I was resigned to the fact that I was going to spend the holidays lying around my parent’s house sulking and mopping because Mark is going to blow me off every night for some old bitch. (And why do I care? Mark is an asshole. A lying, alcoholic asshole.) But if I am just sitting around doing nothing every night, I know myself, and I know I will start thinking about how much fun I would be having if I was out getting drunk with that asshole and then I’ll get depressed about how he’s moved on and I am just sitting on my parents couch eating Christmas cookies missing him. That is what I had resigned myself to...
But then I got invited to go sailing from Fort Lauderdale to the Bahamas. And even though it’s going to cost a shitload of money I don’t have and will use up all of my vacation time, I decided fuck it, you only live once. I mean, can you think of a better way to ring in the New Year than stumbling down a beach somewhere in the Bahamas with a cocktail in one hand and a little bit of mysterious dried throw-up on your shirt? Ok, so maybe I could do with out the mysterious puke, but other than that, it’s all good.
2 comments:
sounds damn fun. I should do something similar. Instead, I'll probably just rub one out and go to bed.
I knew a girl name cookie once. She was a crack whore who gave everyone she touched the clap. (APPLAUSE!!!?) I bet they both have it and are super itchy.
For the record, I do not use the term crack whore in a deragatory way. I simply mean crack as a space between two objects, and whore as someone who works it, baby. I respect both things.
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