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If Geoff doesn't get some tonight, it's his own damned fault.

Once again, we kicked ass doing Karaoke at The Office in Beatrice. Closed the joint down with "Summer Nights" from Grease. He was Olivia Newton-John, I was John Travolta. I guess that makes us Olivia Newton-John Travolta. Anyway, we kicked ass. So, who's getting hit upon?

Geoff.

Not me.

I dunno what it is. Wait, I do. I put up a tremendous wall around me in uncomfortable situations. I intensely dislike crowds. Hate would be the more appropriate word. I hate crowds. Fucking hate them. With every fiber of my being.

I could have seen Nirvana. I hated crowds, so I didn't go. I thought, "Well, they'll be back again. P'raps I'll be better by then." Then Kurdt Cobain killed himself. No second-time around for me.

Anyway, there was this chick all over Geoff tonight. More power to him, really. Only chick even close to being attractive in the bar, and she picks him? Go for it, says I.

I wish I knew how to hit on chicks. It's a skill I lack. I have a tremendous blind spot when it comes to people digging me. Of course, the ones that dig me are ones that I'm not attracted to. But still, while I'm not the best you can do, I'm no elephant man. I've all the right parts, and my eyes, while lopsided, aren't terribly so.

I'll die alone. So it goes. At least I'll go out rawking.
posted by Grant Bennett at 1:11 AM