Don't Do Drugs

It's been so long since I spoke of sandwiches. I am ready to face them again.

I cried in the car right after I went to Joann Fabrics to look for something to do with my hands. I saw this lady with her kids and she seemed unhappy too.

It's been three days since I had any booze. 

On Sunday, the first day of this now three-day dry spell, I took a Vicodin at 6 AM. Yeah, I know that means I'm not totally sober, blah, blah. Then I watched the French open. It felt weird to think of Roger Federerererer as the underdog because he used to be so annoyingly unstoppable. I wanted Djokovic to win (spelling?)

Then I went to bed and had a bunch of fucked up dreams. No monsters. Just this computer that kept flashing back on my life. Oh yeah, I do remember the eight grade. That's right, I was lonely.  I do remember high school. I thought I was fat then too. Fuck, thanks narcotics. You don't see that anti-drug ad. The one where you take something and realize you've never liked yourself and the drugs don't change anything.

Then the bathroom fixtures started moving around. I went into the bathroom and the sink was gone. And my dead cat (not a corpse in the dream) had moved it, but he put it back. I went back into the bathroom and the mirror was gone. Then the mirror was by my bed, and that made me want to jerk off (which I know is not the term for it when a lady does it,) but I lost interest.

I finally got out of bed at 3 pm. I walked downtown (seattle) and bought Keith Richard's book. I was pissed because I thought I was going to get a 30 percent discount, and I only got a 20 percent discount.  Fuck you, Borders... please don't leave me.

Then I watched The Hangover 2 and ate... you guessed it, a mother fucking sandwich. Bam!

It was terrible. Il Fornaio. Fuck you. Turkey, that made me burp some type of fish oil. I didn't tip the guy behind the counter, which is probably why he rubbed his ball-pussy all over the bread and wrapped it back up in cellophane before serving it to me.

I went home and stayed awake until 6 AM. I watched five episodes of Glee. I'm now sort of addicted. I should say, I hate musical theater. It makes me crazy for the same reason I hate it when sitcom characters hold up their hands to tell secrets. You can't just walk down the hall singing, or suddenly be outside of someone's window watching them sleep, when you were just in the classroom singing. Also I hate that girls mouth when she sings. It's too round and too open, and I want to choke her.

They have a dorky character who is also in a wheelchair, but somehow he gets to have sex in high school. What the fuck? I was only a little chubby in high school, and no one fucked me.


What was the point? 
Hangover 2: bad.
Il Fornaio: overpriced, rude and bad.
Vicodin: bad.
Booze: I miss you
Glee: A lie... please don't leave me