Month: May 2006

So i did something bad the other night and i just can’t seem to care. Hearing my friends give me guilt about it just makes it better. Is this true freedom? I’ve tried my entire life to escape the idea of “good and bad” but it’s hard to get rid of things you’re bred with. Good…..evil…..it’s just all perspective……i mean i almost hope i die and it goes down just like the priests have told me.

I raise up to the clouds and see St Peter. He opens up the book of toad, pukes when he reads halfway through it and just starts shaking his head. He flips towards the end of the book, pukes again and then suddenly i’m surrounded by flames. Burning, searing, regret. Going to be great. A eternity of suffering for the sins i have comitted on this beautiful earth.

We go through life just doing shit that you know deep down inside probably isn’t a good idea. You wake up the next morning hungover and bleeding but it really doesn’t matter. Or does it? Fucking whiskey. Wow this is getting really deep.

Anyway. I guess it’s almost stupid to even write about. I won’t know if i’ve been really “good” or really “bad” until i’m cast down into the flames. Nothing probably really happens anyway. The afterlife is just some great little idea we’ve made up to try to make ourselves feel better about our simple little existance. Damn that’s depressing.

Last night i found out that my headlights don’t work. Im going to go outside and try to fix this in a minute but im afraid it might be on the long list of shit i need to fix. I also found out the speedometer doesn’t work, which is kind of liberating. No more guilt of “oh no im doing 20mph over the speed limit” because im still technically going 0mph according to my gauges. I took my date home this morning and being the gentlemen i am, i let her use the one working seatbelt. Who says chivalry is dead.

It was great flying down the interstate, no idea how fast we’re going, only the radar detector to tell us if we’re about to go to jail. I raced this riced out Neon on sam cooper on the way back. Fucker doesn’t know who he’s messing with. He had all of this lame shit weighing down his car, like a backseat, interior, a working speedometer, etc. He got to kiss the rings. Even better was Marla hanging out the passenger side window telling him “whats up, son, huh? what”. I really wish i knew how fast i topped out but i guess i need to try to figure out how to fix the speedometer. That’s saturday evening’s project.

Wow this is great, you rule Lizzy.

Well i finally went and picked up my CRX. My neighbor was sitting outside when i pulled up, he said it looked like something out of Mad Max. I need to get one of those hockey masks. I think i’m going to get a new fender and just start investing in the engine. At least the rims and tires look nice.

Thank you so much Amanda for taking me there. You’re both hot and nice, a rare combination in memphis females.

So yesterday around 7pm i crack. I can’t sit at home and drink in front of the computers anymore. It’s time to leave the apartment and drink somewhere else. I grab a piece of paper and a pen and walk up to the deli. I sit and drink pabst and write manically into my little piece of paper. Finally i decide to go to the celtic crossing for i dunno what reason. I’ve been drinking all day, none of my decisions mean anything at this point.

As i’m walking up Porkchop and some strange girl, who’s name escapes me, pull up on the side street next to the bar. He demands that he has a drink with me. We go in and he has several shots of whiskey and we catch up. He’s apparently doing well, the girl he’s with has lots of cuts across her breasts. My kind of people. You know you’re with some cool people when even you’re self inflicted cuts and cigerette burns doesn’t mess with anyone’s head. Except probably the bartender.

Porkchop demands i come with them to eat at Pacific Rim. I’m hungry and he’s already bought me one new castle so this is a great idea. I don’t eat seafood so i must have been pretty drunk for this to be a good idea. We get there and i notice they have Abita. mmmm. A cold wave abita rushes into my bloodstream and i look at the menu.

I order lobster. You know you’ve been drinking all day when you start ordering stuff you’ve never had before. At least with me. Porkchop makes lots of small talk with our nervous looking waitress who he claims he knows. I eat the entire lobster appetizer which surprises myself. I think lobster is overrated. Steak is much better. Anyway, Porkchop and the girl who’s name still escapes me, drink lots of sake. They want me to drive home.

I know what you’re thinking.

Because i think it too.

I slide into the front seat and we cruise down Poplar blaring the new Tool. We somehow get back to Midtown. It’s seriously been like 3 months since i’ve driven any kind of vehicle. Oh sure, yeah i can drive, why not. I might have saved everyone’s life involved but very well could have ended them all.

It’s 6:45am and i’m about to eat some of the pork roast Peter dropped in the crock pot. Breakfast of champions.

Well Andy Boy got his phone back today. I had nothing to do with it but it’s still good to know he got it back. I was really hoping i was going to connect him with his phone based on the weird call i got but oh well. At least i tried.

The past 5 days have solved 3 of the biggest things fucking with my life. Tomorrow, this weekend, and next week represent a entire new phase of my life. The problem is im so excited about the possibilities that im slipping into a manic rage. I think the last 5-6 days of sitting at home, drinking and eating sleeping pills while talking on aim, might have damaged something in my head. I’m going to go out tonight and hopefully drink with people. Or i’m going to kill some neighborhood pets and feast on the yummy entrails.

Probably just drink.

So the other day i’m trying to pay Peter for his life threatening employment. We go to a gas station and my card is denied. Changing banks is fun. It is. Seriously. Awesome. Okay, plan b, lets go get cash back on the visa. I walk up to the lady at Riteaide with a 12 pack of beer and set it down and ask if i can get cashback on a card. She says no. I start to take the beer back and then just set it down and say “fuck it, thats their job” and walk out. Now when i said it, i didn’t mean like “you have a shitty job, it’s your problem”. It had been a tough day. I didn’t feel like walking the beer back. I was denied sale, it’s their problem. I got other problems. I’m a asshole, fine. I don’t care. I have a job to do. They do, we all do. Goddamn it.  Peter follows me shaking his head.

I figure im helping the economy. Sure, i can’t go back to that Riteaide for a few years but well….plenty of other places to buy beer in this fuck hole city.

naw fuck it, that’s their job. Yeah i feel bad, it’s not their job really but still. Anyway, i guess this is one of those confession updates. You guys like these right? Comment below.

Last night after i got off the phone with andy, the phone rings again and it’s some black dude saying he found andy’s phone on the sidewalk. He said he just called the last number in his phone that he called. I made a few phone calls, to Alex’s and to other friend’s who might have his house phone. No one has it. So if you know andy boy’s house phone or any other way to contact him, give him a call and tell him to call his phone.

FloTekSek: whats important in this pic is not the widescreen laptop, or widezcreen tv, its the gin and tonic thats calling me

scoutMASTERtoad: doggy style too lol
scoutMASTERtoad: nice
FloTekSek:
FloTekSek: i did that on purpose