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Weekend +1 In Review

2004-02-23_xx_4:21 p.m.


Normally fits of extreme depression provide me motivation to pen great works of pissed off angst. The outlet that I chose and pattern that I fell back into over the weekend started a day early and has once again left me spent and broken come Monday morning. The oppressive cloud clover and lack of a blazing sun to lift my spirits has been compounded with frigid rain; cold and wet are two things that I despise having with my combo meal deal. Monday comes again and with it my inspiration and yes, the rain always helps.

While I have been mired down in a moody nature and my spiteful outlook has bubbled out to a noticeable change in my outward demeanor, several out of place things do stick out in my mind. Music, for starters, has been a pre-dominant influence.

The �X� has burned me several mixed cd�s (her new hobby) and her proficiency in such matters of computer knowledge has quickly outpaced my own. She is even going to make covers for the cd�s all of which will incorporate the infamous �cleavage� dress (and ensuing photo) that she purchased and begun wearing after our tenure had come to an end. My selfish and slightly perverse nature dictates that showing off the �X�s� chest is just another ploy to uphold my now infamous reputation. The rest of the musical montage from this week: I�ve been using the violin recital obtained from a randomly located diary attached to my favorites list to help combat my insomnia with mixed results. The soothing nature is a far cry from my normally tightly controlled collection of guitar driven rock. I am left with a void as to where in my desert oasis I can find a connoisseur of such music in order to appropriately reproduce the downloaded bedtime lullabies that compromise my non-existent collection. Finally, I am struggling to properly identify the ethnic Brazilian music I was exposed to this weekend. After dancing far late into the night, I woke up Sunday morning with whistles, drumlines and Carnivale masks invading my dreamscape, more on this later.

Recap:

THURSDAY

It took a full 48hours to piece together everything that happened this night. 25 cent Red Stripes (HOORAY BEER!) at yet another drinking den in the heart of college town. This particular journey into inebriation has left me pondering into changing my cellular device to one that takes pictures. And yes, friend and foe alike have advised that the quality of the pictures from these devices leave a lot to be desired, but my central focus for utilizing this feature is to have a face to put to the random phone numbers that keep showing up in alarmingly increasing frequency in my current cellular device without my recollection as to how they got there. Simplified? When I get drunk and pickup chicks it would be nice to have a technological device that helps me remember whom they are.

GIRL #1 � In massage therapy school and I apparently volunteered to help her practice her �homework� (free massages, thank you very much). She (according to eye witness accounts) has a wonderful personality and breasts the size of bowling balls. Will probably call her. GIRL #2 � Was with a group of guy friends that got kicked out and she sat talking to me pretending that she didn�t know them so she could finish drinking her pitcher. Because of my gainful assistance in this matter she continued talking to me for quite some time. She (again, according to eyewitness accounts) was decently attractive and rewarded my assistance in not getting kicked out by sharing her pitcher of beer and made me do math to guess her age, which I was not able to do. Remember nothing about her, talking to her, picking up on her or how I managed to type her number into my phone. The single detail I recall is her instance that I identify myself when calling as �Martin from Mill.� Probably won�t call her.

The problem with both cases is that the eyewitnesses in question themselves ended up in precarious predicaments that make me seriously doubt the accuracy of their statements. My sister ended up passed out in the kitchen with a pot of potatoes next to her head and this kodak moment was captured by my roomie when he found her sprawled out sometime around 2 in the morning. My other source of information is my good friend Curt. He ended up bonding with a woman from out of state whose number or email address he never procured and slept all of 3 hours so sleep depravation makes him suspect as well.

FRIDAY

Impressed co-workers that I never hang out with socially, with my ability to attract very hot women to my side by sheer will power. Found out that one of said co-workers is a slobbering pervert and most likely is Howard Sterns long lost cousin or something. Kept stating to me that every chick I talked to he would, �ram his half-jewish two inch dick into her if he wasn�t married.� As you can imagine, this lost its magic and humor after about a half an hour. Was part of the Guinness toast and wasted the rest of the evening waiting for my sister�s super hot, super smart friend I met on Valentines day to make appearance. When she did, it turned out she barely recalled me, didn�t laugh at any of my jokes, missed all of the references to what we discussed the previous week and turned out to be a super bitch to top it all off. I shied away from a number of Guinness toting women while waiting for this one to show and also was not a happy camper for being dogged out like some lovesick stroke. I very rarely lose my temper, my pension for logic and thinking things through before reacting makes outbursts of anger induced violence an occurrence rarer than a total eclipse of the sun. My roommate drove us home and threatened to dump me in the trunk of my own car if I didn�t quit trying to start a confrontation with everyone that crossed our paths. When I finally did arrive home I assaulted my car and she totally kicked my ass. Woke up Sunday morning with a broken left little toe and shamefully mumbled apologies to roommate for outburst. He outweighs me by close to 150lbs and admitted that this is the first time I have ever truly frightened him. After such a statement from him I vowed never to get my hopes up over any woman ever again. Had frank and honest discussion with my sister advising her that all of my friends were oddballs, outcasts, freaks and generally nice guys and for her to stay away from them because they were all pretty much like me; told her all of her friends were a lot like her and she took being called a crazy bitch as a compliment. I love my family.

Saturday is another story in and of itself, to be recanted at a later time. Most of saturday, as well as all of sunday, were spent in a slump of despair that involved the fixing of our high-speed internet service and the playing of a ton of online video games. It seems when I become woefully down in the dumps is the only time I tend to enjoy playing video games nowadays. An odd revelation for someone whom is a product of the Atari and original Nintendo/Sega gaming systems. The accumulation of my uber depressive weekend was begging narcotics off of my �X� and clothes/bedroom shopping for two and a half hours at the newest symbol of consumerism; Kohl�s. While wonderfully stoned and busting our munch on In �n Out burgers, we both found ourselves face to face passing within inches of each other in her kitchen. Laughing like doped up teens, we playfully smacked each other with whatever kitchen implements were on hand. When I finally managed to disarm her, I caught myself leaning in to place a kiss upon her lips; the sort of playful affection I have always displayed with all my significant others. I don�t know how to properly explain how out of place this felt and how wonderfully awkward this moment was. But it surely didn�t do much to help my disposition and feelings of longing and loneliness, nor has the lack of response for any of the internet dating sites I filled out some weeks ago helped me much either.

My normal shallowness finally got put on the backburner and I actually decided that I could and will sleep with someone that I am not attracted to physically and only mentally. This, however, is not a sign of the Apocalypse; nor have I decided to turn over a new leaf. I will continue to steadfastly refuse and rebuff any attempts to be a good Christian man and see people for their inner beauty. I will not fall madly in love with someone with a face only her mother could love. I am a realist and I am very much aware that looks matter regardless of how right or wrong this philosophy will be. There are always exceptions to every rule, my exception is a co-worker that I have known for a number of years that I have grown very fond of. She is much older than I and today was her first day back and work in nearly a year. She can�t say for sure how long she will be back and nearly broke into tears when we discussed the possibility of me railing her six ways from Sunday.

You see, dearest of diaries, my friend is just starting her third chemotherapy session in less than two years time. I have been avoiding her for a full month since she advised everyone, because I know what this means. When she tracked me down today, I apologized immediately for not contacting her sooner and simply laid it out. I was a little more off target that I originally thought, but the prognosis is the same; Type 4 cancer. It hasn�t spread to any major organs, but even with treatment, some of it bordering on experimental, her chances for living another year is nearing single digits in the percentage department. The support that she has come to expect from me is not the offering of useless prayers or kind words of encouragement that have little meaning. No sirree bob, what she wants from me are numerous jokes and to hear my stories. To bask in my presence, get lost in my eyes and flirt like a son of a bitch. The one thing I did promise her is that if she finally is classified as terminal, that I would make sure she was able to make sweet love with someone she was emotionally and physically attached to. Seeing as how I am really the only in her life that fits the bill and how we have discussed in length how much she misses physically intimacy, I offered her the only suitable dying wish I could possibly grant her; my penis.

If you don�t think this is a huge thing to offer up to someone, then I pity you and your repressed, republican, church attending souls. Look at it this way; would you be able to be intimate with someone whose body is full of cancer, wasting away, physically deformed from said cancers and is waiting to die? Look ma, I really do have a heart.

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