No lie.
First of all, that's a lot of fucking mixes. I'm just doing my damn best.
Second, this post's in parts. Take it as you like. There's a funny story at the end. I dated this girl Kerry for a little while, but she's gone around the country. I may or may not be going to Montana/Austin/Indiana/New England. The only thing I'm certain about is that I have to quit my job soon so I can leave. I have an audition. The director I'm working for at my internship (Strawdog Theater Company) often directs at another local theater (Writer's Theater). Yesterday, Writer's call me to ask me to audition for a play he's directing. I went to Lollapalooza. I have seen the Arcade Fire, the Pixies, the Kaiser Chiefs, the Killers. The Arcade fire has a line in their song Wake Up that goes "With my lightning bolts a-glowin', I can see where I am goin'." That's the motto of my life for now. The roommates and I had a big party. Lots of people came, I got drunk, and the cops came. There were five of them, all women dressed in Kevlar with 52 round of ammunition. Some were brusque, some were lively. They asked me for my age. I told them. They asked me if I had been drinking. I said yes. They left.
Other than that, you guys want to hear a funny story? I don't think I've committed too many actual, honest to god Freudian slips in my lifetime, but I had a good one the other day. I was in the bar (this is the Morseland Cafe; it's where I work) and I'm about to start my shift. I'm a busboy, which means that my job revolves around six plastic pitchers of ice water. It's my job to keep them full and to tote them around and fill glasses. You all know what a busboy does.
I show up one Friday and the usual waitresses are working, which means the one whose cat I'm taking care of now, and the one who's pregnant. I'm going to avoid using her real name, but it's mostly because I can't spell it. I also don't really know what it is. It sounds something like "Tomorrow", but I don't have the courage to ask her again. We've been working together several weeks.
During these weeks, I happened to have noticed certain things about her. For instance, she is pregnant. Like, basketball pregnant. I don't know how many months, but I can reasonably imagine a tiny human being growing on the front of her. I don't spend too much time around pregnant women, so this is my first real experience with a woman bearing a child. I don't know why it weirds me out, but if you're around a pregnant woman, try and realistically imagine that she is carrying another human being inside of her. This is the thought that shakes me up whenever I pay too much attention to her belly.
There are also other things that happen to women when the babies come. These are things that are difficult to not notice, especially when the woman is not unattractive. It's weird to notice a woman's breasts when she is pregnant. Sometimes you can't help it. Sometimes she wears tight shirts. I show up one day and Tomorrow is wearing a tight pink shirt. It's okay. I'll not look. That's fine. Don't look. I come out of the kitchen with my towel. Don't look. There aren't giant milky breasts resting on top of the yoga ball. Damn! Tiny growing fetus. Tiny growing fetus. Tiny growing fetus. I walk up to my water station. She's standing right there. Don't think about breasts. Don't think about breasts. Two of my pitchers are missing. There are only four on the counter. Don't think about breasts.
"Hey Tomorrow, have you seen those jugs?"
Damn.
Second, this post's in parts. Take it as you like. There's a funny story at the end. I dated this girl Kerry for a little while, but she's gone around the country. I may or may not be going to Montana/Austin/Indiana/New England. The only thing I'm certain about is that I have to quit my job soon so I can leave. I have an audition. The director I'm working for at my internship (Strawdog Theater Company) often directs at another local theater (Writer's Theater). Yesterday, Writer's call me to ask me to audition for a play he's directing. I went to Lollapalooza. I have seen the Arcade Fire, the Pixies, the Kaiser Chiefs, the Killers. The Arcade fire has a line in their song Wake Up that goes "With my lightning bolts a-glowin', I can see where I am goin'." That's the motto of my life for now. The roommates and I had a big party. Lots of people came, I got drunk, and the cops came. There were five of them, all women dressed in Kevlar with 52 round of ammunition. Some were brusque, some were lively. They asked me for my age. I told them. They asked me if I had been drinking. I said yes. They left.
Other than that, you guys want to hear a funny story? I don't think I've committed too many actual, honest to god Freudian slips in my lifetime, but I had a good one the other day. I was in the bar (this is the Morseland Cafe; it's where I work) and I'm about to start my shift. I'm a busboy, which means that my job revolves around six plastic pitchers of ice water. It's my job to keep them full and to tote them around and fill glasses. You all know what a busboy does.
I show up one Friday and the usual waitresses are working, which means the one whose cat I'm taking care of now, and the one who's pregnant. I'm going to avoid using her real name, but it's mostly because I can't spell it. I also don't really know what it is. It sounds something like "Tomorrow", but I don't have the courage to ask her again. We've been working together several weeks.
During these weeks, I happened to have noticed certain things about her. For instance, she is pregnant. Like, basketball pregnant. I don't know how many months, but I can reasonably imagine a tiny human being growing on the front of her. I don't spend too much time around pregnant women, so this is my first real experience with a woman bearing a child. I don't know why it weirds me out, but if you're around a pregnant woman, try and realistically imagine that she is carrying another human being inside of her. This is the thought that shakes me up whenever I pay too much attention to her belly.
There are also other things that happen to women when the babies come. These are things that are difficult to not notice, especially when the woman is not unattractive. It's weird to notice a woman's breasts when she is pregnant. Sometimes you can't help it. Sometimes she wears tight shirts. I show up one day and Tomorrow is wearing a tight pink shirt. It's okay. I'll not look. That's fine. Don't look. I come out of the kitchen with my towel. Don't look. There aren't giant milky breasts resting on top of the yoga ball. Damn! Tiny growing fetus. Tiny growing fetus. Tiny growing fetus. I walk up to my water station. She's standing right there. Don't think about breasts. Don't think about breasts. Two of my pitchers are missing. There are only four on the counter. Don't think about breasts.
"Hey Tomorrow, have you seen those jugs?"
Damn.