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9:35 p.m. - 2006-09-04
Ow.

OW.

The weekend just got weirder and weirder. After the Six b-day party, I went out with Sully, Tod and Trout (their somewhat newly divorced, very hot, but very demented friend) and met up with Dee to run around The City looking for a good time since none of us had to work today. We had a great time, but as always, there were highlights.

First, I ran two large bald men out of a bar, because after they came on to me and were so damned sweet, I brought over my friend Deb to meet them and they were super bitchy to her. I got so mad, I marched back over to them, told them to fuck off and go suck eachother's dicks. And so they did. But, I have to qualify this by stating that I have no actual memory of these events, but have heard so many accounts of it that I have to believe its true.

Then I skipped up a hill with Tod, hand in hand, singing God knows what in the middle of the street. Then we rode back home and talked about toe sucking, and I was half way passed out, when I realized that my own toes were being sucked by none other than Tod himself, and his hand was going places it didn't belong and I may have told him to go put his dick up his ass, but I'm not sure. But really, taking advantage of a drunk girl. For shame...

He's such a slut. I swear to God, he's knoodled with the majority of my female friends by now and not one of them has reported an actual "doing" of "IT". But he does love his forplay. But once a man has used your friends as a buffet its kinda grody to go there with him again, plus, he's just not attractive to me anymore. He's sort of square, and well, square. You'd have to meet him to know what I mean. And his incessant whining gets on my nerves. So a fuck off he got too.

I woke up in the morning to find that I had spent the night with a man with skulls all over his house, and a tatoo of his great grandmother from New Orleans with fangs on his right shoulder, and an angel in a graveyard on the other.

This man being Trout. Not some stranger off the street, so its OK. And I'm very impressed with his level of cleanliness and his ability to decorate his space. Except for the plethora of creepy skulls of course. He was kind of sweet though. When it appeared to all that I was on my way to passed out, he changed the music from Megadeath to Celtic relaxation music to lull me to a peaceful sleep. But do you know how weird it is to wake up in the AM horribly hung over with your feet in a man's arms and a skull in your's? Then to look over your shoulder and see a trout face as hung over as yours and try not to scream bloody murder and wake the house?

May I just say that I am SO FUCKING HUNG OVER?

Ouch. Yelling hurts.

So, a good time was had by all, and that's what's really important.

 

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