the goddamn microwave
All I want is
my goddamn microwave back.
Is that too much to ask for?
It’s not like I didn’t leave anything else…
I mean, you are clearly
humping the new guy
on my goddamn sheets...
On my goddamn bed!
Probably on my goddamn
couch and love-seat too.
And that’s fine.
That’s what I left it all there for;
For your goddamn fuck-fests
with the new pot dealer.
And all I really want back is
my goddamn microwave.
bruised-face-guy & dick-nose-aids-girl & pissed-on-wedding-ring
I drank a lot while I watched this movie just a few minutes ago.
Tequila and orange soda.
I like Fanta.
But I am a water drinker, not a Fanta drinker…
No soda anymore.
This is mainly because I’ve decided that I want to start watching my calories.
I need to keep my boyish figure in order to entice ladies to roam my way.
But right now I am pretty tipsy, sitting at this typewriter, and I’m fairly paranoid.
I don’t want to wake my roommates up.
It’s two o clock in the morning.
I really have to pee… real bad.
And since I am wearing headphones, I am sure that the click-clacking of these keys is a lot louder than it seems.
In this movie I just watched, while I drank all of the tequila and orange soda,
this guy gets his face bruised up pretty bad, and he looks at his whore of a wife,
and he says the most inspiring shit I think I have ever heard.
Literally, he says:
“I don’t care if you wake up in a ditch with grown men shitting on you and jumping on top of your head.
Maybe your nose will turn into a big old dick and you can stroke that all the time.
I hope your hair turns into dog shit one day. You wake up and you run your comb through it,
and all that it is, is little trundles of dog shit. The worst shit you could imagine.
And this bruised man pisses on his wedding ring.
I thought about where I was in my life a month ago as I watched this scene take place.
Hold on for a second. I believe I am going to take another drink real quick.
But anyway, I thought about where I was a few months ago, like, in my head.
And I was pretty fucked up, but pretending to not be fucked up. You know?
And then I thought about where I am now in my life, in my head, like right now.
I’m pretty fucking cool.
That lady was a bitch, the dog-shit-hair girl… seriously. The dick-nose girl from my life, that is…
But this new lady I’m hanging out with digs banana milkshakes, and Third Eye Blind, and sometimes she talks about art with me, which is way more than AIDS-girl ever did.
She makes me feel like you feel when you’re on your way to a funeral or something that you really don’t want to go to, but then Queen comes on the radio, and you forget about your life for five minutes, because all you really care about is “Mama mia, mama mia, mama mia let me go.”
tumbleweed has ninety-nine cent margaritas on monday
Seven margaritas for seven dollars.
Which leads me to my next point:
You said “the word,”
which translates to “hotel party.”
because I thought you were
joking at first.
I shouldn’t have followed
those seven with a Tanqueray…
Thanks for helping me drink it.
Also thanks for telling the bartender
that you weren’t of age.
We were out of that joint quick.
But you got a cheap shot glass
out of the deal,
Tequila out of plastic cups
and some fresh rolling papers.
Wu-Tang’s 36 Chambers.
A bag of un-opened Ruffles.
A fridge and a microwave.
The comforter had the hotel emblem
caked all over it,
and eventually, you felt comfortable
enough to show me that underwear
that was always just one room away.
And we crawled under that comforter
… and stuff.
email quoting the outfield
still have a job
was a half hour late
boss was still drunk
(a little) from last night
list of things
in next seven days:
5. your love
"jessy's on a vacation far away,
come around and talk it over
so many things I want to say
you know I like my girls a little bit bolder...
I just want to use your love tonight
I don't want to lose your love tonight"
miss your guts
miss your guts
gin and tonics