theres a super hot girl snoozing in my bed

i hope she can snooze for at least 20 minutes cuz i really want to write and not be disturbed. every day i get disturbed in the morning when i write either by work calling to ask me to come in early, or the phone, or the pager, or the front door being knocked.

i really wonder what this blog would look like if i could do it every morning from a hotel room with the phone turned off and the shhhh sign dangling from the front door.

shes cute though, so let her wake up if she wants.

im living the american dream up in here. its not yet kickoff, ive got every football game ready to entertain me, ive got eggs and bacon chillin for when she wakes, she brought over a friend last night who recommended that everyone smokes weed until tommy chong is released from prison and subsequently gave me my first bong and a huge sack of stinky green, im wondering if its somehow a sin to try them out on the sabbath.

im so not a druggie, but i was raised to be a grateful receiver of gifts and i must remind myself to ask my snoozing girl for her friend’s address so i can send a thank-you card tomorrow morning for if my mother ever discovered that i hadnt sent one she wouldnt be at all pleased, regardless of what the gift was.

im worrying about old splinky. girlfriend, is it really that bad?

you ever want to be friends with people because its so obvious that they have all the wrong friends?

i felt that way and still feel that way about mike tyson and michael jackson and even oj. i think if they all just had one friend who woulda said, yo, king of pop, get those fucking kids OUT of here, dog.

if i was iron mike’s friend i would just say, today i will hold the bag, just hit it. dont think about anything else. think about tetris. heres ac/dc’s for those about to rock, we’re going to put on side one and just hit until its time to flip the record over. yes, when i train pro boxers i use record players. cd players are for champs. mike is an ex-champ.

and if i was ojs friend i would tell him he could only date black girls, and he cant talk to the press. ever again. and if anyone ever talked about his dead wife all he could say is, “im going to get the mother fucker who killed her.”

im not so sure what id do if i was splinks friend. probably travel a lot. probably write about all the places there are in the world. probably tell her easy on the vinegar. probably tell her that people like how she writes and she probably shouldnt be so self destructive cuz thats been done in more creative ways, which isnt a dare, its rock history.

self image issues in my life have usually been cured by being around people who look at me and get hot.

snoozing girl makes me feel sexy and manly and my gut turns her on, as do my balding spots.

the devil inside me says, shes obviously insane, and then tries to remind me about the thrill of the chase, and then tries to tell me that shes not the right sign to even be friends with, and then tries to tell me that if i was so damn sexy and manly my phone would be ringing off the hook.

and then i remind him that my phone does ring off the damn hook and i wonder if i could give this sparkling new bong and bag to a worthy charity. surely theres an aids hospice who would benefit more from this medicine than i.

i dont know what sort of friend i would be to an aids patient.

i had a friend who not very long ago told me how deep down very depressed she was and my deflector shields for negativity are so sensitive that i didnt believe her and i laughed it off. and i hadnt talked to her in a long time and the other day she called me and we talked and she said thanks for what you said when i was low and i said when were you low and she said dude i was looking into checking out

and i said when

and she said dude you told me that if i did it then you would do it and that your doomed soul would haunt mine for eternity.

i said, i said that?

she said, yes, memento boy, and since i knew that you believed that you cannot go to heaven after suiciding then i didnt because i believed you that you would.

and then she said thank you.

and i think sometimes it would be good if i could remember these things as clearly as others did because i think that that experience could help me in my day to day life.

i hear a girl making the hardwood floors crackle upstairs.

i think i should put some bacon on.

aaron’s baseball blog + you exist here + beets werkin

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