saturday hits, and im thinkin that maybe today is the day inwhich i can act out my no drinking policy. but dearest and sweetest alexis has other plans. literally. she apparently made a promise of some sort that she'd go to some halloween party. i didn't really know or hear much about it, nor was i expected to go. that means she'd be dressed hot, because thats how she is.
whatever.
so now, i decide i'm goin to this party, too. the one problem being, of course, i don't have a costume. there's no way in fuck i'm repeating my martin mystery costume, since no one barely knew me at the party in which it was designed for -- if i went to this place as "double m," i'd be fucked. i coulda gone as nothing. i coulda gone as justa homeless man. nothin really sounded fun. and, like detailed above, i dont do shit if it aint fun.
lex was goin as pam anderson, all decked out in slutty atire (as mentioned, she more or less assumed i wasn't goin). so, i figgered, what goes great with pamela anderson? .... drunken tommy lee! and so it was.
lex walked around in this tight shirt that pushed them boobies all up n'out. she had cowgirl boots on, a lil leathery miniskirt, a blonde wig, and a customized, pinkish, feathery cowboy hat, with all the boldness that would be pam anderson.
my alterations to her costume included a bloody bruise all about her right eye. whyzzat? cuz i'm the fuckin bad boy rocker, tommy lee. i've got semi dyed hair. i drew my own tattoos. i've got a wife beater on. jeans. tims. sunglasses despite it being a night in october. i'm drunk as a skunk and continue to drink. and, of course, i come complete with a handycam video camera. we just wouldn't be a couple with out.
the party ends up being not so bad, except for one lil religious moment i have. about 48 drinks into the party, most of which are this custom-made "lemonade" (which is really 98% vodka and actual lemonade mix), i had to just go outside for a few moments and talk to myself. and god. or the devil. or whomever currently owns my soul (though i'm quite confident i've defeated the both of them in the poker game inwhich my soul was the ante). basically, the conversation was to cool myself down, after doing nothing but insane drinking for the past 50 days. where urbody, like the rob, got tipz. (urbody, like the rob, got tipz).
moments later, i was good to go, with a new lease on life, and both god and the devil all pissed off cuz i won again. this one's mine, boyo!
i rejoin the party, keep my drinking to a limited, and dance away with 50 or 60 hot chicks at this house party, where every girl thinks i'm smooth as hell, all decked out like tommy lee. i's a pimp. i's. ...blow me.
it actually ended up bein not so bad. i still didn't wanna go, and still woulda preferred to not be there, but... its difficult to say i had a bad time when most of my memories of the evening involve some random sweet ass bitch whom i had just met riding my crotch. those're good times right there, alcohol be damned.
....and me, too.
