Should I really get Butch Stroll on your ass? Should I give the bitter, nasty little experiences that make Stroll, Stroll? On the Internet I am always terrified that someone will know it's me on these little things, message boards and blogs and the like, and I want total anonymity. So I can really get things off my chest that no one in my life could ever be told, or really understand if they were. I don't have an email address capable of being found, I don't think, and I don't imagine it likely somone would come across this on a randomish search, what, with BILLIONS of pages on the Internet and I ain't talkin' about anything specific around here.
Yet, these things have been known to happen.
Anyway, right now, I am jacked up, meaning, I have taken three speed pills to drive five hours on my return from Cape Cod, affectionately known as "The Cape", which I find kind of irritating. There are many capes after all. The point is, speed = chatty. Or typey as it were. Longwinded. Bare with me.
The drive up was perfection. We snorted cocaine along the way. I had to stop to pee like 5 times. There was little resistance to Courtney Love CD's, but she was generally accepted. Modest Mouse on the other hand only got a couple songs. Then there was a fair share of their music.
"The Cape" (you know which one I'm talking about) is really beautiful. However, it is very family oriented, and there's not a lot of people around, especially this time of year. So while it is good to get out of the city, even if only for one full day and two fun road-trip days, it is really kind of boring. Not that my time there was boring, but the place itself - boring as all hell. It is the waspiest place on earth. What I'm generally looking for in a vacation is the Dark Underbelly, aka The Butch Stroll. Every place has one, no matter how small, the place where sex, drugs, and metaphorical rock n' roll converge. I can always find them. Given more time and time alone I could have in Cape Cod.
K & I left T at home and went thrift shopping a little. They have a little brochure made up for "Touring the Thrift Shops of Cape Cod". We also went to TJ Maxx, where I stole a pair of pants. The two nights we were there, there was a variety of drug use and a lot of drinking. That's about the extent of it.
Then we drove back today, they slept for a long part of the way, and I high-tailed it back to City limits. We had a delay due to traffic on the highway at several points and a moment of being lost within miles of being home. Which is ironic, I think.
My roommate came home and we talked for a little bit--well, actually, a lot bit since I went into Chatty Cathy mode and talked his ear off. I somehow got onto the subject of this research study I was in a while back, and the doctors who I continue to see because of the problem, and how I'm something of a charity case in there since the insurance doesn't cover all of it, and how I'm ready to smash the institution of medicine with an iron fist. The area has been bothering me lately, but I'm not sure what the problem is.
Because I am bouncing off the walls, I may call in to work tomorrow. I probably will.
I told K that I might go out, and she was surpisingly all about it. Then I kind of got relaxed at home, though I'm still considering an outing. So I kind of called it off. I think she wanted to get some cocaine, anyway, which would have really put me over the top. Besides, K describes herself as sluggish, so I'm not sure she'd be into the kind of night that I would be into, which would entail being a lot more energetic. She also is admittedly clumsy. I'm no ballarina myself, but The Butch Stroll don't do clumsy.
In short, it is now approaching midnight, what I like to call "The Bitching Hour", and the one thing I need to do before all other considerations is shower. I've been having some irritating skin issues lately so I want to scrub myself clean, contort myself into the necessary positions, and do a full inspection. If I can't be beautiful, can't I at least have beautiful skin?
All this no doubt makes me sound like an all around horrible person. I just want people who come here to know who they're dealing with.
I may never sleep.