(no subject)
8:16 - Arrive in Luke's driveway. Receive five boxes of horror movies. Begin drinking.
8:45 - Arrive at Newportville Inn. Have 30-minute conversation with a man who may or may not speak English. Continue drinking, this time a beer that tastes exactly like the table my family owned in 1992. Keith and Luke are confused but not surprised when I submit this analogy. Explain to complete strangers that I refuse to vote unless I am provided with chicken wings. I am again reminded that people seem fascinated with whatever I say, regardless of how stupid or recently-conceived it may be. I begin to consider a future in motivational speaking or standup comedy.
11:30 - Arrive at Great American Pub & Diner. Instantly despise everyone there. Begin having a loud conversation about prepared human flesh as the ultimate contraband. Keith leaves to get more beer, and I poke the enhoodied, hair-over-face girl in the booth behind us. I warn her that he's planning on cooking her. Luke doesn't seem to be as amused by this as I am.
12:10 - I am growing bored with our waitress. Keith and Luke are both enamored. She is somewhere between 43 and 47 (I forget), in excellent shape but very clearly weathered by years and years of partying. Her face is very prematurely aged and determined, and I notice that she has extremely well-toned biceps. At this point I begin to interrupt Keith's flirtations (which are becoming more and more drunkenly agressive) and start feeding her Sarah Connor's lines from Terminator 2, which she has apparently never seen. Every time she comes back with more stuff I make her say another line. We began with "How's the knee?" and eventually graduate to the line about sunblock, which I am so pleased with that I make her say several more times.
At some point after this, two wiggers sit down in the table next to us. I dub them Rockafeller and Thug Bop. They don't seem to understand anything I'm saying. I warn them about Keith's cannibalistic intentions, as well. On the way to the bathroom, some guy at another table starts one of Ghostface Killah's verses from 36 Chambers, and I finish it with him, and we're met with applause as I continue on my way. Things like this seem to be happening rather frequently over the past month.
I don't remember much after this, until I find myself driving through my neighborhood at 3 am, punching the button on my steering column that honks the horn every time I pass a house. I fucking hate my neighbors. I should not have been driving.
I realize in retrospect that we left Keith at the Great American with Sarah, Rockafeller and Thug Bop.
8:45 - Arrive at Newportville Inn. Have 30-minute conversation with a man who may or may not speak English. Continue drinking, this time a beer that tastes exactly like the table my family owned in 1992. Keith and Luke are confused but not surprised when I submit this analogy. Explain to complete strangers that I refuse to vote unless I am provided with chicken wings. I am again reminded that people seem fascinated with whatever I say, regardless of how stupid or recently-conceived it may be. I begin to consider a future in motivational speaking or standup comedy.
11:30 - Arrive at Great American Pub & Diner. Instantly despise everyone there. Begin having a loud conversation about prepared human flesh as the ultimate contraband. Keith leaves to get more beer, and I poke the enhoodied, hair-over-face girl in the booth behind us. I warn her that he's planning on cooking her. Luke doesn't seem to be as amused by this as I am.
12:10 - I am growing bored with our waitress. Keith and Luke are both enamored. She is somewhere between 43 and 47 (I forget), in excellent shape but very clearly weathered by years and years of partying. Her face is very prematurely aged and determined, and I notice that she has extremely well-toned biceps. At this point I begin to interrupt Keith's flirtations (which are becoming more and more drunkenly agressive) and start feeding her Sarah Connor's lines from Terminator 2, which she has apparently never seen. Every time she comes back with more stuff I make her say another line. We began with "How's the knee?" and eventually graduate to the line about sunblock, which I am so pleased with that I make her say several more times.
At some point after this, two wiggers sit down in the table next to us. I dub them Rockafeller and Thug Bop. They don't seem to understand anything I'm saying. I warn them about Keith's cannibalistic intentions, as well. On the way to the bathroom, some guy at another table starts one of Ghostface Killah's verses from 36 Chambers, and I finish it with him, and we're met with applause as I continue on my way. Things like this seem to be happening rather frequently over the past month.
I don't remember much after this, until I find myself driving through my neighborhood at 3 am, punching the button on my steering column that honks the horn every time I pass a house. I fucking hate my neighbors. I should not have been driving.
I realize in retrospect that we left Keith at the Great American with Sarah, Rockafeller and Thug Bop.