“Kiss Me, I’m Shitfaced . . . “
- December 18th, 2009
- Posted in Max
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Another one in the books. I’m done early tonight, too. Home and showered before 6:00 PM? I can’t remember the last time that happened. The pool was closed today, so no cardio at lunch. I’m flaking on running tonight, too. Fuck it.
I’m sorting myself out, staring at a piece of paper that is supposed to become a list of the things I need to do this weekend. Brakes. Plug wires. Oil and fuel filters. Christmas cards and shopping. What the fuck happened to Thanksgiving? I still have food in my teeth . . .
Then reality sinks in, and I realize making lists is fucking futile.
I want to say things went awry this morning when my feet hit the floor, but that isn’t true. Last night I got home and dropped onto the edge of my bed and completely de-motivated. It took ten minutes to peel my boots off. The balls of my feet felt bruised, rolling over the cold wooden floor. I didn’t even bother showering, I just slugged down some whiskey and collapsed into bed.
So much for not drinking on work nights.
Heat seemed to work everywhere in my apartment except my bedroom, which was freezing. I got up only to piss, and get another drink. When the alarm on my cell phone went off at 5:00, I pulled it under the sheets with me. I spent most of an hour curled in a fetal position, clutching my Blackberry and tapping Snooze every 5 minutes.
My leg workout this morning was lousy. No intensity at all. I may as well not have bothered.
No conclusions. Just disappointment. I should just call it right now. Curl up in bed and pass out three paragraphs into a book. At least I’ll wake up early, get a workout in and be productive.
Alternately, I could refill my glass and turn my happy hour into a whiskey blur and a hangover. I’ll wake up after 10:00 AM feeling like I haven’t slept, shovel down some eggs, and shuffle my feet for two hours. I might make it to pick up the parts for my car by 3:00. I won’t actually do any wrenching.
The hurricane will swing around, we’ll get smashed with snow and I’ll get called in to work on Sunday. My car will get stuck in a ditch and I’ll freeze my balls off all day while my boss bitches in my ear.
And all of this with a hangover. If there’s such a thing as a sympathetic character, I ain’t it.
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Seems like something is missing?
Just a feeling.
I feel exactly the same way today, actually. It’s Friday, and my give a damn’s busted. Went to the mall to buy a new shirt to meet some old friends tomorrow. Kinda wanted to look “good.” I haven’t really gone to the mall and “shopped” for “something nice” in a long time. My entire wardrobe basically comes from Target and Wal-Mart. I have at least 12 black “ultimate t-shirts”, probably more.
So the whole mall smells like a stripper’s tits, and everyone looks gay or emo or like some husband who wants to shoot himself in the face. There are stores that might have something I want but they are so douche-faggy that I won’t go in. I just walk around sneering with this disgusted look on my face, like Eastwood in Gran Torino. I almost texted you as I was standing in the “men’s” department at Macy’s. I literally did not know what to do with myself. I was fighting a strong urge to piss on the floor and leave. It just seemed like the most appropriate response. Maybe spray some semen on an Abercrombie & Fitch poster of some shirtless frat boy, because that’s clearly what it’s made for. When I mentioned it to Jesse later, he suggested I just freak out and start flinging feces at horrified shoppers. I left empty handed, but I did get an estimate on new tires at SEARS. So there’s that. Looks like I’m wearing a black t-shirt tomorrow.
Good choice.