When I used to go out I'd know everyone I saw / Now I go out alone if I go out at all.

6:31 pm, November 7, 2004

Well, I got to get out some election frustration last night. In my drunken fury, as we were taking our friends home last night, I noticed a couple George Bush and Nethercutt signs in the yards. Man, those signs didn't stand a chance! I crumpled up those pieces of shit and flung them as far as I could down the street. As it so happens, the girl who we were dropping off has this brother who's, I wanna say around 20 years old. Even though she comes from a family of liberals, her brother is a staunch republican. Well, he got home around the same time that we dropped them off, just in time to see me fling the last of the signs. Well, when I saw him talking shit, I took it upon myself to throw the fucking sign in his direction. I suppose I got under the douche bag's skin a lil' bit, 'cause he decided the next proper course of action was to try and fight me.

Now, I'm a few sheets to the wind at this point in our evening. Had a 40 and a few beers before we left, then about three pints of beer at this really shitty jazz bar, with this band who played much better as a two-piece. The bassist and drummer were pretty wicked as they started us off with a twenty minute instrumental set. Then, they got this woman up there who thought she was across between Natalie Merchant and Ani Difranco. Mostly, she just howled a lot and played semi-competent Jack Black style guitar. Well, without the KG of the group, they were really floundering towards the end. We had to leave after the second pitcher, though, 'cause Jake wasn't able to get in the drinking he wanted to.

So, we've got Jake's friend Derrick holding back his girlfriend's brother, who, I'm not gonna lie to you, was a little big. I mean, he's no Artie (the strongest MAN . . . in the world!), but I'm thinking he could've taken me in my inebriated state. However . . . if I had proper BACKUP, then who knows what could've happened. Seriously, if I have Kon or Andrés there, ready to back me up when I get in a drunken head-lock, throwing fists in any and all directions to get myself free, I would've felt a lot more comfortable. As it stood, I had Jake. I had Jake pleading with me to get me back in the car. He almost had me in there, until the ass-munch started to talk MORE shit. Of course, at this point, he was half-way to his house. I'm thinking maybe he was still sizing me up. If he KNEW how much of a collosal weakling I actually am, he would've been all over me. But, you know, I did the smart thing. I wouldn't want to go breaking any glasses or adding to my collection of face-scars. I'm tellin' you, though, I'm lookin' to throw down! Hopefully, in the coming few weeks, I'll run into a zealous Bush supporter and have a proper crew behind me. I know I can talk a good game; I'd like to see how the guns handle a good ol' fashioned ass-whoopin'. Of course, a little less intoxicants in my system would further my chances in dealing that ass-whoopin'.

We made it back alive, just in time to watch Van Helsing. The drinking game this time would be a drink for every movie cliché implimented and for every person/monster killed. Yeah, I had to succumb after about a half hour. I don't remember how much the movie actually sucked, but let me put it this way. It's set in the 1700's or 1600's or some shit, and Van Helsing had this semi-automatic crossbow, shooting about a million arrows a minute. I don't even think I would've enjoyed that movie even when I was five. How that movie made two cents, I'll never know. Because I refuse to go back and attempt watching that thing sober.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go watch the Sonics get decimated in the second half to the Spurs.

Current Mood: Dino! Down Boy! Down!
Current Music: Jeff Buckley - Tongue