 15 april 2000 too much to drink ----- ------- -----
About an hour ago I was wishing I kept an air rifle in my car, so I could shoot holes in the tires of every vehicle on the freeway that pissed me off. Hmm, in retrospect, the ammunition might cost more than the gun in this case.
What I really can't stand are the Sport Utility Vehicle driving gas guzzling car-as-status-symbol freaks who think their 4X4's are the perfect commuter vehicles of the new millennium. I won't go off on them here -- everything has already been said, and even better than I could say it, on this site. SUV's just piss me off -- 'nuff said.
Had to drive Gabby downtown to pick up her car -- she gets it fixed twenty miles away so she can save a few bucks, not to mention what she wastes in her own and other people's time and money with her decision. Who am I to complain? Just the fool who nearly lost his mind in the traffic getting her there.
It started on the way to the freeway. It seemed the whole city of Santa Monica was under construction today. Add to that the normal beautiful-day beach traffic, and what would normally be a five minute drive to the freeway took a half hour. We had to go halfway to Malibu just to get on the stinking 10 freeway. Once on the 10, it was clear and 70 mph until La Cienega, where the herd of BMW's and 4X4's slowed like lemmings to a 5 mph crawl. I muttered a single expletive and quietly covered the last three miles to downtown in about 40 minutes. Sometimes I really hate this city.
I took surface streets back to the apartment, and it was undeniably quicker. A quick stop for cigs at the Queens Market on Venice, and now I'm home, considering taking a nap before a party I'm supposed to attend tonight, where a friend of mine is going to introduce me to one her friends with the hope that something romantic might spark up. Yeah right. As for me, I haven't had a drink in over 48 hours, so I intend to get nice and buzzed at the soiree, a realistic possibility considering the whole thing's going down about two blocks from here.
Yeah, I think it's time for that nap now. Maybe I'll get lucky and not wake up until tomorrow morning. It'd be a helluvan excuse for not showing up, though...
There's something to be said for attending a raucuos party less then 300 yards from one's own home. I'm just not sure what that something is.
I dunno, but the negative connotations of "just one more drink" seem to disappear when you're within stumbling distance of home.
The "person" (read:set-up) I was suppose to meet tonight left the party before I had a chance to talk to her. So instead I gravitated towards the heterosexual company of an overgrown fratboy, who took it upon himself to mix toxic concoctions for my consumption at the blender.
Perhaps "fratboy" is a bit too cruel in this instance, for this guy was more friendly and less exclusive. He was the slightly overweight yet lovable "party animal" that you find in every movie made about teenagers and/or college students. He couldn't stop telling me how cool I was.
Ugh ... the room is spinning. So much for mixing rum, gin, vodka, triple-sec, beer, and other flavored liquors in my fragile little stomach. I hate tropical parties. Gonna go try and sleep with my eyes open...
(a little over) one year ago: x-country ii: I'm alive, I'm airborne, and I'm feeling like I owe the world a favor because I was too selfish to give up my window seat.
two years ago: the edge of insanity: Well, gee chuck, you lose your girlfriend and your cigarettes and you claim you have no life left. Which means that you had absolutely no life outside of your girlfriend and cigarettes.
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