Wait, I actually had a pretty good day today.
Went to the dollar theater (total cost: 2 dollars) with Krisandra, Jaye, and Carl. First time anybody let me out with their girlfriend since I started masturbating to Facebook pictures. Is there a correlation? I hope not.
Didn’t stop Todd from calling me and it definitely didn’t stop Carl from calling me, texting me, and— I think— getting one of his guys to show up and stalk us. That may have been Carl, the crafty Mexican. He’s not even Mexican— that’s how good of a Mexican he is. So Carl called and he asked me if I could pick him up to hang out. I pretty much coughed “yes” back into the phone because I’m a masochist. Let me be clear: I hate Carl. But I love pain— sometimes all the time.
“Is it OK if to smoke in your car,” he asked from the backseat.
“Yeah, I mean I smoke so go for it. Be my guest.”
I should have said “smoke what”.
Carl was Jaye’s— is, I’m sorry— Jaye’s dead-beat boyfriend. First of all, he’s German. Second of all, he’s got a GPS tracking anklet on because (thirdly) he’s had four DUI’s in 2 years. He’s been on house arrest for two years but that hasn’t stopped him from smoking crack out of an apple in my car.
Carl passed me the still smoking apple— “I’m driving, It’s okay,” I lied. It wasn’t okay to smoke crack in my car and I really wasn’t driving anymore; the crack was.
See, Chaz smoked me out a fat crack bowl earlier in the morning to take my mind off of the fact his girlfriend smoked all our weed again.Lets just— never mind, we’ll talk about it later. I would have smoked the crack but I didn’t want Jaye and Krisandra to think I am a crack-smoker; Katy would have found out.
Listen, I don’t normally smoke crack. I don’t smoke crack. But Chaz smoked me out this huge crack bowl earlier to take my mind off the fact his girlfriend smoked all of our weed again. Lets just— never mind, we’ll talk about it later.
Jaye is a mormon, which is weird too. Sure she’s a pot-smoking mormon but she still wears the magic underwear and the church still considers her a “trusted source”— whatever that means. But to me it’s weird that this mormon girl would be dating such a dead-beat shit-sucker like Carlos.
Carl is writing a novel about his life. Was, I mean.
“I had to restart,” he recalled from the back seat, “ the typewriter I was using burned down.”
“You mean your laptop crashed,” Krisandra said.
“No, I used a typewriter.” Carl thinks he’s brilliant And he thinks his novel is too. “It’s kind of a semiautobiographical novel about my about my life until I turned 21.”
“You’re 23,” Jaye said.
“Two years are the ‘semiautobiographical’ parts.”
I think Carl has actually killed somebody now that I think about it— maybe twice. Nothing bothers me more than a person who thinks their life is interesting enough to document before the age of 25. Court cases or not, I can guarantee that anybody alive today who is under the age of 25 and is writing their autobiography is just a hack-narcissist.
Anyways, the movie was good and so was the crack. See, Chaz smoked out a fat crack bowl earlier to take my mind off the fact his girlfriend smoked all of our weed again. Lets just— never mind, we’ll talk about it later.
I really need to smoke some weed. Maybe I should hide my weed from now on. There’s a good place under my lamp nobody will look. And behind the blinds. The blinds are a good place.