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Ow, my fucking head

Bond18 There’s no reason for me to be hung over. I wasn’t even that drunk last night. I sat around the casino for hours waiting to sober up drinking water and eating food so I could drive home legally, constantly going back to the breathalyzer machine hoping it’d read .05. I mean seriously .05, you pussy ass Australians, where I come from its .1, I thought you people were a nation of drunks and moderately proud of that? Where’s your national sense of adventure?

Despite being exhausted when I got home I was awake in bed for at least half an hour. I got to sleep somewhere around 6am. I woke up at 8:30am feeling like hell. My insides feel like they are on fire. My eyes are blood shot and bleary but I can’t seem to fall back asleep. My feet hurt something awful. I need to get more comfortable brown shoes. I don’t have the energy to bring the glass of water in front of me to my mouth. I seem able to type though.

Sure any day you start drinking at 3pm probably won’t end well. At least I did not end up at my friends house at 6am doing lines of coke like some of my other mates did. I imagine they are still up. I don’t do drugs, except marijuana of course. Perhaps I should smoke some now? I’ve never tried other drugs though I have nothing against those who partake. I actually find it all rather amusing to watch, and it often makes for great writing material.

The girl I’m seeing left me a note before she left yesterday morning for work. It sits behind my keyboard. It reads “Don’t forget to take Medicine. Hope you getting better today. Miss Ya XoXo xxxxxxxxxxx” She has drawn hearts instead of dots over the ‘I’s’. That means she’s not a transvestite. That and she doesn’t have a penis. Microsoft word wants me to turn the ‘doesn’t’ in the previous sentence into ‘don’t’ but I’m almost positive that’s incorrect. She’s a sweet girl though. She comes over and cooks and cleans for me, despite my telling her “Damn it woman, I have a cleaner for that!” She did my laundry the other day, some if it is lying outside hoping to dry out. It’s currently raining. I’m not going to do anything about it. I did not follow her instructions though. I did not get better. I feel like I might vomit. I don’t get it; I was fine when I went to sleep. Seriously. I did not see her last night. It was the first New Years Eve I didn’t have sex in quite some time. 2009 can go fuck itself. 2008 was a pretty good year; I got considerably richer through a combination of absurd swapping luck and a work ethic so obsessive it had the power to ruin a relationship. I’m not bragging here, but it’s nice to know nobody can ever fuck with me again.

I’d like to continue on that thought as long as I’m rambling. While I won’t get into numbers I now have enough money that I feel like nobody can ever fuck with me again, at 24. I’m not rich in the sense that I can buy a big house and a Ferrari and live like a balla for the rest of my life, but I don’t ever have to take some job I hate ever again. I’m a nit with my money really, I stick it in the bank in term deposits and CD’s looking for the lowest variance approach possible. I don’t ever have to take shit from anyone ever again. If I write my book and all the publishers I submit it to tell me they want to heavily edit the content I can tell them to all go fuck themselves and release it for free and not care about the loss of income. I won’t tell them to go fuck themselves because it’s unprofessional and you shouldn’t burn bridges like that, but I know I’ll be thinking it.

I remember when I was 17 and worked as a shoe salesman at ‘Finish Line’. God it was the worst job. I wanted to tell my boss to go fuck himself more than anything in the world, but I needed the income. That and I didn’t have the spine at 17. Now I don’t ever have to take an order from any asshole ever again (outside rather obvious people of authority such as police and government.) I never really wanted to be very wealth or powerful or influential. I don’t care. I’d rather have total authority over my time and my health, that’s all I want. Health is way more important than most people my age understand. I’m 24 and I feel my own mortality. When I talk to people back home they are talking about their careers. Some are talking about marriage and children. I think one friend from high school is already a dad and it was planned. The first girlfriend I ever had has had two kids already. It was in 5th grade and I had to be dared to hug her. She broke up with me for Ben Maggio. Fucking Maggio. He was a nice guy though; I think he plays quite a bit of poker these days. I bet I could beat him heads up. Perhaps that would impress my twice impregnated ex from 14 years ago?

I want to go back to talking about health though. I’ve dished out a lot of advice in this blog, but if I could impart just one piece to everyone who reads this it’s to take care of your health. You only get one body. You won’t be young forever. If you work out you’ll look and feel better. Clothes will fit better. You’ll fuck better. You’ll live longer. You greatly reduce your chances of health complications down the road. You really want diabetes you stupid mother fucker? I didn’t think so. Go to the gym. They say you don’t know what you got until it’s gone. Don’t find out the hard way when it comes to your health. I met this guy in a bar in the Dominican Republic once who had a theory about life. He was quite drunk. He wrote it all down on a napkin for me, which I kept for some time. He wrote that happiness in life is wealth plus time divided by health and elaborated that you could have everything in life but if you’re laid up in a hospital bed none of it has any value. Then he started rambling about some Dominican girl he’d met recently. “God she was SO fucking black!” he bellowed excitedly. Some guy at another table asked him to please keep it down and take it easy. Then the napkin guy went off and called the other guys chick fat and nearly got himself in a fight. The girls name was Rhonda. Rhonda’s do seem to be pretty big chicks.

Man that trip to the Dominican Republic was ridiculous. Prostitutes would walk the beaches at night and come up to us teenagers and gesture towards their mouth saying “Goma Goma!” They asked to come to my room and sleep with me. I did my best to explain in very broken Spanish that I had no desire to sleep with them. I remember one night this guy I met got jumped by a fat prostitute on the beach who stole his glasses. He was small and wasted and agreed to pay $50 to get his glasses back. After he gave her the money she dropped them on the ground and broke them with her foot and ran off. I fooled around with a girl for my very first time on that trip. I didn’t pay for it. It was awesome. A year later her giant father would catch her in my room at 5:45am when I was staying in their house and threatened to kill me. I’ll remember his exact words for the rest of my life: “YOU THINK YOU WORK OUT WELL LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING; IT’D TAKE ME ABOUT 12 SECONDS TO BREAK YOUR NECK!!!” This triggered a massive family fight between the father, daughter, and mother, with the mother screaming “WAAAAAAAAAAAAYNE! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” while I stood there terrified. I did not sleep well that night. The things we do for a piece of tail, though I never had sex with her. Seven years later she still IM’s me sometimes, but only to ask who I vote for and then tell me I’m “everything that’s wrong with this country” for not voting Republican. I remember once in college I got super drunk and convinced her to send me naked pictures. Sweet.

I think that’s enough for now. I’ve been writing for like an hour. I’m going to go crawl into bed and see if I can sleep. If I can’t I guess I’ll just start playing tournaments at 11am. Happy New Years mother fuckers. I’ve been watching Chapelle’s show again.

Edit: Fuck it, tournament time.


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