January 30, 1999 |
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You would LOVE Jasmine. She is the fucking coolest chick. You know how I ask people shit just to see what their reaction is? I didn't really WANT to throw things at Barron's apartment window. But when I brought it up, I just figured she would suggest something more tame. Hey, we could throw the beer bottles I got in my car... Woe. I had to talk her out of doing this for real. I just thought getting nailed by the cops would put a damper on ourfriendship, you know? But we had fun. I had such fun new situations arise that my hetero side would've never gotten to see. Jasmine and I together were hot last night Friday. To say the least. Let me flash this situation into your mind's eye: Jasmine was emailing me at work Friday morning. She was having problem explaining me to her live in boyfriend Blade. You know, Blade. She reminds me. He was the cute guy you kissed at the Fenix the night you met me. The one with the side burns? Now, keep in mind that night was truly cherob miracles. I kissed and kissed people I didn't even like much. I got a list somewhere on another email recalling all the individuals I kissed that night alone. I think it was like 5 guys and Jasmine. One night man. ONE. I am fucking LUCKY sometimes. Anyway, boyfriend Blade was getting a bit jealous of me, so Jasmine sends me an email to work withdrawing her acceptance to our date that night. But you see? I never got the email. I didn't show up at work Friday morning at all. She waited for my response to her bailing on me. Waited some more. When I didn't email her back, she reinstated the date. Time having healed any of her inhibitions that was stopping the date from happening. I must take off on a little tangent here. It explains why I didn't show for work Friday morning. Thursday night my good friends T, Jovan and I got totally hammered and sang kereoke at a Queen Ann mexican restaurant. I had fun margarita whipping a Patsy Kline song. Sang duet with the mexican princess who happened to be the daughter of the restaurant owner. (Yes. She was lovely, in case you want to know my sexual description of the little lady.) Man. I watched her savor the fitting Madonna song La Isla Bonita. Oh yeah. The mexican princess was in good light that night. So the kereoke DJ chose Girl's Just Wanna Have Fun for us to duet together. The princess and I. But she didn't know the song, so. Fucked as I was, I did my Sid Vicious impression of the Cindy Lauper song. No one clapped. There was a lot of confused looks, but fuck was I ready to bow before the porceline goddess the next morning. Couldn't puke. No. Not me. So I took a long hot bath. It was near 11 o'clock by the time my stomach allowed my first phone call. This would be 11 am Friday morning now. I said to the art lead at Cavedog, Grover? My car is dead. He thought I was calling from a wayside payphone on a highway somewhere and was all set to pick me up. No, it's not like that I says. I am at home. And god that sounded like a highschool excuse. Right up there with "my dog ate it". I am surprised Grover didn't react to my dead car story like I had just told him my dog ate it. But the fact remained that my car was, in very real terms, dead as a doornail. I was a drunken fuck driving after Kereoke last night. I know of 2 stop signs I blatantly missed. Just because I wanted to see if I had the balls enough to keep calm while running the intersection. Got a box stuck under my car. Had to drive backwards to see what the hell I hit. I wasn't even scared of the thought the brown mass in the midroad might have been a corpse. The sound of smacking cardboard was more hollow than hitting flesh, so I worried not when I backed up to see the twisted paper hide. Anyway, that night I managed to get airborn with the Scarlet Pimp (my Geo's new name). Upon landing, all the warning lights splashed an eerie red over my entire dashboard and the break was stiff. I never panicked. Umm. Not good. Put the emergency break on and rolled the Scarlet Pimp as far as the hill allowed. I sat there blocking the road cockeyed, restarting the car, restarting fine. Restarting fine again. But I couldn't get the clutch to work. I had ridden the Scarlet Pimp to death. It was about 30 degrees at 3 in the morning. The peewee hours of Friday morning. I was sloshed with 2 shots of vodka, all my driving pot, 2 margaritas. The night was brewing one hell of a sideshow storm. Winds slapped me all rainswept and furious. And what was I doing in all that shit? I had my hands powerpushing the crotch of my driver's side door, wheeling a red Geo to it's final resting place. There I left him, The Scarlet Pimp. He gave me his all. Even went and died only a block from my apartment. So, by the next morning, I had a rancid tuna in my vomit reflex. I was barely surviving on only 2 and a half hours of sleep. Outside, my only ride to work was dead. The morning wind still sounded like the second coming of Christ, so I called Grover the art lead to ditch work. I hate disappointing my job. It feels like you're admitting your failure to perform your professional duties. No worries though. The office was officially closed anyway, Grover told me. Turned out that the storm knocked the electricity out there sometime in the night. The office was closed until the lights could be restored again. All my guilt about staying home that Friday was suddenly lifted. The mechanic was confused when my car was in perfect condition. I couldn't explain it either. He didn't even bother to charge me the 15 bucks for the house call. I got my bearings and went shopping. As far I was concerned, there was no problem with Jasmine's boyfriend Blade. I still had a hot date with Jasmine that night at 9. And I wanted to look nice for her. Might as well go to the same mall that I met Priest. Maybe I would run into him, and I could make him wear a little red string around his finger. I wouldn't tell him why. And Jasmine was gonna like the slick professional suit I bought for her at the mall. Everyone liked my display at the 6 Arms bar that night. I got a lot of looks when I walked my tiny skirted hiney up the winding bar stairs to the second floor. There I placed myself as choice as possible in front of a couple on a date. He wanted me. But the 2 of them left to fuck even before their food arrived. I respect that. And Jasmine and I got to take advantage of their absense on the couch. Another guy sits down in front of Jasmine and I while we were getting more acquainted. He doubled up our drinks on his tab. His heavy fag accent confused his motives, so I flirted with him. Just to get his angle. He wanted me. (Trust me, I know he did). I wasn't even attracted to the bastard anyway. Man, I got him thinking he was gonna get a piece of me, and then Jasmine came back. She and I kissed like an affair in front of the guy. I wish I saw the look on his face. He could only bear watching me for a second, then he carried his ego out of the bar in a snuffbox. Well gee. Making him look like an ass was so damn choice. Jasmine and I laughed like punks. At a lame club later, we disced this other asshole together. I sat idle for a while, getting in this guys whole stupid story. He was just a meathead all niave and fat and I hated every inch of his fat fuck face. He should've known he was getting nowhere with us. But he sat down anyway. Jasmine was already insulting him like a slap on the wrist. I didn't care what he was saying anymore. Wait a minute. I cut him short of a boring fuck conversation he had no way out of. Wait. Do you actually think for a minute that we would be interested in you? He was shocked. I didn't even shake his hand when he offered it. What a STUPID FUCKING GESTURE to do when you get blown off. Here DUH. Let's shake and AGREE not to fuck. I psyched him with my fancy flashy hand movements. Never let him touch me once though. I gave a snear and left the fuck empty handed. Jasmine thought that whole performance was just shear sex. God you disced that guy GOOD. She compliments me. Okay, so she couldn't take it anymore. She wanted me NOW. I wasn't about to go against her passion. I wouldn't assume to. She wanted to play dominant. Ate me out. I came soft and long. She had tall nipples. Josie came home in the middle of my second build. I would've came again, but the kitchen and bathroom noises from the other room made me nervous. The phone rings, so Jasmine hops out of my bed to get answer it but Josie was already fast talking to Damon on the livingroom payphone. The cats had dumped the coffee table over. The phone was for me. So here I was on the phone at 2 in the morning, describing why I was laughing to my best friend. The world was a whorlwind of colorful new people and stupid accidents all at once. I think Josie came home that night just in case she was gonna catch Jasmine and I in the act. There was a strange group together if I ever saw one. The sweet Swank model blondie who was Bi virgin, me the recently deflowered, and the dominant girl. What the hell is in store for the us the next time we meet together... Jasmine, Josie AND me? Fuck. Watch out world. |
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