Live blogging my day off from work, which is productive, if by productive you mean I decide to become addicted to beer and write about it for you

I know I should be doing something on my day off that does not include watching the mail box for my Netflix, yelling at the subway guy for forgetting to include bell peppers on my Italian sub, but I don't.

What I actually do all day is watch TV on the computer and try and decide how early it would be OK to go out drinking. I know it takes money to drink and I just found some. I just looked online at my insurance policy and confirmed it does not expire until the 18th and since I get paid on the 17th that means I have an extra 60 dollars that I use on beer.

Now all I have to do is make sure I get up early on the 17th to collect my paycheck and deposit it time to get back home and pay my car insurance online and before I head off to work, because those are the kind of problems that I work on all day when you are feeding your children, or donating blood, or working at getting people to boycott unions, or whatever people like you think is a good way to spend your time, which I always assumed meant going to that cult you call a church that meets in the strip mall.

I watched a movie last night about cocaine and it make me appreciate the sullen, drug infested life style that I have chosen over the pink mini vans and pumpkin pie that is your life. In the movie the main character tries to come up with a reason to save the life of his girl friend who is dying from an overdose. He talks to himself and comes to the realization that his feelings for her do not include love. Since he is not in love with her he decides to pay for a cab to pick up her lifeless body and drop her off at the hospital. Well at least I assume it was the hospital, the movie does not make it very clear where the girl is being sent to.

The movie is set in Florida and I can tell you that it was really obvious that the writer, director understood white trash and addiction. Of course I am too silly of a person to become addicted to heroin and I have no idea how to get cocaine, unless you count me asking the cabbie who drives me to the local dive bar, "if he has any he'd like to sell me because I am working on a book idea." The book idea is me getting drunk and high and writing about whatever stuff happens. [Update: let's go ahead and add me trying to get laid all the time]

So far today all that has happened is I am waiting for the mail man to drop off my movies while I suffer through the occasional impulse to buy a few beers from the supermarket. Maybe I will and afterwards I will go to the local bar and have a few more beers because I don't have to work until 6 pm tomorrow.

I hope you can appreciate all the shit I am willing to go through just to give you something new to read about everyday. I am willing to become an alcoholic for you. I am willing to get mocked when I try to buy drugs just to have something to write about because trying to come up with fictional plot ideas is too hard and developing a narrative for my book is a waste of time.

***

I think going to buy that 18 pack of beer was a waste as well. I am getting hungry again. I need to finish off the second half of my foot long subway sandwich. Beer and subway do not mix though.

I DRIVE TO GET BEER AND THAT WOULD BE EXCITING IF TOLD BY A GOOD AUTHOR BUT YOU HAVE ME INSTEAD....
On the way to buy beer I let a fat girl pushing two kids in a stroller cross the street when I could have easily cut her off. In fact my act of generosity was not so kind to my intendee as it caused her to have to speed up a bit and maneuver around my truck to get to the sidewalk.

At the next stop light I checked out a girl in a blue Honda who smiled at me shyly, once she figured out that I was not blocking the sun out with my hand but giving her a come on.

At the dollar store I stopped for peanuts. (nothing says sad like drinking at home with the 99 cent bag of honey roasted peanuts from the dollar store you bought because you were too cheap to pay 3.00 dollars for peanuts at the pharmacy, which you drove to because the supermarket that you work for is too cheap to price match the beer special on the ad you brought in to convince your manager that you were serious about buying some beer and serious about getting beer from the competition if the price could not come down.)

Inside the dollar store a young woman walked up to me and said something like, "Dear young sir, you look like you are really strong do you think you could open this for me?" Then she held up a bottle of soda up to me for me to open, which I did without much effort, so she may be in fact be correct that I am strong.

I purchased a pair of scissors to clip my nose hair (long overdue some would say as both of my other pairs of nose hair clippers are dull and I have since been using the attachment to my beard clipper which I think we all know does not work as well as advertised) along with a pair of tweezers for plucking any extraneous hair around the body (not needed as badly, but what the hell for 99 cents I got both items shrink wrapped together.)

I still have a few hours before I go out drinking and I will blog about my fun night out on the town, so stop by throughout the night to check on my progress getting shit faced and having sex with a fat chick or an ugly chick or if you are the girl I brought home tonight and are reading this as part of some kind of seduction scam on my part-- the really lucky for me-- cute as hell chick-- who I hope won't remember where I live unless you actually are cute then you probably won't want to call me, but if you are into pity sex then so am I.
***
9:05 p.m.

The beer I bought is still warm even though I grabbed the 18 pack out of the cooler section. I stuck a couple of beers in the freezer and messaged a few friends about how I am going to get drunk without them. One (the ex who broke up with me on Google) replied that I should just stay home and date on the Internet.

So maybe I should. Go to a few chat rooms. For some reason I am dreading going out to a bar now and sitting alone and drinking beer. Not that I want to call any of my friends because I don't feel like hanging with them either. It is useless to drink at any of the bars near my house, ( I still don't drink and drive y'all) because single women are afraid to go to these bars alone. I am not sure I am interested in hooking up with a chick anyway, as right now I don't feel like seeming interesting to other people, or trying to convert them to communism either.

I am on the first beer. It is not exactly cold, but not warm either. I bought a cozy for beer bottles a while back and I am pumped about using it. I am listening to my MP3 player on my roommates karaoke player, because I bought an adapter that allows my mp3 player to play in just about any audio system/ I am so pumped about using it that I am not listening to my music through the computer speakers even though I have all the music on my Phillips MP3 player on my I-tunes. Because I am a dork like that. I know I am dork because my ex ends every text message she sends me with the phrase, "you are a dork." She is not wrong about these things.

* random* dork thought** random on my MP3 player means the same 3 songs. The same 3 bands. The machine picks 3 different songs and bands each time I use the random function like it gets tired of hearing the same thing, but isn't really committed to the hard work of really being random.

I found out a few days ago that my ex "thought of us" as dating when we were seeing each other which is news to me as I only remember her falling all over herself attempting to deny me as her boyfriend anytime anyone ever asked if he were dating.

One annoying little factor about having my stereo on in the living room is that I have to get up and manually change the song every time the random feature on my player selects a podcast or a shitty song. Like right now. BRB.

9:27

Update on Star Snacks version of Honey Roasted peanuts. They suck.
Update on 99 cent store scissors for nose hair clipping. They suck.

The peanuts are very salty. You can see the salt. The salt crystals are nearly as large as the peanuts themselves which is to say I am note sure if that means the salt is large or the peanuts are just small though my initial reaction was that the peanuts where small and tasted like cork that a bee shit in.

*currently listening to the "soul doctor" by foreigner.

An underrated tune I must say. I really liked the three bonus songs that came with the greatest hits album. I am only mildly ashamed by this admission. Did I mention I am drinking Bud Light rather than Bud Select because CVS does not have Select in 18 packs just 6 packs? The CVS girl asked me how many beers it takes for me to get drunk. I told her 15 which I think she mistook as me being unwilling to share my beer with her. Which is not true. She was cute enough for me to share my beer with. I was just trying to sound hard. Her reaction? She said, "I hope not that many." I tried to fix her distress by reinforcing the idea that I was joking about the drinking. "Oh, maybe 14." I tell her. I totally blew that one guys. Sorry. You may never get a blog about me having sex.

10:16

I am on my second beer. I have decided to choose an album to listen to rather than staying with the random function. I day dreamed that I went to the bar and met a girl who wanted me to read her my blog on her laptop. I imagined the whole crowd at the bar listening to me as I proof read what I have written. At the appropriate time I heard imaginary laughter in my head to all my jokes. I once read that people who day dream crowds of people cheering for them are people who crave attention and acceptance.

I am beginning to warm to the idea of going to the bar. That means I will have to leave you for a while. I think the beer is starting to work, but it is clear to me that it really is my imagination that is making me more comfortable with drinking at a bar tonight. Some part of me really believes that people can't wait see me now.

10:22

I just thought I would update you in live time.

I jam to $ign of the 4.

10:26 Live Blogging MySpace

I decide to live blog my attempts on MySpace Messenger inside their chat rooms. I message a 51 year old woman because she is from Phoenix. She does not respond.

Three of the people in the chat room are from Phoenix. This is rare.

Dr. Kristina claims to be a real doctor. I ask Dr. Kristina if, "pooping yellow is bad?" She refuses to reply.

10:35

Chatting is lame.

10:39

I copy and paste the blog for the chat room. Here is the reaction.

fany7892: kool

wildfire200734yahoocom: your cool

romius t: y thank u

romius t : u just got added to the live blog for thinking i am cool

wildfire200734yahoocom: your cool

rommie: u too wild fire!!!

wildfire200734yahoocom: thanks

rommie: yw

10:44

Chatting is still lame.

I am now listening to B.B. King. I am on beer number 4 as beer number 3 is full of ice and is now thawing on the kitchen counter.

11:21

I am the hit of chat rooms everywhere. I am beloved. The whole world should be chat. I am so fucking cool. All the chicks love me because I talk trash and I ask is they have big preggo bellies!