Where I once Again Start Feeling Bad For Myself

This weekend was no boon to my recent glut. That was a fun sentence to write but it’s meaning is shitty. But the past couple of days have been fun in ways. On Friday I went over to the Rod’s to play poken with the boys. We started out with a texas hold’em tournament with a $15 buy-in because everyone has been watching too much celebrity poker. I drank way too much but woke up in the morning with $60 in my pocket. I spent nearly all of Saturday sleeping in Rod’s basement. It was nice, and cool, and dark, down there. I spent the rest of the day on my couch.

I did nothing on Sunday. Cleaned up the apartment a little I guess. I joined some friends at the bank for the last half of the super bowl. Afterwards a couple of us went to the hippy bar. One of the guys I went with was doing shots of grease with a cocktail weenie in it. He did four of them, he should have thrown up. Half the bar was really excited and pounding the bar with ashtrays and chanting “weenie bobber, weenie bobber, weenie bobber” while the other half of the bar stared at him with disgust for being an attention-starved freak. One chick called him a “fucking pathetic ass”. I couldn’t tell why she was so upset that he was doing this to himself. Or maybe she needed the attention worse. I chanted for him because he was an attention-starved freak. It’s good to give attention to people who need it. For some dumb reason we ended up closing the bar, which is just plain ridiculous to do on a Sunday. I was glassy eyed this morning and I feel terrible about myself.