Still Saturday Morn(mourning), Marriage (Puke)

Still going on the Friday night/Saturday morning coke buzz (really, it was only coffee at the casino, I really have no idea what a coke buzz is like, why am I still up, with seven empty beer cans next to me?). The hairdresser, might as well call him G because that’s his real name and I’m sick of typing “hairdresser” and I’m going to be writing his book shortly. Last year on his birthday (55th) he was at the bar (go figure). Since he knows everyone under the sun (at least the sun under west Milwaukee), everyone as buying him shots of tequila. Mind you G used to drink Vodka and cranberry but switched to beer after he took out two tables in a monster header, sporting a nice bruise on his head for a week and doing another header on the outside wall of the bar when left unattended for ten seconds. The details of his ride home are sketchy, one account has someone giving the cab driver $20 and G’s account has him giving the cab driver $10, in either case it was only eight blocks. The cab driver (towel head) couldn’t find G’s street, G said “Let me out” and decided to find his own way home. That of course didn’t happen. The next day we found out G didn’t find his apartment but used a pine tree for a habitat for the evening (hairdresser/nature boy). The story goes that G woke up that morning to semis driving on the freeway, two blocks from his apartment. After the towel head cab driver couldn’t find his street, G couldn’t find it either. G found the nicest tree available (not taken by other drunk/homeless people) and made camp for the night. Thank goodness he had a nice winter jacket and is still alive to tell the story. As mentioned before, G is a hairdresser. The story goes that he went to work in the morning, 9:00 – 12:00, went home, took a nap, woke up at 3:00 and called his son (who was working the front desk) telling him to cancel all his morning appointments. His son was like, “ Dad, you cut everyone’s hair, what are you talking about?” I just wrote “was like,” what the… G didn’t remember cutting anyone’s hair that morning, I can only imagine what they turned out like. Which is part of the reason I’ve only been to G’s shop once for a hair cut, you have to catch him on his sober days. The other part is he only works from 9:00 to 1:00 during the week and 9:00-12:00 on Saturdays, and I’m lucky to be awake and somewhat sober to drive at 11:00 on a Saturday, even though his shop is eight blocks away, the combination of waking up, being sober enough to drive on a Saturday, and kicking the broad out who spent the night/soiled my sheets (might have been me)/gave me lame head (most nights)/puked in my shower (definitely not me, waste of beer), I never make it to his shop. So I go to the shop right next to my gym (they don’t know I soil my sheets there, or that I give myself bad head).

My life is grand, I know. I have friends who are married and having kids (congrats financial planner, I know I replied “my condolences” when you told me the wifey was preggers (and your wifey is fucking hot), but really, I’m happy for you, and you’ll find a check for $2,000 on Monday as I can’t trust myself with that much cash), (please don’t fuck me and divert that money to your account just because I said your wifey was fucking hot). Still can’t figure out why my stinky ass can’t have sex (with random skanky/homeless/toothless women). Never thought I’d have to get married to have sex, thought all married people didn’t have sex. Shit, can’t even imagine my parents having sex, and I’m pretty sure they haven’t after mom yelled at pops “Go suck on an egg,” still not sure what exactly that means, English mom, please. That was 15 years ago, and now they communicate via post-it notes, great, is that what I have to look forward to? Might explain my views on dating. Gotta wonder how the sister was created.