Middle of a fantastic sex dream. I was sliding my tongue into Kim Cattrall's pussy. Rotating my tongue in a circular motion along her lips. Some space age vibrator furiously going to work above her clit. I raise my face up to take in the sight of her enflamed flower, a small drop of ejaculate oozes from the bottom of her oval. She quivers and moans.......and then my alarm wakes me up. Damnable digital chronometer, I curse thee to circuit board hades.

The sleep lacks. I chase the snooze maiden through tall weeds full of shiny midnight purple snakes. Land mines and bamboo spike pits litter the path to get to her stronghold. The pursuit becomes more difficult daily. Sleep is my nemesis.

Some might point the accusing finger towards me. Say I should spend my nights meditating and resting the body. Bah! The night belongs to me, I will be lascivious during it. Why waste the night on sleep?

Went to the Yankee game last night. I gave the bozack to baseball many moons ago. Ever since the corrupt jelly eyed umpire blew a call at first base, causing the Cards to lose to the Royals in the I-40 '85 World Series, I pushed baseball fanhood into the dumpster. Chowder monkey ump. Baseball is basically a dead deal in my life. Although going to a game at the park is an experience, and I was in the mood for an experience. Free ticket? Why not.

Boston sucks. Boston Sucks. Boston sucks. If ya hadn't heard, a serious rivalry exists between the Yanks and the Red Sox. The fevered animated colliseum death scream is Boston sucks. I agree that Boston sucks, but it's got nothing to do with baseball. Quite a few stalwart Bo Sox fans were resplendent in their team's gear. I would call it gumption or bravery, but its just hamhead shit. Red scripty letter B on a cap instantly transmographies into a beer bottle dart target.

Two solidly construction worker built middle age men on the other side of the walkway from me were double fisting MGD. Happy drunks to be sure, sloppy drunks to be completely sure. Once, when the balding one fumbled standing up, as he bent over a stream of drool escaped his mouth, down the back of the seat in front of him. Apparently he lost his pivot organs, since he had to rotate in right angles to turn around and go back up to the pisser. Luckily we stuck around for the crowd to disperse once the game was over cause the two men honored us with a karaoke style performance of Sinatra's "New York, New York". Twas a vision most sublime.

The doubled up couple in the seats in front of us were fans of the Boston. Snickered much I did. Cared less about the game, just silly youngsters not realising the lack of dopeness in their city that they love. Poor poor beaners. They were mighty chatty though. I was having what I thought was a personal conversation over my eye woes, and the one chick chimed in that she has the worst eyes, and contacts are the way to go, I've got glaucoma in my family, yoinka yoinka chibber jabber poo poo word hole not stopping, shut your fucking Mass face. They decided they wanted to be our friends. Silly fools.

Must say, the greasy smoky goodness of a ballpark hotdog, is a happy fun time in my mouth. Destroyed two of those devils. Actually makes the cheap, yet not so cheap in egregious overpricing stadium upgrade terms, weiners taste extra yummy. Also, they seek you out, no need to ponder long on where to scare up some grub. The screaming notification of food and beer is on its way. Thats some instant gratification I am down with.

A foul ball kabonged a guy in the skull. He was scrambling to field it from amongst the seats. Guess he missed it as the ball went karabeeing straight back up in the air bouncing off his head plate. Hopefully a tasty knot inflated onto his head.

Details of the game might be enthralling, but I honestly wouldn't know. I paid attention to some strike outs, decent double plays, etc. I was paying more attention to the atmosphere and the human condition than anything that was happening in the game.

On the packed subway ride back to sweet sweet Manhattan I was trying not to make it a sexual situation. Fortunately or not, I had three hotties wrapped around me. It was all thighs, ass and tits rubbing up against me the entire sandwich ride home. Indubitably, at least the one facing in front of me felt my chubby unintentionally poke her a couple of times. At first I was attempting to think of dead puppies, but then I thought about how I was miserable on a crowded train, and I just came from a baseball game I was disinterested in, so fuck it go with the rubbing flow. The chick to the right of me had those hip huggers, and kept running her backside along my thigh, and she had a ghetto bubble with a motor in it. Dangerous to the pants activities. Luckily the compaction was relieved after one stop dumped a good portion of passengers, cause I was increasingly saluting by every second.

Was dragged to a bar. Having slept for a combined total of about seven hours in three days, I was nodding off into my vodka. Snapped out of it, and bounced. My bed felt like a giving lover as I collapsed into the cool smooth sheets, box fan humming. Lights out.