Sunday night. Still my favorite day, or night rather. No daytime is my favorite. Sick fireball in the sky can lick my crack. Mornings are meant to be ignored.

After watching the finale of the Sopranos I decided I needed the warm belly goodness of vodka. Wasn't satiated by the ender at all. Yeah yeah, they already wacked Ralphie. But shooting up two ghetto thugs doesn't fulfill my gangland tales murder quotient. And the seperation thing. Ugh. I mean, it's alright and semi interesting. Although divorce seems as trite of a plot twist as if Carmella announced she was pregnant. Damnable television writing crutches. Anyway. Slapped on the battle gear and forayed out into the world.

Thinking Valerie. Speculated that she wasn't gonna be there. I was right. Not many reasons to go into Doc's anymore if Val isn't there. Bunch of people suspended from used frayed dental floss, waiting to be dropped into the never ever again. Drink preserving them at this point rather than moving the death peddle further to the floor. Decided I would pound two vodkas and bounce.

The vision was faring no better, and in the smoky darkly lit atmosphere I couldn't focus beyond my rocks glass. Recognised this one chick when she approached within five feet. Ugh. Fucking mistake from my past living in here tonight. Wonderful.

Ever thrown someone a pity fuck? Usually I don't bother, cause later for that garbage. Three years ago I was feeling drunkenly charitable. Chick was begging me to kiss her, so I did. Deadly lips I have. She clutched onto me like an orphaned spider monkey. I was gonna leave and she begged me to take her home. It was extremely pitiful. So I groaned and told her to bring it. Halfway through the whole deal at my crib I couldn't muster the courage to follow through. Just wasn't attracted to her, and her damage didn't help. So I piled her onto the deceased cart and forgot about her. Also avoided her when I saw her again at Doc's. Tears. Christ on a cracker.

So now she has some boyfriend I suppose. I've met this guy before at an after hours smoke out. I think everyone calls him Cowboy. Some tumbleweed fuck from inbred regions being alternative country weed here in the big big city. I fuzzily saw him talking to the bouncer to get me ejected. No doubt she spun a tale of my asshole behavior and he wants to be caveman chivalrous. Seeing as I saved the bouncer's grits on a few occasions he gave him the gas face.

Redneck. That's what they call him. Fits too. Redneck stares me down. Not too effective as his face looked liked a smeared oil painting with the state of my eyes. She decides that they will leave as I aloofly sip my cocktail. He wants me to flinch as he walks by me, as I do him. If you've been following the bouncing ball of my entries lately you might notice a rage trend. My knuckles could do with some scraping.

Just as he gets close enough I sneer and chew on my ice. Sending mental waves of pleading for him to make the first move. Fortunately, nothing went down. One or both of us would have had a serious paining put on them, and probably both wind up with trips downtown. I know I kept spinning in my head, hospital beat down, hospital beat down, hospital beat down.......

Ordered my second drink. Bouncer finally gives me a pound. Avoiding the props until the angry hillbilly left. Drained the second drink and headed to more pleasant climes.

Someone should explain to that chump two things. First, the discarded scarecrow he's now fucking had much more serious past crime put upon her than some deviant, namely me, refuse to let her suck his cock and then never call her. She has open wounds and limply hanging bandaids from daddy or an uncle somewhere and yeah I didn't treat her with empathy or sensitivity. But you are gonna be doing much more of this defending her honor bullshit as I'm sure she has a jam packed dossier of men she believes wronged her in some way. Attempting to kick my ass will never change that.

Second. Currently no one can hate me as much as I do. No one can punish me as much as I'm doing to myself already. Knowing full well I can't kill myself with liquor cause of my tolerance, I pour the poison on down for pain's sake. Take a moment to ruminate on what I possibly might think of you hicktard. Imagine how much I'd love to grab you by the sack and squeeze till shit pops, then while you're bent over in agony drive my knee into your grill, and then stomp you squishy till a few large men restrain me. There's a reason you flinched when you looked into my eyes. I'm in the mood for destruction.

Makes sense I would pick up a new chick at The Library that same night. Convince her to take me home.

Ugh. Drunk sex absolutely has to stop. I'm not ashamed about this one. Never really am anyway. Never so drunk that I will fuck someone I wouldn't want to wake up next to. See the scenario above, I come to my senses and bail. She's cute enough. Just, this one needs lots of validation. I ain't even in the mood at this point for the casual compliments. I freely dish out the compliments normally. I ain't exactly me right now. Good reason that the drunk sex should stop. I will call her. But she likes me, and no one has done that to her, and I am the best kisser and have the best hands, etc. I can tell fuck buddy status won't be good enough. She's hooked already. Gotta back off the spanky opiates. I don't wanna be her pusher.

Fuck. She's a sweetheart. I'm actually rationalising on how I can avoiding being a complete asshole in her life. But I fear no matter how much I try to ease the blow, she's gonna get hurt. I will call her. And we can hang some. But I don't think I want to dispense anymore orgasms on her to head off the relationship fantasies.

Christ, who needs a drink and a spliff?