mikael

I vomited horribly last night. Dry heaves, bile, then finally fecal matter - at least that's what it tasted like.

The roomate invited over five buddies last night around midnight. Evidently they had just come from the bar. Fucking chatches, every single one of them. It's funny how the roommate never hangs out with women. Ever. He sits around and looks at his Penthouse and his Hustler, all the while complaining that he never gets laid.

"That's your problem," I said to him. "Doesn't that sound like objectification -- the way you THINK women should be? Don't you know that women like to be treated like living beings, and not just dick slots? If you TALKED to a woman, you'd probably at least get to first base, maybe more."

"Dude, you're such a fag. All the chicks you hang out with have metal in their face and are all brainy, artsy-fartsy lesbians."

"But you LIKE lesbians! Look at your fucking crusty Hustler! And as far as brainy 'chicks', yes! I like hanging out with people that can teach me something," I retorted. I was honestly waiting for him to say something negatory about Les, but he knew better.

Not that I'd hit ANYBODY under normal circumstances, but the vodka and whiskey in my stomach were starting a brawl of their own, and that was just making me anxious.

So he continued, "Dude, I like the lesbians that can also take two dudes at once."

It was at this point that I deduced that he and every single one of his friends are 25 year-old virgins.

"So, you'd rather see penises than vaginas and boobs? "

"Duuuuuude... Fuck you! Uncalled for!"

But I think that was a correct assumption on my part. In any case, I definitely hit a nerve.

"All I'm trying to say is, we have far too many dudes coming over here every weekend. The house gets trashed, the place smells like a lockeroom, and football is on ALL THE DAMN TIME. How do you ever expect to ever see a real-live vagina that you don't have to pay for???"

I made my case, but all he could do was say "Fuck you," and go outside to smoke.

I have a feeling that he cries himself to sleep while humping his pillow every night. I just don't get it.

With Les in bed, I just kept drinking. Having relinquished my spot on the sofa for three perfecltly coiffed, Tommy-reeking chatches, I sat in the corner of the living room brooding and not even trying to be social. The conversation was shallow and mostly monosyallbic with an occasional ape-like group-hoot. The television flipped back and forth between Sports Center and Skinemax. College football highlights to disgusting, scarred, fake tits. I honestly thought that I left this shit behind in college.

Vodka and vermouth were my companions, yet they too betrayed me before the night was up.


I've come to the conclusion that I'm surrounding myself with the wrong people. Thank goodness Friday night was the ultimate exception. It's amazing, the contrast between Friday and Saturday nights this week.

I used to think that everyone had validty, and everyone's point of view was worth something. Not anymore. Because even though I try to see everything in an even light, the vast majority of people do not. Derision and strong opinons (not to mention the eagerness to voice them) are what makes this culture so stifling. Stifilng to everyone, whether they have the insight to see it or not. Sheeple.

This is what I was thinking as my face hovered above the piss-encrusted porcelain and my own stinking gastric fluids. Something has to change.