Friday, February 25, 2005
Today is my wife's birthday. I am so bad at this sort of thing. I tried, i made a plan to get a bunch of her chick friends together and go to the Hustler Club or to the Mitchell Brother's Theatre in San Fran, should have been a hoot, getting lap dances and shit while hanging out with my Maritza's little rockabilly friends. Alas, i lost my ID card and can't get one in time to be able to have some fake looking skeezer rub against my nards, for cash. Dude, i am lame. So now it's the day and i ruined it and i can't think of anything else to do that'd be fun. I suck as a party planner.
Aside from that, nothing cool, well i watched this blonde girl upstairs smell her hair for five minutes straight. I wonder what it smelled like. I wonder if she would have given me a wiff if i'd asked nicely. I wonder if it smelled good or if it was totally rank. I'd have to lean toward rank even though there is a chance that she was suprised at how nice it was and just couldn't stop taking it in. Doubtful but maybe. It prolly smelled like cigarettes cause she was out last night at a goofy frat style kegger and wound up in the back seat of a VW bug with a rasta who smoked way more roll your own cigarettes then he does ganja, cause he's a poser.
His dreads where attached to his hat. If i'd been there i might have warned her but i think deep down that she knew and just didn't care cause she hasn't smoked any grass since she broke up with her boyfriend six weeks ago. He supplied her and her buddys with herb and since the breakup was so bad she can't call him to kick the ball through the net for her and hence.. dry spell, fake ass rastas and cigarette hair..
Happy birthday, Maritza. I just today realized that the day of the Mitchell Bros. rendezvous had come and gone...but the strippers are still there, maybe you can go after the fact.
Maybe obsessive hair-smelling has a special name, a special disorfer. Follicleipsoitis. Maybe she is thinking about going to a support group, but won't. Maybe her hair comes off with her hat, too.
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Aside from that, nothing cool, well i watched this blonde girl upstairs smell her hair for five minutes straight. I wonder what it smelled like. I wonder if she would have given me a wiff if i'd asked nicely. I wonder if it smelled good or if it was totally rank. I'd have to lean toward rank even though there is a chance that she was suprised at how nice it was and just couldn't stop taking it in. Doubtful but maybe. It prolly smelled like cigarettes cause she was out last night at a goofy frat style kegger and wound up in the back seat of a VW bug with a rasta who smoked way more roll your own cigarettes then he does ganja, cause he's a poser.
His dreads where attached to his hat. If i'd been there i might have warned her but i think deep down that she knew and just didn't care cause she hasn't smoked any grass since she broke up with her boyfriend six weeks ago. He supplied her and her buddys with herb and since the breakup was so bad she can't call him to kick the ball through the net for her and hence.. dry spell, fake ass rastas and cigarette hair..
Happy birthday, Maritza. I just today realized that the day of the Mitchell Bros. rendezvous had come and gone...but the strippers are still there, maybe you can go after the fact.
Maybe obsessive hair-smelling has a special name, a special disorfer. Follicleipsoitis. Maybe she is thinking about going to a support group, but won't. Maybe her hair comes off with her hat, too.
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