Monday, November 14, 2016

From Kissed to Kissed Off

So, here I sit at the computer on the eve of the end of another wasted Only-Day-Off; still slightly hungover, mainly tired (strung out), and really bummed out.

The End:

I ended last night [last Friday night] (once again *sigh*) at the Mark II Lounge (#261). Sipping Old Style and having like the 6th shot of Jameson, I found myself wedged way-to-tightly between the waitress stand brass rail and some annoying "actor" ("I just got done shooting this really cool indie thing in Chicago" and "I have an agent, I don't need to talk to you"). I try and chat up the cute Polish waitress with the Marylin Monroe Mole above her lip, but sense instantly no-chance and decide to shut the fuck up before she tells me to "shut the fuck up." Freddie, the bar back, stops by and says hello and shakes my hand, then scampers off to collect shot glasses and the like, so that lifts my shitty mood a bit. LA Kat jabs me in the back and shouts above the barroom din, "so this is where you hide to escape me" and then turns back to the Heavy Mustachio dude I left her with at My Place (#266) and some young couple she started talking with. Someone flicks me in the back of the ear, I turn to see a huge Mexican Guy trying to order a Corona, and realize LA Kat most likely was the culprit. I knod at the Mexican Guy because we accidently make eye contact then turn back to the bar. Angie waves and says, "Hiya, Mac!" then rushes to the other end of the bar to take orders. I finish my Old Style, get another, glance at the clock 3:30, and try and make eye contact with LA Kat to no avail...this adventure is most likely over. Feeling crushed, I chug the Old Style, squeeze LA Kat on the shoulder, whisper (drunkenly shout) "have a good night," walk home feeling rejected and confused...

And very very very alone in the world.

The Beginning:

Sitting at the Mark II Lounge, maybe a month ago, minding my own business, I look over across the way toward the pool tables and see this pretty woman. She's got long black hair, shorter than me, brown cargo pants that fit relaxed (but show curves) and a tight orange t-shirt. She has her hand on her hip which is cocked a little to the side, and she's just sort of standing there smoking a cigarette and like surveying the scene. Her head pans kind of slowly left and right, observing and soaking in the few people millng around or sitting at tables. I take a mental note to keep an eye on her movements.

If this woman was placed in a large room of other woman or differing looks, styles, races, hair colors etc., my friends would have pointed at her, nudged me in the ribs, and said, "dude, she's totally 'your type.' Go talk to her!"

I continue sipping my beer and trading small talk with Hristo and Freddie. They're nice guys, and they seem to like my company as they usually hang out with me before the midnight hour rush in the bar keeps them busy.

I guess reading this guy's date should make feel better, sort of, maybe? (link shown by Fresh)

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Possibly Back From "Oblivion"

Mastodon: "Oblivion" Live At The Aragon out 3/15

Mastodon | Myspace Music Videos

Cricky. It's like (Yes on Meth + Motorhead on Vicodon) dropped in a vat of LSD.

(hornypervslikeme note lovely breasts around 2:31) = "Call meeeee" heh heh

[Motodd: maybe not alive, but not dead] :-)

Saturday, February 12, 2011

The Prodigal Blogger

I might try to come back here again.
Unstretch my Internet Rubber Band before it snaps.

Thursday, October 30, 2008

Dear 6 Readers

Posting has been delayed here due to the fact notalot has happened.
Posts will follow when something interesting actually happens.

Until then, if you wish, you may browse archives (and feel free to comment) or follow my lame reblogging and lame original posts on my not-yet-blocked-at-work Tumblr.

Thank you.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Sunday, September 21, 2008

So, I see I'll be working until I'm 93, now.

Boy, all this financial trouble sure sounds bad. It's really a good thing I'll only be marginally affected--wait, what is that you say? Goldman Sachs?!?

Shit, you here that screaming whoooshing sound? Yeah, that's the sound of my 401K dropping into an abyss!


Well, let's hope the Sach sacks-up; because, if I have to live much more frugally, I'll be eating dirt and drinking my own pee.