9-30-00
Having wrestled the sobriety and lost, I have come to the conclusion that many a small town in California and I have fallen victim to the dreaded mudslide.
I decided that if you impart your essence, your deepest darkest secrets, hopes, dreams and desires to someone, you don't look at them entirely as someone to fuck and abandon. I mean, why invest that much time and talk? Feed the loser a line, score, and move on.
I was talking to the best domestic friend of Mr. Wrong tonight, and he asked me if I had heard from Mr. Wrong, because I was a frequent topic of conversation between them. I laughed, and asked what exactly these discussions entailed, since I have yet to hear from him since his untimely disappearance.
Anyways, I was assured by the domestic friend that unless I married and bore the offspring of Mr. Wrong, which is SO unlikely to ever happen, that he knew him so much better than me, which is something I highly am inclined to agree with, and that his opinion of Mr. Wrong was so much more correct than mine. I told him 'whatever' and went about my business of ass-pinching and such*, and then excused myself to return to my beverage of choice**.
Generally speaking, NOTHING came of this conversation, but I did muster up the drunken courage to grope the hiney of a 19-year old bartender, who was asking for it.
Shame on me.
*I'm a notorious ass-grabber and knee-groper, when cute males are present during a prolonged period of inebriation. Or, whatever. Sue me, I'm toasty and feeling fine. I like to touch the cuties and the eye-candy when I'm not-so-sober. They don't seem to mind so much, and I enjoy the fondling goodness.
**That's right, smartypants, the 'mudslide'. And, you're a smart one for noticing. A gold star for you!
