He was different from you and me

Just got home from my writing class. I’m tired. Class was okay. There’s a mongolidic (is that the word, mongolidic? It sounds better than mongoloidic or mongoloidian. Perhaps mongolidian? Anyway) dipshit in the class who never shuts up and it’s kind of irritating. His speech is like a nervous tic. He can’t stop talking and it’s kind of a drag, but it’s kind of fascinating. Like, you know how sometimes you start to watch a movie, and it’s so just nauseating that there’s nothing about it you’d ever enjoy (Spanglish, perhaps) but for whatever reason, you keep watching? THEN, once you’ve gotten through the whole thing, you’ve kind of been vaccinated against it or something…so next time your friends are all over and you’re all getting high on the couch and you see that Spanglish is on, you make everyone sit through it, and even though it still sucks just as bad, it’s kind of not that bad for you, and all you’re doing is sitting there enjoying how much your friends are hating it/you?
That’s kind of what it’s like when this Henri dipshit talks. Yeah, his name is Henri. That’s pronounced ahn-REE, by the way. He’s such a nerd and a time gobbler that to talk about him here is simply to somehow feed his dark powers, so I’ll keep it brief. Lemme tell you though, dude’s a real sack of crap. Oh, and he’s not funny and his writing stinks. So there’s that.
I’m off to Florida in the morning. It’s gonna be a whirlwind of a trip. We get in tomorrow and the five of us are all staying in a single hotel room in the official hotel of this Festival. SO, that means no space, no sleep, no rest, no voices when we play our show. Also, there’s gonna be roving herds of drunks everywhere. This thing is pretty hilarious. It’s thousands of bearded punks from all over the world converging on a small college town in Florida to drink all its pabst, eat all its pizza and sleep in every last bit of its shrubbery.
I’m already so sore and tired and I’m still home. Fuck.
I’m missing my baby’s first Halloween. This is a HUGE bummer for me. He’s going as a tiger, and his grandma is accompanying him on his daycare’s Halloween parade. The whole thing sounds so cute that it makes me want to barf. I honestly don’t think I would have booked these shows if I had realized that I was missing this. That being said, it’s nice to get away for a while, and I’m looking forward to seeing some friends, acquaintances, frenimies (are you listening Heidi?) and of course douchebag punishers and assorted fools. This afternoon, (Oh, I went to bed, and I’m finishing this in the morning) I’ll be spending some time in the Atlanta airport. That’s usually a good time. They’ve got the best strip club of any airport. I love it when they touch the ground.
The best part about this whole thing, and I’m not even kidding when I say this, is that I don’t have to go to my crappy job. The idea that I’m not punching in this morning, and that I won’t have to ask anyone what kind of cheese they want on that or if they want a lemon or a lime or “did you say Ciroc or Syrah?” just makes my day. AND I don’t work tomorrow, or Sunday. Nope, instead, I’ll be sitting on the other side of the bar. Or, who knows, maybe I’ll take in Gainesville’s local culture instead…hmmm.
A few years ago I was in Gainesville and some buddies and I all decided to get tattoos of drunk pelicans hanging themselves. When I went to the ATM to pay dude (uh…Polish Dave, I believe, and he’s great if you’re looking for some tattoos in north central florida [god, what if that’s not his name…eh, whatever]) I had 22 bucks in there. This would have been fine if I wasn’t you know, a grown man with a finished tattoo already on me that cost well above 22 bucks. Fuck, the tip should have been 22 bucks. Okay, so anyway, long story short, cuz I gotta go to the airport, I sucked his dick and it was all cool. Strangely, my friend Jason, who also has the tattoo, had money, but opted to pay for it with a blowjob too. What’s that say?
Okay turds! See you Monday. Pray for my soul.