At Least I Don't Have Worms...

A few weeks back I was nearly convinced that my luck was changing, and surprisingly, for the better. I don't gamble, but I waged a single dollar for 3 lucky rolls of the dice and low and behold, I won just over two grand. The following day I negotiated with the keeper of my things and got my storage rental fee lowered $20 per month. And there you have it, the longest run of good luck I've ever had, or ever will.

Yesterday my car was totalled with me in it. Fear not, I am alright, the usual strains and soreness associated with a pretty major car wreck. My poor little Saturn, on the other hand, is smashed to pieces. Oddly enough, one of my good friends was involved in a separate wreck mere hours after mine, and she too, walked away nearly unscathed. So maybe my luck is still hanging on.

I had been invited to a party Saturday night, but didn't go because I had a bad feeling about something, I thought perhaps it was the party. So I didn't go. Instead the Scumbag and I went out for a few drinks. I don't suppose that I can really call him the Scumbag anymore. For those of you who are not familiar, I feel that a proper introduction is necessary. Blog Readers, The D Team, aka the Scumbag, aka, the Phantom, aka, my Drinking Buddy. I've known The D Team since high school, and happened to run into him again last year. We began hanging out and drinking quite heavily together and having a great time. Until the one night we drank too much and messed around. Somewhere along the line we decided we were dating...I don't know what the hell we were thinking. Surprisingly enought THAT didn't work out and after a brief period of not speaking, we became drinking buddies again. Then friends with benefits, and now we live in sin. On the way to the bar we narrowly missed being creamed by some idiot running a red light. Then, Sunday morning's accident. Maybe I should have gone to the party.

WOOOOOO!!! Second round of meds kickin in!

Tonight I have the pleasure of keeping the company of a couple of fucking morons here at the Capeway. The Guy with the Shit in His Face was here last night and lucky me, he's here again. What is it with people that they can't take a hint or get a clue that no one really wants to be bothered by them? And what's with the stupid questions? I don't give a shit what your teachers told you, there IS such thing as a stupid fucking question, and said stupid fucking question deserves a stupid fucking answer, so don't look all sad and dejected when you receive an idiotic answer to your idiotic question.

I'm a bit sorry that I missed all the excitement up north this weekend...Someday I'll be able to play...so here are kisses for all your faces! (Dirty Dogg...Pocket Man...Monkey...Nerds...HHiC...)