My Lovelife – An Update

Sorry for not being in touch for a while. I had a little accident.

The drunk babe I picked up that night turned out to be less of a babe and more of a cougar, but like a cougar that’s been in many battles and has lots of scars and fucked up fur and a belly that sort of flaps way down because it’s lost weight and gained it back because of all the bad relationships it’s had with scumbag tigers who ditched it in the trench and went to get a beer with prettier cougars. So, less like Jenna Jameson, and more like Lily Tomlin with a shitty attitude or something.

When drunk she looks like this

When sober she transforms into this

When I woke up that noon I was like, Jesus, shit on my face and make me  sing hymns, what was I thinking? And I sort of tiptoed around her for a while kinda hoping she would never wake up or politely implode and vanish, briefly considered vacating and finding a new crib, but finally faced the music and sort of pushed her gently with my foot to wake her up. And she was all, jesus, did we fuck? And the image was sort of disturbing but I said yeah, and she was like, shit, that’s gross. Which I found sort of offensive. I mean, I’m no Brad Pitt or nothin’, but I’m no Paul Giamatti either. But I tried to stay polite and cool and said, sorry, why don’t you just cover those abominations of yours and go home and we’ll both go Memento on this freak accident, but she got all red in her face because I think she could read between the lines that I found her slightly unattractive and disgusting, and she was all, show some respect you little fuck, I could be your mother, which I happen to know is not true because my mom is way hotter than her, but I still kept it nice and mellow and said, I’m sorry ma’am, I understand you find this situation upsetting, if probably somewhat familiar, but we can make it all go away like the civilized adults one of us clearly is, and then she went bananas and started throwing pillows at me, and said you little dipshit, gimme a twenty for a cab, I’m outta here, and I said dude, if I had a twenty for a cab I’d probably  have like my own cab, why don’t you walk, I think you need it, and then the alarm clock was flying at me and a not so healthy looking cat that must have wandered in at night looking for a quiet place to die, and then a slice of pizza that was left on the floor, probably from the previous tenant ’cause it was hard as a motherfucker and it hit me straight in the eye and the pain was so intense I could barely hear the bitch laughing her way out.

So, since I don’t have insurance (’cause if I could afford insurance I’d have like my own private doctor), I stumbled to a friend who’s learned first aid as part of community service, and he treated my eye with some iodine and bandages but it got infected anyway, either because of the cat or the stale pepperoni, and I had to go back to the same friend so he’d steal some antibiotics and pain killers for me, which seemed to do the trick, but it took me a while to recuperate and that’s why I haven’t written.

Anyway it was a hell of a thnaksgiving, what with one eye and heavy on morphine with my sidfunctional family, but I’ll talk about that one next time.

Cheers.

P.S. Despite the horroible pain and suffering I could see the humor in the whole pizza incident, and I wish I could show you pictures of my face with the pizza, ’cause it was kinda early-Peter-Jackson-Sam-Raimi  cool, but my digital camera is busted.