a night of little to no synchronicity
Everything seemed to be going wrong. JR started the evening by singing a happy song in the bathroom to having the shaving cream blow up in his face. there were two huge streaks running from his neck up into his hair. nils drove half an hour each way to pick up a girl he didn't come back with. he was angered and began drinking heavily. his goal for the night was to black out. i think he had success.
i was to be the dd. it's kind of like being daredevil, only my superpower is i'm not drunk. i ended up drinking anyway. whatever.
from the moment of conception i defy this ordeal. i can feel shit on my canines from eating lunch and i don't brush my teeth. i leave my hair unshaped, shooting in a thousand different directions, i don't shave and refuse to change out of a tee shirt and jeans.
i'll say this much for city walk, i like the midnight spray idea. i wish i could have been fucked up and with jen in the middle of it. i'll say that much. but i wasn't, so it just sucked. whatever.
everything about where i am feels wrong. all of it screams, shawn! you do not belong! and jr has this feeling as well, as he's tired of being there, tired of the same thing every weekend, the push and the pull and all of that. so the rest of that is, i'm not supposed to drink. but i do. it's my superweakness.
eventually we make it out. there's a lot to it, but none of it really matters. what matters is that nils can hardly walk, and jr is chanting, like a mantra, a hotel and the room number. but first, people need food and we have to figure out where the hell this place is. he'd picked up the idea from some girl in the middle of this cover metal disgust, some bret michaels clone with tights and a cowboy hat and no shirt. he was fucked up from shooting tequila. i could tell as much, not by his inability to sing, but by the order in which he took the necessary tequila fuck-me-ups. the tequila fuck-me-ups, by the way, is a prescribed series of motions that goes lick/swallow/suck/order another. i think he was doing it perfectly backwards. whatever.
the point is that on our way back, we get turned around and bust a u in the midst of some ricers that leave me too furious
geh. i don't even have the energy to make a bad joke.
bam. we spot the hotel. that's the point. and we park. let me just cut to the part where we all urinate in the fake plastic bushes in the lobby, the room turned out to be the wrong one and i steal a phone. parking was going to be a minimum of two bucks and i figured that i might as well get our money's worth. i tried stealing a potted plant and a big dish of some sort, but they were glued, yeah, to the table. so i ganked the phone receiver. i have no idea either.
we leave and there was some bullshit, blah blah blah this is too long already
let me just cut to nils complaining about just wanting to go to bed and jr and i decide to take him into madison's pancake house, and that was some hilarity.
he gets a text:
autumn: hi.
me: hi back.
that's how his phone reads, as it keeps track of the text conversation.
autumn: how's your evening going?
me: i'm so drunk that i'm having one of my friends text for me because i can't spell.
now, some back story on autumn... well, she's a christian girl that won't let nils sleep with her and it's at this point that we're again having this conversation, all exasperation and frustration and fuck a bitch or whatever the automatic response is, so i text
me: i love jesus. he is my savior.
autumn: that's not humorous to me.
uh oh. i figure he won't give a shit, but i contingency him anyway,
me: my phone's been hijacked.
me: send jesus.
we all have a good laugh.
there was some other talk and then nils is just (and apparently often) wanting to be taken to autumn's.
i don't know why i wrote this down. i'm sure i had a point when i started.
i guess my point is that nothing happened. and i'm tired of that.
what's tragedy? what's triumph? at the end of the day we just don't want to be conscious anymore.
a soft and warm bed with a soft and warm loved one.
--jennypoo-ologist--
i was to be the dd. it's kind of like being daredevil, only my superpower is i'm not drunk. i ended up drinking anyway. whatever.
from the moment of conception i defy this ordeal. i can feel shit on my canines from eating lunch and i don't brush my teeth. i leave my hair unshaped, shooting in a thousand different directions, i don't shave and refuse to change out of a tee shirt and jeans.
i'll say this much for city walk, i like the midnight spray idea. i wish i could have been fucked up and with jen in the middle of it. i'll say that much. but i wasn't, so it just sucked. whatever.
everything about where i am feels wrong. all of it screams, shawn! you do not belong! and jr has this feeling as well, as he's tired of being there, tired of the same thing every weekend, the push and the pull and all of that. so the rest of that is, i'm not supposed to drink. but i do. it's my superweakness.
eventually we make it out. there's a lot to it, but none of it really matters. what matters is that nils can hardly walk, and jr is chanting, like a mantra, a hotel and the room number. but first, people need food and we have to figure out where the hell this place is. he'd picked up the idea from some girl in the middle of this cover metal disgust, some bret michaels clone with tights and a cowboy hat and no shirt. he was fucked up from shooting tequila. i could tell as much, not by his inability to sing, but by the order in which he took the necessary tequila fuck-me-ups. the tequila fuck-me-ups, by the way, is a prescribed series of motions that goes lick/swallow/suck/order another. i think he was doing it perfectly backwards. whatever.
the point is that on our way back, we get turned around and bust a u in the midst of some ricers that leave me too furious
geh. i don't even have the energy to make a bad joke.
bam. we spot the hotel. that's the point. and we park. let me just cut to the part where we all urinate in the fake plastic bushes in the lobby, the room turned out to be the wrong one and i steal a phone. parking was going to be a minimum of two bucks and i figured that i might as well get our money's worth. i tried stealing a potted plant and a big dish of some sort, but they were glued, yeah, to the table. so i ganked the phone receiver. i have no idea either.
we leave and there was some bullshit, blah blah blah this is too long already
let me just cut to nils complaining about just wanting to go to bed and jr and i decide to take him into madison's pancake house, and that was some hilarity.
he gets a text:
autumn: hi.
me: hi back.
that's how his phone reads, as it keeps track of the text conversation.
autumn: how's your evening going?
me: i'm so drunk that i'm having one of my friends text for me because i can't spell.
now, some back story on autumn... well, she's a christian girl that won't let nils sleep with her and it's at this point that we're again having this conversation, all exasperation and frustration and fuck a bitch or whatever the automatic response is, so i text
me: i love jesus. he is my savior.
autumn: that's not humorous to me.
uh oh. i figure he won't give a shit, but i contingency him anyway,
me: my phone's been hijacked.
me: send jesus.
we all have a good laugh.
there was some other talk and then nils is just (and apparently often) wanting to be taken to autumn's.
i don't know why i wrote this down. i'm sure i had a point when i started.
i guess my point is that nothing happened. and i'm tired of that.
what's tragedy? what's triumph? at the end of the day we just don't want to be conscious anymore.
a soft and warm bed with a soft and warm loved one.
--jennypoo-ologist--