I Am Awake

Man, I would have posted by now, but I am out of photos because I am in a silent battle with goddamned Flickr. Time to change things up and start hosting my photos some place unassociated with Yahoo! cause I hate those idiot sons of bitches. Anyways, what sort of twit posts 47 photos of themselves dicking around, eating, and hanging out with friends on the daily? Probably someone that has nothing else going on. I stopped being this sort of person and now whenever I have a good idea I waste my time dicking around trying to get someone to pay me to write it. I guess, when I do not get anyone to bite I will start posting these little thoughts here cause why the fuck not?
Today, I put on hot pink lipstick and then talked Colin into going to James Beach (that place with the fish tacos in “I Love You, Man!”) because I am all vexed about getting a project completed. I knew he did not want to go out but I pimped myself out to get what I wanted, since I am not above manipulation in the least. Although, he would not relent and ride bikes there since I fucking ate it big last week while dicking around Marina Del Rey, so we drove. Anyways, the food there is always great and after dinner we walked across the street to The Canal Club because their mid-week happy hour lasts till closing and we had some more drinks, which was mundane and boring and almost the entire time I kept trying to grab his junk while people were looking. Until some dude that has a head the size of an Easter Island fucking statue came in and sat at the bar next to some lady that looked like the bloated drunk chick from Grace Under Fire. Immediately, I realized I knew Easter Island from somewhere so I started to stare at him like my eyeballs could sear through his flesh and come up with the answer. It turns out that if you stare at a man long enough while you are wearing a skin tight dress and hot pink lipstick he’ll try to hit on you from across the bar even though you are grabbing your boyfriend’s dick. Shortly thereafter Grace Under Fire made him leave and I realized I knew him from a different bar where I usually tell him that I have a syphilis related birth defect that makes me incapable of getting drunk. I always tell him this while being too drunk to walk. Welcome to the summer, where more trouble and more writing is imminent.