…like weirdly so.
But it’s the good tingly weirdly.
Not the gangrene tinglies. Those are bad.
And every time I feel like this, things generally go my way. Or seem really good from the inside while contemplating the view from the outside looking in. I’m sure there’s a word for that.
This 77 degree January morning I drove to a meeting to get a job as a script doctor. On the drive there, smelling the palm treed air through my sun roof I snacked on Almonds and fresh squeezed juice for miles down the PCH. –Wind snagging my dreads I realized that for the next 2 months I only have 2 and half weeks off. It’s like a real career!
And I got some head knocking to do still.
Work related head-knocking where I get all business assertive and negotiate demands based on a fair assessment of each other’s best interests. Not the one that other one where I use my ankles for leverage and sometimes end up with someone farting in my face–getting farted on during a blow job is the modern day equivalent of bringing a man to his knees.
Then later tonight I was getting some work done (not procrastinating, case in point: I’m blogging) and I got hungry. I threw on a trench coat and some under… shorts? They’re not underwear but calling them shorts would be an over statement. I think high school girls wear them at Volleyball practice or something… ya know or something.
The 7/11 guy gave me double the food that I ordered and only charged me half the amount. That’s right folks, I rocked a 1:3 average on free taquitos and burger dogs. I then gave my change to guy begging out front of the store. It just seemed proper.
Maybe it was his industrial gas mask.
THEN! On my way home I ran into my neighbor who wouldn’t take no for an answer when offering to smoke me up. So there I am sitting in an apartment with three men who I later deduced were gay. (LA threw off my gaydar so bad… I’m like a drunken elephant in a mine field guessing who’s “Irish by birth but Greek by Injection” if you will.) The guy gets up, all stoned and sloth-like, to open the patio door but he first has to unlock it. Meanwhile I get all PTSD because I thought he was eerily locking it and THUS ME INSIDE with 3 DUDES! (Those are terror caps, not excitement caps… I fuck with fonts on a later date.) Remember, I’m wearing a only trench coat and matching booty shorts. If there was an ever an outfit that was asking for it, I was in it… and fully aware that I wasn’t dressed to press charges.
They turned out to be cool. I had fun but didn’t have time to stay. Sadzillaroovian.
But then I enjoyed my roller foods.
Those of you who have sex with me know how my I like fresh roller food because I make you buy them for me when I come down… and the whole time I talk about how much I love them.
And chain smoke.
My nights of cylindrical objects.
I also learned that facebook’s chat interface isn’t set up very well for sexting. Stories for later, I’m sure we’ve all made that mistake before anyway.
Although I still feel compelled to say: Sorry Uncle Rob.
