violencejack

Today was a friend of mine's 24th birthday. Since she lives about a half hour drive from the clubs, I agreed to let her come to my place so I could drive her while she got drunk. We went to a club I haven't been to before and listened to some local metal bands. The music made me want to break things. So, I took a break and went to a different club for a while and had some rum and cokes with a side of blues to soothe my savage beast. Then I went back and listened to another metal band that was more my style. After last call she puked pretty pink bahama mama all over the club's carpet. Way to celebrate your 24th, eh? I feel so bad for the people who have to clean that mess.
I can only think of one time in my life that I drank until I puked. Most of the time I am perfectly happy to DD.
I think this is the basic gist of why I am so antisocial. Friends call you when you want to be alone, drag you out to places you don't want to go, smoke and make your eyes water, play the music too loud, and generally disrupt the peaceful and pleasant life I lead. Oh, and sometimes they puke pink goo all over the floor and you have to apologize for them.
Remind me again why I want to have friends?

Update: This morning I went to starbucks to get some coffee for my guest. While I stood in line I watched a string of mustangs, corvettes, and other expensive sports cars go throught the drive through window one by one. Each carried an overly made-up blonde in designer clothes. Just watching these trophies pass through made me a bit ill. Does anyone else find rich people a little sickening?