books, bitemarks, and that moment when you realize your roommate is a socialist.

I was bitten last night.  Through two layers of clothing, one of those layers being the sleeve of my awesome leather bomber jacket.

Nothing prompted this attack.  I was just standing there minding my own business*, when a pair of chompers bit down on my forearm.  A bruise came up immediately.  Yes, I took off my awesome leather bomber jacket to make sure that I wasn’t bleeding.  It hurt THAT bloody bad.  I was not bleeding, and therefore probably can’t press charges.

This morning,  however, I awoke to find that the bruise is more of a pinkish color and is a nice oval shape on my forearm, not unlike ringworm.  At least I think that’s how ringworm looks and I am not about to Google image that shit to confirm.  Doing Google image searches of medical things always ends up with me wanting to throw up and take a Lysol bath.

And I guess I should  tell you who bit me.  If you think it was Bitch Cat (the pet name I use for Brian’s cat, Fenix, who I did not kiss the other night; that was all him; Brian is a liar and a Socialist), you would be wrong.  I mean, yes, that little bastard did bite me yesterday.  And I’m pretty sure he learned it from his owner because it was definitely Brian that bit the living hell out of my arm last night.  Then, when we got back to the apartment, he threw a rug over my head and stole books that I had packed up to donate to Goodwill.  So, essentially, he robbed Goodwill. Drunk. At 2:30 in the morning.

I was not amused by these developments.

Then, to make up for all this ruckus he caused and blood he had almost drawn, he read The Giving Tree to me as a bedtime story.  And  then stole the book for his own library.

*That may not be true.  I might have been freaking Brian out by talking about feet on his face, but I was the only one around sober enough to properly remember the events that unfolded last night.  Suck it, alcoholics.

- Crystal

Life Brew

It would appear as though the week drones on, mindlessly pushing one long day into another.  The process is then repeated until you suddenly realize that you don’t know what day of the week it is or how long it’s been Monday.  The only consolation you get is when that sudden realization that it’s Friday kicks in.  This last all of thirty seconds until a gracious co-worker reminds you that it is indeed not Friday, but rather Thursday.  Welcome to Big Kid Land!  Damn those advertisements were deceiving.

This has been my routine for the past few weeks, and I’m not really sure I like it at all.  It has become such that Tuesday night drinking has become a regular occurrence.  Before you judge I think you should have all of the facts.  First, my job can be stressful as Hell.  I’ve never actually been to Hell, but I’ve seen how it stresses some people out way too much here on Earth so I assumed it was a safe comparison.  Second, my job has some sort of complicated financial formula where they make sure you get paid just enough to stay below the poverty line.  I don’t even try to understand it, as math was never my best subject, but I do understand banks saying you have no money.  Last week I managed to get my checking account down to nine cents.  That takes talent.  And lastly, although in this case most importantly, Tiballs (a local bar) has a $7 all you can drink special.  Even I can see the cost efficiency of being an alcoholic on a Tuesday.  I mean if I drank the same amount of orange juice as I did alcohol on a Tuesday night, my costs would astronomically increase.  BUT, to be even more cost efficient, you get Tequila Sunrises.  Orange juice and Tequila!  What a deal!  Best of both worlds for one flat rate.  Ok, now you are free to judge if you are still inclined to do so as opposed to joining me at the bar.

The bar is a very interesting place.  You see a lot of different kinds of people, and most people would consider it a chance to work on their game.  I find this very amusing to watch as I myself have negative game.  It’s odd though.  I do believe that sometimes having game below zero works just as well as having game, but what do I know?  I’ve already told you I am no good at math, and here I am talking about the absolute value of  “x”  if  “x=game”.  Perhaps there isn’t an exact formula to picking people up at the bars…but really who are we trying to kid?

Speaking of game.  Fenix, my cat, has learned to spit some mad game, no pun intended as you will soon find.  Just the other night, I was laying in my bed minding my own business when across the hall I hear “Oh my God!”  Apparently Crystal and my cat french kissed each other.  I thought there were laws against that sort of thing, but who am I to say what’s right.  The heart wants what the heart wants I guess.  It just makes me feel odd when I walk into the living and see them sitting together now.  She swears he kissed her and that she never kissed him back.  I’m sure she’ll share her side of the story at some point.

I leave you with this.

“The whole world is about three drinks behind.”

-Brian

The Death of Indecent Exposure…

or at least while walking around the apartment.  Well okay, at least while walking around the apartment while Crystal is here.  Ok fine, but I swear I don’t do it if she’s conscious…unless I’m really drunk and sleeping in my closet (a story for another time).  My how life changes when you move in with a girl-woman.  Until now, I had never lived with only a female, unless you count when I lived with my mom…but that’s different.  It’s kind of like being a naughty Pinnochio, having all kinds of fun with your wood…en nose, and then you meet that little cricket.  Sure it’s cute, but then it tells you about ghonasyphaherpilydis and being a real boy doesn’t seem so appealing anymore.   Just kidding, a little.  Really not a whole lot has changed, except for the whole nudity in the house thing…and I have fewer overnight guests than normal.  Nothing against Crystal, but the walk of shame feels like it’s being made in front of my mother. Now I’m not saying that she is anything like my mother, but they both have a vagina so I compare them.  With that being said, expect a lot of interesting stories to come.  I promise to hold nothing back, consider that your warning.

-Brian