Oh my. What weekday liquor brings. The stout of chest should only enter the arena.

Met Jav for happy hour cocktails last night. He ain't adjusting happily as he'd cotton to being back in the slave shackles. Jobby jobs am a bitch. Sure and tootin. Especially for the technically minded work world, layers of snotty nose poop cake is served. Snippy little hall monitor bastards with shiny deputy badges attached to their ID cards. Middle management is the spiteful eunuch sector of this modern day corporate structure we's all hammered under. Ya heard me? No power to make real productive changes or decisions, and commisioned with all the gnat buzzing authority that self important dripping spunk buckets love for poking people in the side with.

Lager bandages were ordered from the nurses immediately. Discovered, to my nonplussed bemusement, that my standard Stoli and seltzer carries zero carbs. Wonderful. Exactly what I dreamt upon a falling star. My poison labelled as Atkins compliant. Now, I only need to constantly binge on bacon wrapped t-bones, with cheddar sauce and sliced deep fat fried eggs. My rectum will be jam packed to the walls with chewed meat sinew in no time.

Remember when it was urgent that everyone consume as much oat product as possible? I can't wait for Atkins friendly breakfast cereal. Mutton flakes. With real lamb flavor.

My favorite bar hottie, Val, dispensed streams of burning gut tonics on me. She had to ensure I entered silly spanky world as quickly as possible. An energy enhanced vodka, I wish I was bullshitting, called Zygo, had to be sampled. Combined with Rock Star it tasted like a melted flower arrangement.

Before even glancing at the ingredients list for Rock Star I was sure it was bad juju for my throat. Sure enough, like all the slender canned stimulators popular with the kids these days, caffeine reared her ugly fists. And what isn't Mr. spanky Rogers supposed to put inside his body boys and girls? Gold stars to the ones that paid attention. Yes, thank you, I am not supposed to put caffeine inside my body. Might have had a quarter of a can shaken into a collection of samplers. Ears and esophagus all scratchy like a dry weathered shingle this morning. Feels like I took massive furry Tasmanian devil dick in my throat and ear canals. Who wants to trade double helixes? I call no give backs or interference due to sun in eyes, branches or incoming cars.

A local chick made numerous visits to Jav and I's stools. Complaining of not enough punk on the mostly blues inspired establishment. Um, welcome to club clueless lady. She had troubling haphazard pharaoh liner circuling her caked lashes. Bemoaning the loss of The Bank, "the best goth joint in the city". I am all for sneering, black spider web frocked, death pale vampire roll players having their relatively harmless fun. However, if I get prissy tude for not looking like one of the undead when ordering a drink, that shit needs to get the fuck out of my hood. Monoculture cliques are played out. The Bank turning into a upscale gentlemen's club was no tradgedy to me, quite quasi-ironically funny if you ask me.

This one's orthodontia was a problem. Looked like she was kicked in the side of her mouth, and never took the time for corrective measures, or even carry on the normal everyday brushing activities of the collapsed side of her jaw. Pherenge grill is difficult for me to even look at. Much less overlook to send the cock troops in.

Onset of primetime drinking introduced the next doctor of mixology. Felicia is a tasty curvy cupcake. Apparently my dimples are enough to send signals to her juice factory. Extremely satisfying knowledge that. She likes all gender avenues of pleasure. I would snack on her angelic rump for hours if she let me.

Jav shot some stick with the kitchen crew. My irises still recovering from forced dilating at the doc's office earlier that day, I declined the offer to partner up on the fools. He bounced soon after that. His clock radio set to yank his leash early. Shame.

As per a phone conversation today, Jav claims to have not witnessed the entrance of Rosa. As I couldn't recall whether or not he was there at the time, it made no sense to feed him descriptive details. Rosa is Cubana. Woof. She supplied the entertainment for the rest of the naughty hours.

Tight body. Fresh faced for a single mother in her forties. Dirty mouthed vixen. Told me she only wanted to bone deviant looking white boys. Likes taking it in the jaw and dirtbox, load dribbling down her chin. She had my attention. Grabbing my thigh she announced a play by play of a blowjob she gave a young man in the bathroom. She was smooth in mentioning that her crib was directly across Avenue A. No New Years resolution sputem here, but I have decided to refrain, when at all humanly possible, from casual sex. Sigh. Made increasingly difficult as she unleashed the girls from their bra. Of course I pinched a nipple. Fasting from casual sex is one thing, dipping my fingers in the candy bowl I shall always do. She also scooted her jeans down so her thong popped out. Fine backyard she's got. I gave it a masterful smack. Who'd have guess that would turn her on? Mercifully, liquor tolerance meter pushed into the red for her. I was spared from any boot knocking cranial debate. To bone, or not to bone, that is the blasted question.

I thank her from the coal chamber of my heart for one last feat of nipple blazing splendiferosity. Grabbed the cocktail waitress by the hips and peeled her shirt off. Great Zeus on a bolt, the waitress was mighty eager to display her wares. Proud strawberry pink centered specimens both adorned with silver piercings. Not much of a tit man, but sweet Jimmy Jay Jay Walker, her boobies were DY-NO-MIIIIIITE!

Decided enough of a liver river was carved out. Felicia demanded we rub bare bellies before my departure. The thin hairs on my tummy rubbing along her smooth supple stomach gave me goosebumps. She giggled, "that tickled". Yeah, whenever she wants me to throw the bib on, big baby will giddily din din on her belly button. I started warming up the shaft on the walk home. Rough night for my sheets.