fter the usual Cocke Hall ritual, I was back at the Dynashack, hanging out with Monster Boy on the front porch. He was excited about the prospect of getting an interview for a job at the nearby Farmington Country Club (a typically Virginian gentlemen's society that only started admitting blacks ten years ago).
Then Matthew Hart and Leah his on-again-off-again- lesbian-girlfriend-now-wife arrived in Matthew's unstoppable Ford Escort Vomit Comet. We sat around drinking bourbon and talking and listening to Minor Threat, various thrash and hardcore bands, and my latest Slayer CD, Undisputed Attitude. It's not the sort of music one normally hears blaring from the Dynashack. One of John's more normal-looking friends walked by and Matthew asked me what I thought she thought of us. I said that I didn't know, but that she looked awfully clean. We then joked about how clean her asshole no doubt must be. Matthew postulated that if her asshole were examined by aliens its function would be an utter mystery.
We then joked about how clean her asshole no doubt must be. Matthew postulated that if her asshole were examined by aliens its function would be an utter mystery.
He's an intelligent monster who knows Adobe Photoshop and has attended years of college.
onster Boy went to his scheduled interview and returned soon after. He was not happy. He'd made the mistake of saying on his application that he would accept "any" job. Seeing his experience as a dish washer, they naturally assumed he would want to wash dishes, and his interview was with the dish washing czar. Monster Boy took one look at the huge sinks overflowing with big dirty pots and knew his mistake. He asked for another interview with someone in charge of something other than dish washing. He's an intelligent monster who knows Adobe Photoshop and has attended years of college. He doesn't want to wash dishes for the rest of his life.
Today was the Cinco de Mayo, a holiday in Mexico, and just another reason to drink in Charlottesville. Coronas might be nice on a warm and sunny Cinco de Mayo such as this one.
We went on a drive beyond the southeast edge of town to an extremely expensive retirement community where Leah's mother works. Leah had hopes of borrowing a credit card and buying expensive beer. But Leah's mother wasn't there and all that could be afforded was a 12 pack of Natural Ice at the Pantops Food Lion. It's 5.9 percent alcohol and thus nothing to sneeze at.
had a meeting planned with a local musician. He and I met at Cocke Hall and looked at web sites together for at least an hour. Nearby, students slaved down to the wire on their term papers. I'd eaten a Two Moons burrito and my breath stunk of onions.
Back at my house, I found a large contingent on the front porch. This contingent consisted of Leah, Matthew Hart and Monster Boy, along with Joanna the little-known Malvern Girl, her brother, and a friend named Charlie (he twice came out to Big Fun). Joanna said that I'm a hard man to find and of course I responded that a good man is hard to find. I talked very little with the Malvernians; I'm guessing they disappeared into the Dynashack and smoked pot with my housemates.
Meanwhile Matthew Hart drove Monster Boy, Leah and me out to the Barracks Road Super Fresh to obtain cranberry juice with which to dilute my massive cache of 100 proof vodka. We all stuffed our faces on free candy from the candy bins, but steered clear of the well-supervised salad bar.
n the way back from the store, we suddenly had the impulse to get some Taco Bell. So Matthew busted a sharp turn at high speed. We were going to go through the drive through, but saw an abundance of blond girls inside and decided to go inside. All four of us like blond girls, see.
Leah wanted to have tomatoes added to whatever entré she was ordering, but when the cashier told Matthew that it would cost 25 cents extra, Leah started shrieking and hollering and swearing. At first she claimed to be upset about the price of additional tomatoes, but then she saw that the tiles on the wall had an abstract design made of orange and blue triangles representing the letters "VA" as in "UVA." It appeared to be yet another shameless exploitation of Wahoo pride. This infuriated Leah even further; she continued hollering, cursing and screaming as she went out the door. I have to admit I'd found it all very embarrassing. But as soon as it was over I was pleased it had happened. I joked that it was a good thing there were no children present. A mother piped up with a concerned tone from across the room, saying that indeed a child "was present." I looked over and saw a little blond boy, perhaps four years of age. Leah later told us the little kid had loved her display.
A mother piped up with a concerned tone from across the room, saying that indeed a child "was present."
I have to say that I've seen Sara Poiron do precisely that sort of random psycho-extroverted display on many occasions, but Leah carried the genré of performance to an entirely new level.
Even my saying I wanted to fuck her in the most humiliating way possible added nothing to the value of my desire in the eyes of my friends.
ack at the Dynashack, we all drank vodka and cranberry juice and talked with abandon about all manner of subjects. I admitted that I still want to fuck the little Pink Barrette Gallery Neo Vino Girl, despite the fact that she appeared to like Wonderboy Neek. Leah was scandalized, and nothing I could say would change her opinion that my hunger to do so was badly misplaced. She claimed there were many more beautiful girls who I stood a better chance with. No, I insisted, it had to be the little Pink Barrette Gallery Neo Vino Girl. Even my saying I wanted to fuck her in the most humiliating way possible added nothing to the value of my desire in the eyes of my friends.
Before becoming too drunk I cut myself off and went to my room to take my pre-work nap.
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