lordofthelocusts

I fucking hate going to bars.

Five dollars for a watered-down jack and coke; thank god I was stoned or that place would have been completely unbearable.

I really don't mind doing the wingman thing, especially for a friend of mine. He's getting laid tonight, and I'm glad for him, really. But fuck! I spent the whole night talking to this one girl, she seemed into me, then as we're leaving I say,

"Hey, can I have your number?" Simple, maybe a little direct, but nothing commital.

"No."

Thing was, I almost didn't go out tonight, and I told myself it was going to suck, but...really, the only way to describe tonight is, Imagine you're getting a deep tissue massge, the best, most relaxing massage you've ever had. The masseuse finishes, and you're just feeling great but then the masseuse says that she has one more thing for you...

...and that's when she straps on a steel-toed boot and kicks you in the testicles.

I'm going to bed.