ihavebeenfloated

My eyelids are getting very droopy. That’s usually the signal that it’s a good time to pour out my thoughts into this wonderous gutter of mine.

Or something.

I just got home from a “party” about forty minutes ago. I put the word party in quote marks because even though it was a party, I wouldn’t consider it was. I have to question myself, of course, because I have to wonder I think a party should be. Personally, what I was at tonight was a total bust. I don’t know what I expect, really, but nothing is satisfying it.

So what do I want? What is my grand vision of a party? Is it really anything different from what happened tonight, or is my vision more about how I react to the party and not so much what it is? There’s a few things, like I could use a group of people I actually get on with, a group I can relate to and talk to about things that mutually interest all of us. That would help. Further than that? Cute chicks who aren’t slutty disease bags or uppity bitches. That would be nice, too. I’d like a crowd of people who either (1) celebrate getting ridiculously fucking wasted, or (2) downplay it and don’t even drink the alcohol, and actually try to find ways to have “drunk fun” without getting drunk. What this means I’m not sure.

I found a number of things at this party tonight wanting. The women were ridiculous, ranging from short stupid bitches who, although loaded and going to college, might as well be sixteen; gorgeous almost model like babes, vapid as all hell, with an equally vapid and gorgeous guy on their arm; and the one token chick who was neither here nor there but was most certainly not desirable. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not some prowler looking for a quick lay or anything, but fuck at least give me a chick I can carry on a decent conversation with. No dice.

I didn’t feel like getting drunk without prior pass out arrangements, and I didn’t much feel like passing out in my car in this neighborhood. So, the drunkeness was no go. As it was everyone was drinking shitty beer (yay for Bud Select) and kicking back mixed drinks with comical names (highlight of the evening for everyone was “Dirty Pussy” which several had served to them in Mexico, truly a classic) and no one really getting particularly drunk. That was until this skinny white guy and this skinny tan girl got a bit tipsy and just kept repeating “IRISH!” to each other and highfiving. Then they went outside and started fighting, full on wrestling. They brought it in and started fighting on top of the pool table. Finally she grabbed his boxers for a wedgie, and he got ahold of her tiny little black string g-string and yanked it pretty much up to her shoulders.

That was mildly amusing, but not as much as it was terrifying out of fear that they might actually hurt each other and then the night would take that decidedly darker turn.

I left after that. I had hung around for five hours and I had enough. I was starting to get a headache from the one can of beer I was nursing all evening, and the cigarettes that I felt like I was chainsmoking (even though I had a relatively conservative amount, it was enough to make my mouth feel like a desert and my head like hamster who had just been thrown down a bowling lane in a ball). In those mere five hours I managed to have absolutely no decent conversations with anyone about anything of any importance, I played a little blackjack and even a smaller amount of poker, a decent amount of pool, learn how to throw a decent punch properly, and stand back away from the crowd and have deeply introspective thoughts about nothing at all.

Mostly I thought about what I’m going to do tomorrow today.

It might be terribly important.

It might be a total bust.

But I don’t care. I know that no matter what I do, and brace yourself for this one because it’s good ol’ pompous arrogant jack ass speech, I’m better than 89% of the people who were at that party and I am more fufilled sitting on my ass picking my nose all alone in the dark than I am standing around with a bunch of people who I could fuck and backstab on the same day and not give a shit while drinking shitty beer and down-playing my shitty life and trying to exude, fuck, grasping desperately for that overwhelming feeling of Godliness that is handed down to people who feel important to the masses.

Or something.

Fuck, whatever. I’m going to sleep.

lyric of the day:
I wanna take you out tonight
Punches would be rolling
Blood it would be flowing
I can’t fight

So bring your lovin’ back here
Bring your lovin’ back here
Bring your lovin’ back here
Bring your lovin’ back here