Eff.
Smarty Jones ran ahead for most of the race. after the final turn
birdstone pulled in front. my dream of seeing the triple crown was
crushed. i shouted a series of swears at the teevee and checked the cable
guide for something to distract me from the sense of missed history. just
then i was informed by sam donaldson that ronald reagan had died. history
caught up with me in the nicest way. i am usually not one to celebrate
another person's death, but this was ronald reagan. "go to sleep you evil
fucker" i said and did not have one pang of regret. still don't. i am more
upset about the horse.
in the midst of all this i was convinced i was hung over from last nights
drinking, but it turns out i am probably getting sick. i know hungover and
i know sick. this is the latter. speaking of last night's drunk...
i ended up at the four a.m. known as Underbar on western and belmont. upon
my first trip to get drinks i bump in to 2 girls sitting bellied up to the
bar. immediately tony and i start lying to them. telling these girls that
tony has a phD in climatology, specializing in 19th century weather
patterns. i whisper remarks in one of the girl's ear that tony is
really not a phD in climatology but actually an undercover cop. then i
tell her that i have slept with tom skilling.
somewhere around this moment, tony's weather loving girl says this:
"hillary rodham clinton is a jew bitch". mostly, i think, that comment is
incorrect on both levels it attempts to address. tony lies and says he is
jewish and offended and we both walk away, pretty much loving it.
moments later i go to get another beer and this other girl bumps into me.
i look at her and she says "you recognize me because of the porn site i do
where i just eat steak and shake naked". which i do not. i tell her tho
that i'll link her site for my site. then i describe the site as "people
forcing me to eat wedding cake". so i end up talking to this girl and her
friend when this other fella walks up.
turns out these girls have a friend who looks EXACTLY like ryan seacrest. brownish hair frosted brown and spiked up. the same dumb vacant look in his eye. white teeth and t-shirt that is a bit too small and a bit too vintage printed to actually be a vintage print, something about hawaii and surfing.
so, i start calling him ryan seacrest. he gets mad and wants to fight me. i
cool him out a little and basically he makes the terrible case of "this
would never happen to me in LA or New York, there no one cares if you look
like someone" ah, the old LA/NY argument for style and substance. fuck
this, now i want to crush ryan seacrest, but, the girls cool this
situation out again, mostly by touching my back. now, it is 4am, and it is time
to go. i leave and note that ryan seacrest is still contemplating a little
tussle. i stick around for a minute and the girls come out and hug me and
talk all dumb sexy for just enough time for their friend to sneak away down the street with a pace somewhere near olympic walking.
silly. it was all so silly. i never would have hit the guy. how could i
have lived with myself if i hit a guy because he was mad that he looked
like ryan seacrest? even drunk this made much sense to me. but still,
sometimes being drunk is an obvious form of acting.
ah, pretty girls, insecure LA boys and bunch of dumb lies. i am pretty
sure it was somewhere in these exchanges that i got sick. a psychic form
of sick that is just now manifesting itself physically. malaise and deep
sleep naps while sweating out toxins into throw pillows.
wish me luck,
-jae.
birdstone pulled in front. my dream of seeing the triple crown was
crushed. i shouted a series of swears at the teevee and checked the cable
guide for something to distract me from the sense of missed history. just
then i was informed by sam donaldson that ronald reagan had died. history
caught up with me in the nicest way. i am usually not one to celebrate
another person's death, but this was ronald reagan. "go to sleep you evil
fucker" i said and did not have one pang of regret. still don't. i am more
upset about the horse.
in the midst of all this i was convinced i was hung over from last nights
drinking, but it turns out i am probably getting sick. i know hungover and
i know sick. this is the latter. speaking of last night's drunk...
i ended up at the four a.m. known as Underbar on western and belmont. upon
my first trip to get drinks i bump in to 2 girls sitting bellied up to the
bar. immediately tony and i start lying to them. telling these girls that
tony has a phD in climatology, specializing in 19th century weather
patterns. i whisper remarks in one of the girl's ear that tony is
really not a phD in climatology but actually an undercover cop. then i
tell her that i have slept with tom skilling.
somewhere around this moment, tony's weather loving girl says this:
"hillary rodham clinton is a jew bitch". mostly, i think, that comment is
incorrect on both levels it attempts to address. tony lies and says he is
jewish and offended and we both walk away, pretty much loving it.
moments later i go to get another beer and this other girl bumps into me.
i look at her and she says "you recognize me because of the porn site i do
where i just eat steak and shake naked". which i do not. i tell her tho
that i'll link her site for my site. then i describe the site as "people
forcing me to eat wedding cake". so i end up talking to this girl and her
friend when this other fella walks up.
turns out these girls have a friend who looks EXACTLY like ryan seacrest. brownish hair frosted brown and spiked up. the same dumb vacant look in his eye. white teeth and t-shirt that is a bit too small and a bit too vintage printed to actually be a vintage print, something about hawaii and surfing.
so, i start calling him ryan seacrest. he gets mad and wants to fight me. i
cool him out a little and basically he makes the terrible case of "this
would never happen to me in LA or New York, there no one cares if you look
like someone" ah, the old LA/NY argument for style and substance. fuck
this, now i want to crush ryan seacrest, but, the girls cool this
situation out again, mostly by touching my back. now, it is 4am, and it is time
to go. i leave and note that ryan seacrest is still contemplating a little
tussle. i stick around for a minute and the girls come out and hug me and
talk all dumb sexy for just enough time for their friend to sneak away down the street with a pace somewhere near olympic walking.
silly. it was all so silly. i never would have hit the guy. how could i
have lived with myself if i hit a guy because he was mad that he looked
like ryan seacrest? even drunk this made much sense to me. but still,
sometimes being drunk is an obvious form of acting.
ah, pretty girls, insecure LA boys and bunch of dumb lies. i am pretty
sure it was somewhere in these exchanges that i got sick. a psychic form
of sick that is just now manifesting itself physically. malaise and deep
sleep naps while sweating out toxins into throw pillows.
wish me luck,
-jae.