Ah shit

I'm never drinking again for as long as I live. This hangover feels like a dozen men pulverizing my head with golf clubs. I brought a bunch of work with me, but I can't focus.

So this new blog. I've resisted moving to Blogger for so long, but the hecklers at Diaryland made it mandatory. There will be no mention of my academic institution here, lest it be gobbled by the bots of Google. I'm hoping I can remain anonymous and write honestly.

Okay, here's where I'll start. Last night, I hooked up with this woman-- who was maybe an 8 on a scale with a maximum of 10, and of course I had my wine goggles on. She was flirty and bought me drinks, and I didn't fully comprehend the depth of her annoyingness because the music was so loud and I was trashed. I brought her back to my friend's townhouse and we hooked up a little bit, but she was a little hygienically challenged, let's say, and I just couldn't get into it. She had nice tits, though. That much, I do remember... but still not nice enough to redeem herself. She kept pawing me while I was sleeping in the bed. She was one of those eager, grateful types(most likely a former fattie, judging from her stretch marks, bleccch). And God, how I wish I didn't remember how hairy she was, gag. I had to wake her up and kick her out of the house when I sobered up a bit, around 11 am or so. Also, I wanted her out of there before anyone woke up.

She wanted to take a shower first. I hesitated, but I relented, mostly because she needed it badly. She was in the bathroom for quite a while, and then came out, got dressed, and left without saying goodbye. I was relieved that she was gone and didn't think twice about it. At this point, everyone was sleeping still.

About two hours later, my friend Asher(who is renting the townhouse) is yelling that his watch, a Cartier limited-edition or something other, is fucking missing. Instantly I realized that the dirty bitch I hooked up with last night was the culprit, but I kept my mouth shut. Why? I can't afford to buy him a replacement and am hugely mortified thus. Thankfully, I don't think anyone remembers that I brought a girl home last night, and no one has said anything to me. I do feel horrible about hooking up with a thief, though. She wasn't even that hot. That's the part that bothers me most. That, and the fact that she robbed my friend.

Well, so far, this bisexual experiment is not panning out. First one was a bona fide psycho, and the second one is a hairy thief. It would be stupid to remain optimistic at this point.

See? I could never write about shit like this if my friends were reading this.

Oooh, my head. I need to go rest.