Back on my Midwest Shit.

Anyhow, when we last left our hero, he was typing a long ass entry over what happened during his trip back to home #2.

The following events happened between...well, the drive there and the drive back.

-get higher than giraffe pussy:

Somehow I managed to get ahold of some quality green when I got out of court (btw, the traffic ticket got thrown out, so it was pretty much a waste of time for that trip)...and smoked constantly the whole time I was there. Which probably had a whole lot to do with my behavior and attitude over that two-day period.

-get pulled over for speeding:

Fortunately, I wasn't smoking then, because this was on the way to court. And every time I go back home, that highway is loaded with cops. And I can't drive under 70 mph comfortably. This country pace doesn't suit me and The Bullet (Tone's new name for my car) well.

-visit my favorite strip club:

I certainly did. And unfortunately, all that did was encourage me to get drunk, buy a drink for my 'sis' who works there (which I ended up drinking, because she had to go onstage right after that...)

And I hate R.e.d B.ull and G.oose...immensely, but I wasn't letting $8 go to waste...

-ditch my friends to spend time by myself:

I was supposed to go hang out with my boys, discuss a business deal that one of them wants me to hop on (which sounds an awful lot like a pyramid scheme, and I don't have the money to be tied up in some bullshit right now)...but I was going to go and hear them out.

Then I hit a blunt and was like, well...fuck that, I'm tired.

Mind you, I had been up since 7 that morning, and went to sleep at 4 am that night before.

3 hours of sleep doesn't work if you've got a lot to do and you're already high as shit. You're going right to sleep.

Which I did, with them waiting in a restaurant downtown for me.

Fuck it, I thought, I'll just catch up with them later.

-get entirely fucked up, and try to seek theraputic massage at 4 in the morning (no, seriously, I thought the place was legit):

So this is where the fun begins. Fast forward to me leaving the strip club at like 4 a.m., and realizing my shoulder still hurts from playing ball the other day (for the first time in like, a year...) So, brilliant drunk/blowed me decides to stop in and drop some money to get a massage at this place down the road from the strip club.

And the lady leads me into this room where I get undressed (nearly, I wasn't taking off my drawers in there,) she pulls out lotion (the generic brand? WTF) and then:

-found out the place wasn't legit:

She starts talking about, so, is a massage all you want today?

I'm like, yeah.

(Pause)

What else is there?

She laughs, and says, well, I'd hate to see you waste your money here, 'cause you can get a lot more for about $100...

I still don't get it. Obviously, I've killed some important brain cells in the last 24 hours, because a blind guy could probably get what she was hinting at.

I finally got it, and told her I was straight on that. Never paid for it before, I damn sure wasn't about to start then. Ain't that much alcohol in the world.

Plus, she wasn't even anywhere near tough or worth the money.

And as 50 said, there's too many people with $100.

-Blind a guy in one eye (probably a lot more serious than it sounds)

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is where things get interesting:

I decide, rather than go home, that I'm going to stop into this little adult bookstore to see what's popping in there.

Mind you, never been in there before, never seen it before, even though I've been out in that area on several different occasions.

And today, at 4:30 am, I decide, what the hell.

Go in, talk to the guy at the front, he tells me:

"We have video booths upstairs, you just gotta put in a dollar and you can watch whatever movie we have for 5 min."

Bet. I go up, put in 2 dollars, and start clicking around like it's cable. I'm sending texts and watching porn in the privacy of my own booth.

Not paying attention to the holes, conveniently drilled on both sides of the wall.

Until:

"Ay man...ay..."

I'm still fucked up, trying to figure out where this voice is coming from.

I look around, and to my left, I see some movement through this hole.

I look closer, and make out this guy's face (or his eye and part of his face) peering back at me.

And what he asked me next sobered me up immediately.

"Ay, man, you suck that dick?"

...

...

...

I was actually enraged, appalled, and just floored...the sheer audacity...

"Naw, man, I ain't on that shit. Get on with that gay-ass shit, man."

(*Note: I have NO problem with you being gay. Just don't try to flip me.)

Now, I had heard about these kind of places before, and then it dawned on me: I was IN THAT KIND OF PLACE RIGHT NOW.

Glory holes and shit. That's what the fuck those were.

His face disappeared from the hole.

I continued clicking through stuff.

And I saw his face right back there about 30 seconds later.

"Ay, cuz...I don't know why you keep looking over here, but you need to mind your business, man. I already told you I ain't on that shit."

Now I was upset. My buzz was completely gone, and part of me wanted to go over next door and kick his door in and remind him of what I said with a swift but serious ass-kicking.

He disappeared again.

I started to change the channel, and my time was running out. Dropped my phone on the floor, bent down to pick it up, and just happen to catch a glimpse of this dude looking at me again.

And he was moving. I could tell he was jacking off looking through the hole at me.

Next thing I remember, I'm pulling a ballpoint pen out of my pocket and poking this dude in his eye. Just once. But hard.

Never saw it coming.

Dude screamed. Horribly. Disappeared from the hole, and I broke up out of there, down another set of steps, out to T.B., and floored it up out of there.

Got home, and stayed up until 7, thinking that I was going to get that knock at the door with a couple of squad cars waiting on me.

Pulled the pen out of my pocket, noticed that it was still bloody, and threw it out as I checked out.

The end.

Got high as shit on the way back home, just because of that shit.

More tomorrow.

(*Now, you see why I didn't want to retype this whole thing, right?)