BACKGROUND: American Beauty
I really could go for a few hours of fucking sleep, though, sleep of which I was deprived of last night from excessive partying which I might add was well worth me being a living zombie today at work. I was going to take Bobbie, work Bobbie, to the Maple Room and flirt a bit and sing a bit and drink a bit (still sober, I might add) but I ended up going there with my brother and another frighteningly attractive young woman from work.
Never expected what happened to happen, I mean, what with me being a nice, kind, quiet guy instead of the annoying a-hole who gets all the women. But at a time when my fragile male ego needs all the boosts that it can get last night was just what I needed. I won't get into any details because they're a bit too personal - I mean, shit, I'll tell you every goddamm thing about every aspect of my life but things that deal with being physical are going too far, even for a man as open as me, so I'll be tight-lipped about tonight here.
I will say that a good time was had by all last night.
And on the war front, more strange b.s. is going on with the lovebirds (Col and the infamous Big HIM). Yesterday was a Kings game, which, to everyone with white skin, is akin to some sort of white trash Christmas over here in Sacramento. And that usually means, having been a close, personal friend of the lovebirds for almost a year now, means that they were probably drinking frightening amounts of alcahol and yelling at the television set.
And usually what happens when the lovebirds are done drinking and yelling is that they head on down to the bar. And I got two phone calls yesterday, one from the Big HIM's brother and one from Brother HIM's girlfriend, under the ruse of asking me how I am, checking up on me, with the question hey, are you going to the bar tonight always hidden in there somewhere, obviously calling me asking that on behest of a certain someone and a certain someone else.
A part of me should probably be angry and hurt and offended and pissed off and confused by that, by all this strange bullshit flying around my head from them, from the lovebirds and from getting my heart broken and from being suddenly shut out of the life of a woman that I really wanted to be with. But, and I would once again like to reiterate that I have no idea why I am the way that I seem to be recently, I seem to be mellow, in tune, relaxed, with only a slight pinch of sadness and the bizarre antics of the lovebirds are nothing more than the buzzing of a fly by my ear.
I'm sick of being a victim in my own life. I'm sick of trying too hard to be accepted. I'm sick of having my heart broken over and over by the same person. I'm sick of playing games, too. I just want to be myself and do my own things and write my own musings and just see what happens.
Going out tonight, come Hell or high water.