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JWR 2.51 - Obligatory Drunken Rambling

 

So, maybe I should not have driven home.  I promise no spelling corrections, just so you know how drunk I may be.  Maybe I should not have driven hoime.  But thatís okay.  People like Scott say that and then stop and say, I know that Iím shitfaced now but Iíve been wqay drunker when Iíve driven each of you homw before.  Yeah. thanks, ass holse.

 

So I pull up in my garage and see my new lawn mower that I just bought today.  ITís red.  Pretty, even.  The color red has so many connotations.  And Now my refrigeratorís making noises like itís mad at me.  Shuuuush!

 

I jusr bought the lawn mower today.  I had to cut my grass.  Sometimes I truly feel like Iím running out of money.  Itís not a big concern until I have to pay bills.  Then itís a concern, certainly.

 

So now my lawn looks great, like I actually belong in this fucking neighborhood.  Please excuse the language, my drinking from time to time makes me feel like this, and today just sucked alll around.

 

So my freind Nate asks me to add this lady he knows to the Rabmiling list.  I do because, well, I like expanding my consumre base.  Even though I do not sell anything.  I give it away.  Like a dumbbell.  So I add her and she had been the first new person I have added in a loing time.  I actually think the most recent person I have added was a doctor of some kind.  I have no idea, he was also added at the request of a friend.  I imagine him t be a doctor of podiatry.  You know, a foot dr.

 

And to be truthful, at first I thought that adding a new person is such a big deal, then I actually get an email from her saying that sheís loking forward to the debauchary.  Well then.  Sheís a step ahead already.  She knows what to expect.  Good.  Strange, Iíll probably never meet this person.   I know nearly everyone on this list.  There are a couple that I have yet to ayt least lay my eyes upon.  For some reason I felt anxious at first, adding her.  Then I thought about doing a Rambling that explained my freqakish way of being.  (Shiut up refriegrator, Iím doing a rambling.  Some people.)  But I think she gets it.  She sounds like a smart lady.  So no nedd to feel at all uncomfortable about continuing as I would have already with people who know where I stand.

 

Me getting drunk or drunkish or tipsy or whatever you may call it is not too commmon.  Thereís an extra letter in there, I see.  Usually Iíd erase it, but today, I want you to see it.  See, Iím REAL!

 

I bleed and I hurt.  AND I FEEL PAIN!

 

I hurt my hand on my punching bag earlier in the week.  I think it was the too small gloves, because when I bare fisted it, I was okay, except for the pain caused my bare fisting it.  Sometimes you canít win.  But sometimes, you can, and thatís the fucking thing that keeps me going.

 

Iím tired, I says.  But Iíd like to wear off this alcohol a bit before I sleep.  Iíve had a hang over maybe twice.  Usually Iíll stay up until it wears off.  I recall getting fitted for a tux with a bad hangover.  This was the day after I was trapped in the back seat of my friendís car and puked on my one arm as I tried to find the door handle.  I came home and my niece was asleep in my bed (when I still lived at my parentsí) and I slept on the floor of the other spare room and woke up with a pounding headache.  The only comfort was the teenage girls who worked at Gingas.  And althouhg I know that Gingas is spelled wrong, I donít care.  I have not appre-hand-chin about it.  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA./  qwow.

 

The next rambling will be the final one of the second year.  The Epic II will be complete.  Yes, there will be a year III.  Bet yoí ass.

 

Thereís so much I want to say, but I feel like I can say it all in a second.   But I canít.  Well, I could.  I will.  Here.  ( donít think too much on this, okay, I have been drinking.)  I want you.

 

There are no unbeatable odds

There are no believable gods

Each night when the day is throught

I know only this much

I just want you

 

Yeah, shit.  Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.  Sitting up in this fucking house with no sounds other than the refrigeratorís compressor, I feel not alone, biut caged.  (Quiet, fridggy.)

 

Ssssssssssssssh.  Shush.  Well.  Please forgive this shitty Rambling.  Sometimes I find it very difcuult to stick together a coherent piece.  This is why I take unexplained monthsí long vacations.  From time to time.  Then I start again and wonder why I ever stopped int he first place.  I have alot to sat.  I have a lot of nothing to say.

 

And I feel like I deserve a break every now and then.  Like the Simpsons where they do a clip show.  Itís the same principal.  Zach hung up on me today.  I could not hear a word he said as my crazy roommote panged a pot because his hockey team was winning.  Then it went to trip[le OT and finally they won the game.  Then we went out.  And drank more.  Imagine had they lost.  And I now just realixze I ditched Zach anf Lynn.  I feel bad about that.  But I can blame the liquor.  The Southern and and Miller and the Guinness.  Sorry, forgicve me.

 

YOU: forgive me for being too much of... whatever.  I hope you understand that I find you so remarkale.  I do not want to lose you.  Is that  bad thing?  No, says I.  We try to be so careful, but all we shield is ourselves.  BREAK THE WALLS DOWN..

 

Maybe I should not have driven home.  But I am here.  And I ainít going fucking no place.

 

J-to-the-ohn

 

I swaer to God I just killed a spider the was crwaling up the power cord of my computer.  That sure takes me back, huh?  I killed your spiders and all I got was this lousy t-shirt.  Ha, shit., funnay.

 

Copyright © 2002 John Lemut