Conversational Conundrums

I told a friend this morning that I am going to get a new t-shirt, and I am going to wear it out every weekend from now on. And it’s going to say “Then why the fuck did you bring it up?”

Seriously. I had too many conversations last night where people would say something to me, and then I would respond with a comment on what they’d said, and then they’d get all paranoid and wig out and start denying all kinds of shit that I didn’t even care about in the first fucking place.

For the record – when I am having bar conversation with you, peripheral acquaintance, you’re going to get only four or five topics from me. These topics, loosely are:

• How we are doing with our various drinks
• How our respective days/weeks were (a.k.a. how I hate my job, don’t you?)
• Look at that fuckwit over there (sometimes “isn’t it crowded/not crowded?”)
• How the music does/doesn’t suck
• What we’re doing later

That’s about as in-depth of a conversation as I want to have with people who are not my actual friends. I don’t care if other people bring up other topics, but I do think it’s safer to stick to these, so you don’t have any misunderstandings. So for instance if you want to point out people in the bar you’ve fucked, or want to fuck, that’s cool. But don’t bring that shit up and then get all testy when I ask you a question, or make a comment about one of those people.

Don’t bring up specific problems or issues you’re having in your life unless you’re asking for my help in solving them. For instance: don’t bring up your mysterious computer ailments that you can’t solve on your own or afford to have diagnosed elsewhere—knowing that I could help you—and then say you don’t need help. If you don’t want or need my help then what the fuck did you bring it up for? You think I carry cookies in my pocket to hand out for commiseration when people have problems? I do not. My personality means that if you present me with a problem I will try to offer whatever resources I have to solve it for you. Don’t bring up shit I can help you with and then tell me you don’t need help. I am not your therapist, I am an actual actor in your world.

Don’t tell me you’re sad and can’t sleep and have all kinds of stress and then tell me you’re fine and don’t need anyone to talk to. I don’t care if you don’t want to talk to me about your problems, I’m private too, but don’t start talking to me about your shit and then get cagey when you realize I am actually listening. Don’t bring it up if you want to keep it secret, I don’t go for that cryptic bullshit. If you want to make enigmatic statements, make them to someone else. I don’t respect your angst or your quiet desperation or whatever issue you’re working over there.  Talk or don’t talk, whatever the fuck your pleasure is, but make a fucking decision already. Your leading statements practically leave an ellipsis hanging in the air after them, don’t freak when I try to follow up. I don’t really care all that much, but YOU are the one who brought it up.

Don’t tell me you’re lonely and then refuse to come talk to people. Don’t ask me a question and then promptly zone out on my answer. Don’t contradict yourself, don’t engage my interest then freak out when I ask questions about what you’re telling me. Don’t be patently feeling one way and saying you feel another way. What am I, emotionally retarded? No. Just don’t be so fucking weird.

So if you want to have bar conversation, have bar conversation. Topics listed above. If you’re my friend, and you want to have friend conversation A) Make sure I am not too drunk first B) Make sure there’s no one I hate standing right there (I am not going to talk about anything in front of people I hate. Real conversation requires some semblance of privacy, or else you’re always going to get some fuckwit chiming in with their unsolicited advice and commentary. Fuck that.) Once you know I am not about to pass out, and there aren’t a bunch of people standing there that I want to stab, then C) fire away with any topic in your pretty little head. I will talk about anything with my friends.

But seriously, don’t bring it up if you don’t want to talk about it. I have the time for that bullshit, but not the patience.

Protected: The Depersonalization Disordered Thinking Feeling Related Anxiety Syndrome, Chronic Rapid Onset Variety Show

Protected: Night Becomes Day

This Just In

I think I can officially say that there’s pretty much nothing on the earth that I can’t make myself feel guilty about and/or responsible for. Everyone’s everything? My responsibility. Somehow in my head it’s all under my control, and I am meant to make it all feel better, make it perfect, make it right. Can’t turn my brain off, because it’s always searching for ways to make everything OK for everyone. Either that or it’s seeking ways and means to flee all these people and their voracious undemanded demands.

It’s the most horrific combination of narcissism and martyrhood. The better I know you, the worse it is for me. The more the things you want are in conflict with the things my other people want, the worse it is for me. The more the things you want are in conflict with what’s good for me, the worse it is for me. The more unscrupulous and/or oblivious type of person you are, the worse it is for me.

This is my brain on people

It’s just not safe for me to interact with people, seriously. Any day now I am going to accidentally spontaneously invert my brain, trying to make so many simultaneous things work out for so many people. It’s gonna be messy.

I think I am going to go sit in the bathroom and stare at the wall for awhile.

PS: Whatever it is you need or want from me—especially if it’s for me to STFU and chill out already—I just don’t think I am going to be able to deliver.

Random Thursday Ramble

My head is confused this week. I can’t seem to wrap my brain around anything, or get anything accomplished. Perhaps spewing all the nonsense I am able to share will help me get my thoughts in order.

Mommymobile – Still have it. This is the price I pay for not paying full price for repairs to my own car I guess. Nice that my Mom doesn’t mind (too much) lending me her vehicle for all this time. I actually really like driving it. It’s a Mercury Mariner, and it’s only a year or two old, unlike my ancient (circa 2000) Kia Sportage. I will miss the mommymobile when I have to return it, as the sensation of having my buttocks gently warmed as I drive to work in the morning is not entirely unpleasant. Kia doesn’t care if my buttocks remain cold.

I also like her sassy sunroof, which allows me to have fresh air in the city w/o feeling like I am going to get carjacked if I don’t pay attention to my open window. I don’t like her gas mileage, which is the suck, or how the car leaps forward when I take off from stop signs, making me peel out and sound as if I am a  17 year old boy with a really small penis.

It kinda makes me want to buy a new car, but then I remember how nice it is to have no car payment, and not to worry that anyone will want to steal my own POS car, and I resign myself to however many years la Kialissima has left in it. One thing that I’ve really been enjoying is my Mom’s car stereo, which actually plays real CDs (mine gave that up years ago) and has an excellent speaker system. What’s been driving me nuts though is that when I come off the highway and brake hard I would swear that the volume auto-lowers itself. It’s happened enough times that I don’t think it’s my imagination. I asked my Mom about it, but apparently she doesn’t listen to KMOX loud enough to trigger the stereo turning itself down when she brakes. This morning as I was cycling through some options on the stereo I saw something to do with “brake volume seven” and I think I am NOT crazy, there’s some kind of built-in system for monitoring your speed which assumes I want to lower my volume when i am not on the highway. Has anyone ever heard of such a feature?

Industrial Music – Been listening to a lot more industrial stuff lately, which I enjoy, but I have to laugh and wonder at the names. Why do all of these bands have to be called things like “ChristFuck” and “SkullFuck” and have songs like “Wreath of Barbs” and “Flesh Harvest”? It just makes me laugh. I guess they have to call themselves something, and fluffyBunnyBrains wouldn’t work, but it’s really kind of silly. And this morning I was listening to something on last.fm, the other main listener of which was called “Candy_Slutfuck.” I mean really. Continue reading »

You really couldn’t have it more wrong.

So this is two weeks in a row that my Friday experience has very negatively impacted my Saturday experience. Which makes me think that there are some changes needing to be made.

To be fair, I was pissed as all hell going into Friday, so it’s not surprising that I didn’t enjoy myself, but still I might have if everyone I ran into wasn’t such a total douchebag. I was edgy and irritable, I know, but that doesn’t change the fact that I was insulted in about 397 ways, and had to deal with some major fucktwats.

Seriously, when you’re talking to someone and they keep telling you that maybe you should shut up before you hurt their feelings, and then they are forced to say, “OK stop. Just stop talking now.” but you keep talking… then don’t be acting surprised when they have a negative reaction to the rest of what you’re saying, and possibly try to run you over with their car later in the evening.

And don’t get that shocked look on your face like “Why is this girl trying to run me over with her car?” Because you should intuit that shit way before I am forced to mow you down.What am I, made of some kind of non-feelings-having substance? Is it seriously OK to say anything to me, and expect me not to care? I am so tired of being polite, I am so tired of being nice, I am so tired of peacekeeping and making allowances for things people say to me – I am so, so tired of it. There is only so much a girl can take, OK? I know I am smiling on the outside, but on the inside I am six inches from stabbing you. Continue reading »

Get Your Own Everything

No matter how negatively I feel about my life sometimes, I can at least say that it is not, and will never be, an appropriation of someone else’s thoughts. Or someone else’s language, or someone else’s interests, or someone else’s friends and activities.

I am tired of seeing myself regurgitated.

Please admire my mental jewelry

Love this piece on why smart people fail at dating and love.

excerpted from Huffington Posts’ Dr. Alex Benzer: Why The Smartest People Have The Toughest Time Dating. (bolding mine)

2. Smart people feel that they’re entitled to love because of their achievements.

For most of their lives, smart people inhabit a seemingly meritocratic universe: if they work hard, they get good results or, in the case of really smart folks, even if they don’t work hard, they still get good results. Good results mean kudos, strokes, positive reinforcement, respect from peers, love from parents.

So it only makes sense that in the romantic arena, it should work the same way. Right? The more stuff I do, the more accomplishments and awards I have, the more girls or boys will like me. Right? Please say I’m right, because I’ve spent a LOT of time and energy accumulating this mental jewelry, and I’m going to be really bummed if you tell me it’s not going to get me laid.

Hope That’s Working Out for You

Last night MyTodd™ called me at 3:30 or so to see what I was doing for dinner. “Looking for it” was the only correct answer, since I had not eaten lunch and was just that moment pondering whether to have a very very late lunch, or just give the whole thing up for a bad business and eat a very early dinner when I got home. He suggested that he come pick me up at 5:00 p.m. and we go tool around town and find some food to eat, and I found myself inclined to acquiesce to that proposal. We ended up at Tucker’s in Soulard, and though I had promised that I was hungry enough to eat anywhere, I was disappointed that the menu seemed to be “Meat”, “Meat with a Side of Meat” ,”Red Meat with a Meaty Sauce” and “Meat Medley.” I settled on a burger, and he got a steak. OMG, someone should remind me that a Quarter Pounder is actually only 4oz, because this burger was 9oz. That was a lot of meat. It was tasty, but I don’t eat red meat that often, so it was a heavy meal.

Anyway, we had a nice time, catching up on our respective weekend activities. We sat right in front of the window, one floor up overlooking the sidewalk below which was really nice and vaguely European in feel. That part of the city has lots of random men in black leather coats walking around, and according to MyTodd™ most of them were Armenian mob bosses and their bodyguards. So we ate meat, people-watched and gossiped. It was quiet in the restaurant, because it was still pretty early. The bar was a little busier, I suppose with happy-hour style people. When we were almost done with our dinner we were interrupted by a loud voice coming from the other side of the room. “SORRY!” the voice proclaimed. Turning our heads we were startled by the appearance of a disheveled late-30-something woman with spiky hair and smeared eye makeup. “I’m sorry! My friend just died. A good friend.” she slurred, lurching toward the stairs down to the bar. The woman was wearing some kind of age-inappropriate miniskirt and heels, neither of which looked like they were going to serve her well for an evening of drunken lurching.

“I’m sorry, sorry to ruin your dinner.” Continue reading »

Cary Tennis on Asymmetrical Relationships

A woman wrote in about truly wacky, paranoid behavior on the part of her fiance, which Cary addresses while using the opportunity to reflect upon something that also bothers me – the media/internet/idiot/invented (?) assumption that being in relationship with another person is a contest, or a con game, or a battle.

Because here’s what bothers me about this thing: The assumption is that neither party is in good faith and that each is trying to screw over the other. That’s a model of the capitalist marketplace at its worst; it is not a model of a loving relationship. The assumption is a cynical one, and it sets up an exploitative condition: If one person is acting in total self-interest while the other assumes that they are acting collaboratively, an asymmetry arises that can be deeply exploitative. In fact, that’s the basic setup for any con or deceptive enterprise. Thus Tom Leykis not only suggests putting hot sauce in used condoms but suggests men routinely lie to the women they date, that they claim to be doctors or lawyers, that they create whole fictitious identities in order to get laid. For instance, he suggests that a man scribble his phone number on a found ATM receipt that reflects a large bank balance, so that a woman will conclude that he is rich. Such tactics assume that the woman must be tricked.

Leykis and his followers may claim that they are simply being realistic. I find the whole approach quite deeply insane.

via My fiance put hot sauce in his used condoms, a Since You Asked column by Cary Tennis | Salon Life.

“Quite deeply insane” – yes, me too. I ingest snippets of information from various sources that lead me to believe that many people do not approach relationships the way that I do. Not just approach – comprehend. I can’t say my way is better than any other way because my approach to other people is kind of fucked up in general, but it does baffle me that some people see relationships as needing some kind of elaborate strategery to accomplish. Perhaps I am too up-front, too literal, too retarded to get this, but working a relationship as a competition with a desired “winning” outcome and considering the other person the offensive team doesn’t make any sense.

I also read this article in the Washington Post this morning “Market for Romance Goes from Bulllish to Sheepish” which had some mind-boggling douche-a-tron quotes like: Continue reading »

F**k a bunch of insomnia

Out until 2:30 last night, in bed by 3:00, up by 7:00 – not tired. Fuck that. How can I fail at something as fucking FAIL as sloth, for fuck’s sake? I would have liked to stay in bed all day – wake up all surprised at 4pm like “OMG how did it get to be so late?” and then wander around in my PJs eating cereal and watching TV. I am attempting to lead a dissolute kind of lifestyle up in here, people. Instead I am up at the asscrack of Saturday dawn, freezing and aggravated. And this is on the back of getting pretty much no sleep at all this week, and not being able to nap yesterday afternoon.

I had a shitty night last night – completely of my own design – and plan to have an even shittier day today, resenting Mardi Gras parades and the drunken, teeming throngs of fuckwits they represent, resenting MyTodd™ going to that stupid party I don’t want to go to and making it so I have nothing to do tonight, resenting myself for not wanting to go, resenting this stupid-ass holiday for existing in the first place and basically feeling like the wrong sort of person in the wrong sort of world.

Because I can take my own happy ass out and do whatever the fuck I want without a security blanket – I know I can. But I don’t know if I will, even though it would make me happy to do it. And I hate my whole everything for that even being my god-damned dilemma. I am too old and too smart for this bullshitty way of being. So I resent me and the world and life too. And I know that sucks and is a shitty attitude and I should be a different, shiny happy kind of person. But at the same time I am sick to fucking death of people asking me why I am not a different, happy-shiny kind of person.

I am JUST NOT.

BECAUSE, that’s why.

Sometimes people throw away happiness with both hands because that’s really all they can think to do with it. Maybe happiness is heavy, I don’t fucking know.

Edit: After talking to a friend of mine, apparently things are not as much my fault as I thought they were, and other people are also much to blame. This soothes my savage insomnia beast a little. I don’t know if it’s harder to assume everything’s my fault, or harder to realize some things can’t be my fault because they’re out of my control.

Damien Rice – Woman Like a Man (listen at blip.fm)

You wanna get boned,
You wanna get stoned,
You wanna get a room like no one else.
You wanna be rich,
You wanna be kitsch,
You wanna be the bastard of yourself.
You wanna get burned,
You wanna get turned,
You wanna get fucked inside out.
You wanna be ruled,
You wanna be fooled,
You wanna be a woman like a man,
Like a woman like a man.

Life Tends to get Distracting

As a result of the mind-numbing bullshitfest of boredom that has become my job, I am really easily distractable these days. Ask me to do something and I might do it. And then again it might be two hours later, I have 67 Firefox tabs open, I’m listening to some streaming audio, writing a blog post, checking my tweets and ordering a new handbag online. If you remind me about what you asked me, I will claim to be extremely busy and not had time to get to it yet, but honestly my brain is so distracted with bullshit and flinching from the constant barrage of INSANE ideas generated by my corporate overlords that I just couldn’t focus enough to get your shit done. Sorry.

Anyway, twitter so didn’t help yesterday. People kept posting the most distracting links, causing me to get lost for 30 minutes at a time. Here are a few.

@KBestOliver spread the joy with this little gem: http://www.whywomenhatemen.blogspot.com/which is all sarcastic commentary on men’s online dating profiles. It is sad and hilarious, and I am actually glad that a straight man writes it, as it gives me some faith in humanity after all. It reminds me of a time a year or two ago when my own blog had a large sub-section of horrific dating profile posts. (remember this guy? Or this one? Or this serial killer? Or my favorite “piss off the porch lifestyle” guy?[midway through that post])

There’s a companion site http://psychoticlettersfrommen.blogspot.com/ which is all whiny bitch-ass men crying about why women dumped their crazy asses. I love it.

Also @cbellers shared this gem FMyLife which has completely destroyed my last remaining hope that there’s any goodness left in the world. Just a bunch of horrible random bad things that happen to people, all collected together. Fascinating in a horrible way.

Then @violentecstasy posted she was looking for a new bag for her laptop, leading me to visit bluefly.com and this criminally expensive scrotal sac of a bag. And waste another chunk of time looking at bags.

And then somehow (popurls?) I found this link of 8 musicians who need to be punched in the face, which claims that the existence of Amy Winehouse is proof that “a Unicorn had once been fucked by Ol’ Dirty Bastard, sans prophylactic.”

OK I am sure there were more, but for now I have to go to work. Where I will toil with laser-focus and get a shitload of stuff done. Or update this post with more links.

Random crap of the day

• There are two inches of hard-packed ice in my parking pad, and last night I almost fell and cracked my head right open. Ice melt isn’t helping and it seems like the sun never reaches that area.
• I am listening to too much industrial music right now, and I don’t know if that’s feeding my anxiety, or my anxiety is fueling my need to hear it.
• I got my doctor to switch up one of my medications for an extended release version, which may in fact make me feel slightly less sick. Fingers crossed because if this doesn’t work I am going to stop taking any of this shit, and damn the consequences.
• My soul is deeply dissatisfied, and needs some stimulation. Usually this results in my doing something really, really bad for me in order to have something to worry about. Should be fun – stay tuned for the upcoming breakdown, and feel free to tell me later that I have no one to blame but myself.
• I am really over slutty stupid t-shirt graphics. If you want to be a big attention-seeking whore then fine, but the unfunny t-shirt on top of that is just annoying.
• I am enchanted with writers like Neil Gaiman who choose to share so much of their lives and processes with us. What a wonderful way to be in the world. What unimaginable access the internet gives us. How exciting technology can be.
• Right now I am also loving Paulo Coelho’s blog.

His current question regarding “Saving the Planet” speaks to the way I feel about the terms in which our approach to conservation is couched. We talk about “saving the planet” as if the planet is a thing we control. Something we could possibly destroy. Our hubris is astonishing. By destroying our habitat and the environment we’re destroying many life forms, and possibly ourselves – but this planet will be here long, long after we’re gone.

If you think of the Earth as an experimental closed system, and take the part of an outside observer, what do you see? What one factor in this system throws all the other factors out of balance, and creates non-sustainability and chaos? What uses more than it gives back? What part of the system causes the other parts to fail? That’s right kids, it’s us. No other species or life form in this system is so out of balance with its surrounding environment. Everything else finds ways to adapt, live in harmony with its surroundings. Not us. We’re a uniquely destructive force, bending the world’s limited resources to their breaking point, destroying that which sustains us and ultimately marking ourselves for extinction. It’s unfortunate that we’re taking so many other things with us on our flaming death spiral, but in the end I can’t say that the extinction of humans is a bad thing. Think how the planet could restore itself to balance without us fucking everything up.

We are the cockroaches of the universe; devouring, infecting, using our giant hive minds to adapt the world to our needs rather than adapt ourselves to the world. For now we’re entrenched and as long as we’re here we’re going to keep destroying everything we touch.

As an observer seeking order and trying to maintain some kind of workable system, guess what dysfunctional life form I would pluck from this equation? You got it.

If there were a god, he’d totally disappear us. The fact that we are suffered to exist is enough proof to me that no one’s in charge. So no, we’re not going to save the world. We may save ourselves, but I doubt it. Since saving ourselves is a net negative for the planet, I am not even sure that it should be encouraged.

Anyway, that’s not meant to be depressing, that’s just how I see it.

Everything that I said I’d do
Like make the world brand new
And take the time for you
I just got lost and slept right through the dawn
And the world spins madly on

- The Weepies “World Spins Madly On”

Find Some F*cking Balance, Already

One of these nights I am going to rediscover the midpoint between a) soberly loathing everyone I see and b) falling-down drunkenly not minding them as much. But that night was definitely not last night.

Progression of the night was something like this*:

1. “WTF do you mean there’s no parking? Fuck this whole street full of people.”
2. “Oh gross, Backstreet is here and is the first person I see. Bleh.”
3. “Yay! Matt and Todd!”
4. “OK this end of the bar is fine, I like these people. Can I get a drink over here?”
5. “Yay! Dave!”
6. “Yay! Jessica!”
7. “Oh! Mix CD from Jessica, sweet.”
8. “WTF do you mean the men’s bathroom is broken? Great. Love to share the ladies’ bathroom with the guys. As if the bathroom situation here wasn’t fucked up enough already. Umm, no Dave, we’re not going to pee together holding hands across the table. No, not even if I have three more drinks.”
9. “Why are there so many people standing behind me? Stop standing behind me you horrible standy motherfuckers. Go away. Preferably somewhere dead.”
10. “Who’s Todd talking to? Oh, for fuck’s sake. Not THAT GUY. Yeah, I still recognize and hate you with your beard shaved off, dickweasel. And your boyfriend, by association. Ugh. And HER too? And I even have to pretend to like her. Do I have to talk to her? I am going to pretend to be invisible. Fuck this noise.”
11. “Give me another drink please? Also I think a tranquilizer might be in order right about now, to take the edge off of how much I hate you all.”
12. Drink, drink, talk, drink. Hate on people.
13. “OK, whatever, these people suck some serious ass, but I don’t even care all that much. Hey, can I get another drink over here?”
14. “Yay! Molly!”
15. “Wait, where did Todd go?”
16. Txt to Todd: WTF I hate everyone where are you?
17. Txt from Todd: I am nine feet away, calm yourself. Don’t hate.
18. “OK, Todd’s within an acceptable range, although not visible. Can I have another drink please?”
19. Drink, drink, talk, drink. Hate on people, add people to list, talk, drink, talk. Begin greeting people I loathe with hugs and kisses.
20. “Oh, these are all my favorite people! What wonderful people I know! How wonderful life is! Srsly!”
21. “I am not sure if I can drink all of this drink, I feel a little oddball right about now.”
22. Sip drink, talk, talk, glance askance at drink, avoid drink, talk more.
23. “Oh, people are the best and most fun! What interesting conversation! How witty we all are! Life is so delightful!”
24. “Wait, I feel seriously strange right about now. Can I have some water or something?”
25. Txt to Todd: Srsly WTF? Where are you now?
26. Txt frm Todd: W/E! I am coming back!
27. Todd comes back!
28. “Todd! Hello Todd, only person I love in the whole world!”
29. “Todd I feel like maybe I need to go stand outside for a minute.”
30. “Todd, it’s really fucking cold out here, I feel like we need to go back in.”
31. “Four. Cheez-its. No, no dinner. Did I skip a step? I don’t want to be here anymore.”
32. Sit, talk, chat, talk, drink water. People come and go.
33. “Yay! Hotpants!”
34. I don’t feel well at all. At least I don’t have hiccups.
35. “Todd, I really wish I was at home in bed right this minute.”
36. “Mangia? Are you fucking kidding my shit? No. Home, bed, please.”
37. Home.

So I am going to chalk last night up as mostly FAIL. I had fun, but then felt so bad at the end that I couldn’t even enjoy the fun I was having. I don’t know what happened to the perfect therapeutic drinking level balance that I was rocking for the last 6 months, because that was really working for me. I think that the worse my work-week is, the more I think drinking is going to fix it on Friday, which is (duh) obviously not the case. And I resent trying to have fun and then being forced to talk to people I don’t like, because I can’t talk about anything real with people I don’t like standing right there. They always try to jump in with their opinions, and I want to punch them in the face for their presumption. My brain has learned that drinking=not minding people as much, so then I drink more faster because I really want to not hate everyone.

But next time I’m going to just count on my hatred of everyone slowly dissipating through the night as I relax, rather than wanting it to be immediately gone and pounding down drinks until that happens. That process = a world of bad stomach feelings, pronounced dizziness and sometimes hiccups.

Also I have a really strong feeling that someone gave me a Girls Gone Wild DVD last night and I left it at the bar. However I also have an equally strong feel that was a dream, because I can’t imagine who would do that or why.

Also, when I talk about hating everyone, I don’t mean YOU. I mean, you’re one of my favorite people! Of course I don’t mean you! It’s the others. The others I loathe, precious.

*texts are paraphrased because I don’t feel like going to find my phone and figure out what they really said. That’s what I remember of them. Also some details have been glossed over and/or omitted so as to protect the dignity of your friendly neighborhood superBadGirl.

My New Place

As I tweeted, I’ve totally decided that once I come into some money I am opening up a new place in StL. It’s going to be a combination deli and 3 a.m.- license bar, and I am going to call it “The Last Resort Meat Market.” It’s going embody all of the very worst elements you usually find at the last bar to close, leaving defenseless, drunken women surrounded by all the totally random horny guys who just realized they don’t have anyone to fuck tonight. The lights will always be up, the drinks will be both weak and expensive, and it’s going to smell permanently of sweat and bad cologne, with a hint of barf for a piquantly stimulating upnote.

Also it will sell meat in cases.

I understand that @narcise is going to be a roller-skate waitress there, and she will be sorely needed to keep some fuckwits in their places.

@todderickv is going to be the bouncer, but will be totally ineffective since he will let absolutely anyone in as long as they’re not taller than him.

On opening night we’re going to have a special show promoted by @gatewaygroupie – Pollyanna Blowjob is going to be opening for Jake Speaks L337, with special guests, Shitting Liquid.

That’s as far as my plans have gotten, but I am really warming to the idea. I think I would make an excellent proprietress for this type of establishment, as a severe, disapproving frown is already my default expression.

Once I come into some money, people. Just you wait. Let me know if you think there’s a role for you to play at The Last Chance Meat Market.