Dear Diary. Nothing Happened.

Dear Diary,

I've been drinking a lot lately.

I've been drinking almost every day this week.

I drank yesterday. I drank two days ago, and I am even drinking right now.

Now Diary, I've only had two beers so far tonight. So I am still of sober mind. So don't go thinking this blog post is one of those rambling drunken posts with no connection to reality.

Even though I am sure I am going to ramble a bit.

I just cracked open my third beer. The third beer was a can. Bud. The second was a bottle of Bud, and so was my first beer.

I bought a six pack of Ultra just before closing time. I need to get fewer calories in me as I am eating chocolate gold fish from Pepperidge Farm.

(They are delish!)

I know that last comment was a little gay, but fuck it.

A word to the wise man, Dear Diary. Drinking Budweiser and chewing on graham crackers goes well with Eric Clapton. I am thinking specifically of the live album he cut on MTV.

My beer is warm.

I think I need to keep drinking it though.

At least the drinking will keep me from thinking about Detroit.

Though sometimes drinking leads to Detroit. And drinking and Detroit lead me to public masturbation.

People are against public masturbation.

I ate some Whataburger tonight.

Diary, did you know there were lots of hot chicks at Whataburger around midnight?

Well, there are.

I stared at one of them while watching the latest episode of 24 on my mobile phone.

The girl I stared at was very pretty.

And she was sitting with her boyfriend and it seemed to me that the guy was not all that special.

Actually, I noticed almost all the girls who had boyfriends had boyfriends that were way below what you might expect those girls to be able to get.

It's strange when you notice people.

The more you pay attention the more things you see.

Most of those things make you feel weird.

I was looking at the boyfriends for a while. The thing I noticed most about them was how unselfconscious they were.

Even though (it seemed to me) they had plenty of reasons to worry.

I've read that ignorance is bliss.

I think at one point the girl I was really digging noticed how brazen my staring had become.

(I was just thinking how nice it would be to have such a pretty girlfriend. Plus when you have a gf you can stare at her all you want. You can stare in her eyes and trace her freckles and chicks just think you are being sweet and all and not creepy or weird like.)

So the girl notices me and points me out to her boyfriend (who doesn't really even look over) and I just turn my eyes away and start paying more attention to Jack Bauer.

Jack's friend is being raped by some Russian asshole who acts tuff by throwing a glass against a wall.

I think about throwing my plastic cup half full of Sprite. I think about bouncing my Sprite off the trash can. I wonder what the group of college kids would do if they saw me do that.

There's a lot of them.

[College Kids]

I think they would call the cops on me.

{college kids call the cops}

The girl I am staring at has nice hair.

Her hair is up in some killer swept up hair do. She is broad smiling and sharing parts of her burger with her boyfriend.

It seems to me she is really playing up the whole, "I've got a bf so you can stop staring at me" thing.

There is another girl at Whataburger that would knock your socks off. That is if you saw her, Diary.

She is tall.

Skinny in her tight jeans.

She had amazing curly hair that was frosted blond.

Her hair was REALLY frosted at the top. I think the stylist may have fucked that part up. Somehow she worked it and it made her look older and more sophisticated as she tossed french fries at dinner companions.

Her dinner companions were two Asian girls and three "surfer" teen boys.

The teen boys were studded with acne and large flat rimed hats. The boys cocked the hats that sat on their heads sideways.

Most of the fries tossed by the pretty blond missed their target and ended up on the ground.

The Asian girls weren't that pretty.

But I would have fucked them.