I vomited last night, and I don't know why you aren't huffing Pledge

Last night I drank at the bar where I met my fat lady friend.  She wasn't there, but her friend was.  Her friend is a mountain of a woman.  A beast.  A brick.  Three hundred pounds.  Over six feet tall.  She is going bald.  But she has an almost sweet voice which contrasts with everything else about her.

She walked over to me at the bar a few times, "just to say hi."

Sweet really.  Very mannered.  I really didn't reply much.  It felt awkward talking to her because I was worried that Megan would call up her friend and have her come down.  Then I would have probably ended up having sex and my plan to distance myself from any relationship with my FAT lady friend would go down the tubes.

Lucky for me Megan had no such intentions.  She was plastered and singing songs along with the rest of the Karaoke performers.  Megan had another friend with her who was as drunk as anyone I have ever seen at a bar.  The woman looked familiar to me, but it might  just be because she is sister to the person I am thinking of.

I contemplated having sex with both of the girls after they came over to say hi.  But I thought it unwise.  Perhaps I just wasn't drunk enough though later that night I would be drunk enough to huff Pledge.

Pledge gets you high as fuck, and makes masturbating more fun than having sex with the unattractive or viciously drunk women I meet in bars.  I highly recommend hufffing furniture cleaner.  It's very cheap.  Makes one disassociate, amps your dick and multiplies the orgasm.

Some side effects include a ringing in the ear, loss of balance.  Memory problems.  Loss of brain cells.  Panic.  Headaches.  A full litany would include the tense body and grinding teeth.  But none of the symptoms are much worse than drinking.

I don't remember drinking enough to cause myself to puke last night, but I must have.   At least I made it in the toilet.  A really nasty vomit.  Not sure if it was the chicken wings which I ate earlier in the day.  Of course it could have been the Autistic boy  who sneezed on me like six times at the meal.  So many times that at one point I found myself gagging from the thought of his spittle on me.

Now  I know what you guys are thinking.  Romius, please don't huff chemicals.  They are bad for you.  Oh please.  First I drank.  Then I smoked what was left in my roommates pipe.  Some grunge Weed.  Good stuff that got me fucking high.  But not insanely high.  Just really fucked up.  I needed something that would make me go to the next level.  Since I am not doing e much anymore and I don't have any coke or meth it's all I have.

I figure pledge is less harmful than butane.

Who knows?

The thing I like about huffing is it makes you crazy.  You want to rape girls, you want to curse, and cut off your balls.  I've started seeing shapes and things out the corner of my eyes.  Not bugs.  People I think.  But they are never there when I turn around.  I am hoping I will hear voices.  I have always wanted to hear voices.  And huffing makes masturbating for days afterwards really awesome.  I don't even have to huff very much.  I guess I am very sensitive to the chemicals, because the high is supposed to last a few minutes, but can last hours with me.  Also the next day I am stiff feeling effects.  Laughter comes very easily.  Sometimes my mood is lifted for days afterwards too.

The ringing in my left ear is bugging me today though.  But it's not like I have anything to live for.  I am trapped in a cycle of poverty.  I am indebted to student loans to a total of 25% of my salary for life,  and the government is suing me for back taxes.  I don't have a car.  I have gained 20 pounds from all the sugar water I drink.  My ingrown toenail is still here, two years and counting.  I owe my doctors a ton of money so I can't go back to them to get it taken care of.  The sebaceous cyst on my head is growing again.  In the daylight my baldness is too apparent.  I think I have developed hemorrhoids in addition to all the other digestive tract problems I have. I don't have a car, I am having sex with fat women I am not attracted to.  I haven't read a book in months.  Maybe years.  I can't remember anymore.  I am bored.  I've never been bored before.  I spend way too much money drinking at bars trying to fuck bartenders that are way out of my league (that's when I am not chasing women half my age that are disgusted by my aging body, my old man smell, the creepy way I am dying from AIDS without having the virus.)

Shit like this makes you want to get religion.  But religion is a waste of time.  Dear TIMSCOOL> I think I owe you a response to a very long comment.  Still haven't written it.  But I will say that I think you presume God.  And everything you think follows from that presumption.  But we can't presume GOD.

We can presume the ugliness and emptiness of the world because it is all god has shown us.  She hides in the shadows.  I haven't enough light in my life to look for her.

But I don't want to be rescued.

Not by god.  Not by a good job.  Not by a positive outlook on life.  You guys are fools for believing that crap.  "Life is what you make it."

Listening to that shit is what probably made me puke last night.

Drugs are not the answer either.  I am not Hunter S. Thompson.  I am no evangelist for that movement.  I do them sometimes.  When I want.  Who the fuck knows why?  There is no self that is in control.  There is no responsibility to a greater purpose.   I don't control my life.  I make no decisions.  There is no I.  Show me HIM.  I demand it!!!

why u no suffer from cognitive dissonance? 

My life is no different than all of yours.  You don't give a shit either.  You watch TV and take care of kids.  Big fucking deal.  There is no purpose there either.  You stand in line, you buy postage stamps, your whole lives are devoted to the set of principles that there are no principles.  We are the 1% of the world.  We are decadent.  We should suffer more for our sins.  We should bleed.

But we do nothing like that.  We are timid, fearful creatures.  You so disgust me.  I so disgust you.  I so disgust myself.  I will wallow in suffering.  I will.  It is all we can do, even in my suffering, even in my wallows, I will follow the news of ICE CREAM SANDWICH.  I still fucking care about cellphones. I still ignore the retarded evil that is our existence.  Screams at my 1% do nothing.  I am mockery.

Where is the Guillotine, brother?

You fucking middle class bastards!  You fucking poor people.  You fucking poor people with your Western Union pick ups.  Mom sends you 20 dollars and you buy cigarettes????

Ask a friend for a pack!  Why must you bother me for such navel Gazingselfishness!

I want to kill all those people!  I want to write a letter telling you that Herman Cain was right.  BLAME YOUR FUCKKING SELVESSS for christ sakes!!!!

I hate your poverty.  Clean up.  Buy a dog.  Dress it in costumes.  Sell out you useless fucks.

I'm going to drink now.  Maybe I will take my pink netbook to the bar, and write more for you.  Not that you deserve it. STAY ASLEEP BROTHER   who neeeeeeds u?