends who were in town visiting family. they brought up my hiking boots that i left at home over christmas. I got directions and was invited to a cocktail hour at their home. so my wife and i went and there were a lot of people i didn't know but they were drunkingly offering landscaping positions to me for the summer, so i stayed for a couple drinks. the women were drinking a lot of vodka. After what meant to be a hiking boot pickup turned into a 5 ½ hour dinner event, i went home Details from the event: fishing and hunting stories, getting a whiskey buzz, giving up the buzz so I could drive home, more hunting and fishing stories and then lectures by drunks of how to drink responsibly, then an obligation to stay for dinner. when I got home, i only wanted a few beers, a chew and, being too killed-buzz-headachy to read, a little video game football. Well, the playstation quit working. i wasn't too terribly upset cause my brother sent up a stand up comedy dvd that i thought i'd watch instead. thats when i realized that the playstation would no longer read dvds, either. However, along with the comedy dvd, he sent a vhs tape of an anticipated ufc fight that he bought and recorded off pay per view. i thought, "well, no video games, no comedy; no-rules authentic fighting seems like the next logical step." well, the vhs tape did not record and the only thing on the tape was an old taped-off-tv-version of dirty dancing. im convinced that if you think your pissy night cant get any worse, you're wrong. If you throw patrick swayzee in tight clothes into the mix, your evening will get worst.
so now, i'm gonna sit here now in the dark and concentrate on my headache. i may create a nickelback radio station on pandora and listen to it ridiculously fuckin loud to enhance the experience. and then try to commit half page long overwritten sentences from my theory book to memory. i'll do this all with very dim lighting in order to strain my eyes to the point of blindness. then, i may shove a q-tip up my pee hole and jerk off till i shoot it out into my blind eyes.
enjoy your evening, too.
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