It's 4:30am and I'm wired! Yipee! In the summertime, it's hard to sleep before the sun comes up. So it's time for a rambly, livejournalesque, "bla bla bla this is what I did tonight" post. So bla bla bla this is what I did tonight:
8:30pm- Returned from my daily galavant through the woods. Was feeling proud of myself for drafting a few ass-nasty, exquisite scenes of the lobster story in my journal. And for not catching poison ivy. I still want rabies, though. 9 to 11pm- Read Dickens. Then felt this urgent fear that something is very wrong with me. What kind of 21-year-old girl stays home and reads a Victorian novel on Saturday night? 11:30pm- A call from a certain person from my past, who I'm pleased I've gotten to know again. He still has a piece of knife imbedded in his hand from when I stabbed him 4 years ago. (He asked me to!) So basically, what he does is travel around and fix things. Tonight, he was working at a place near Dixon where they rebuild old VW Beetles. It's in an abandoned cold war era fallout shelter, which rocks. Anyway, the highlight of his night, aside from downing a bottle of rum, was when one of the shop dogs emerged from the bushes with a severed head in its mouth. The head was from a cat who ran off, the previous winter and died. They took the cat head away from the first dog and gave it to another dog who eats anything. And sure enough, it gobbled down the cat's head along with 6 months of decay. Mmm! 1:30am- A call from everyone's favorite sneaky bald man with a camera. He told me he got a new vehicle and suggested we go for a ride. He arrived an hour later and I was a little horrified to see that the vehicle was a motorcycle. I've always admired motorcycles from afar, but never had the opportunity or guts to ride on one. But dammit, it was cool. A shiny new crotch rocket bike. So I put on the helmet, threw my short little leg over the seat and held on tight. Maybe too tight. I hope I didn't bruise his ribs with my fingertips. I was scared I'd fall off whenever we turned or stopped. I don't trust Gravity since she's the Devil's girlfriend (long story, ask if you're curious). As usual, I was wearing a skirt so it blew up over my legs as we rode, giving our fellow travelers a nice view of my panties. Oops. We decided to ride to Denny's because, well what the fuck else is there to do in the suburbs at nearly 3am? Besides, living in the city, he saw it as a kind of suburban novelty. In the Denny's there was a pack of Skinny Blonde Girls (TM) accompanied by a skinny blonde boy. Their clothes were spotted in mud and they looked like they were related. I mused that they were a set of very close quintuplets who grew up in some poor, rural town where there's nothing to do and thus, made a hobby of playing in the mud. My companion, ever the nosy journalist, walked over to their table and asked one of the Blonde Girls (TM) why she was muddy. It turns out the group had just gone to a Dave Matthew's Band concert. Bla, definitely not as interesting as my speculation. The ride back home on the motorcycle was not as scary. Actually, it was very fun. It's refreshing to get pelted with air on a hot night. And the danger of knowing that if you fall, you'll probably break a limb or two makes it all the more exciting. Life should be more dangerous. Coffee should be hotter, the holes in the sidewalk should be deeper. 3:30am- Returned to my house. Me and aforementioned guy parked his motorcycle out front and went inside to visit His Evil Highness Bud the Cat. 4am- Alone now. I'm still awake? WTF!! It must be the coffee I had at Denny's. *twitch* 4:15am- My dad stumbled into the living room, in a hungover daze and said, "Don't ride motorcycles." That's the first vaguely parental thing he's done in 12 years. 4:30am- Began writing this inane and rambling post, completely shattering my new goal of posting things that people would actually like to read. 5:30am- The sun is rising. Bedtime! Zzzzzzzzzzzz.
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