I should have known years ago from what an Asian prostitute told me – “You too nice for girlfriend.” And she was right. I am too nice, too old fashion, and far too much of a gentleman for anyone not living in the 1950’s.
So I have decided to stop being nice or cordial to women. I will read this book and become a pick-up artist who cares not for ones feelings and comfort, only for the amount of notches I can put on my bed post. I am no Fred Flintstone, but I can make your Bed-Rock.
For that matter, I have also decided to start drinking again. What point am I trying to prove any how? Of course, with all that drinking, I might as well start smoking again. Back to the old two packs of Camel Light box habit for me.
If I go back to those old ways, why stop there? I still have that bottle of Chloroform under the sink – might as well go back to walking the dark streets at night looking for young ladies from the bar.
Just when all those needle marks on my arm, between my toes, and in the side of my eyeball were just starting to heal up, tough break for me.
Wait, that’s the phone… could it be her with a lame excuse? Or maybe a good excuse?
I don’t want to subscribe to the Wall Street Journal.
I’m going out for cigarettes and vodka to start.
You have a good weekend too.
No – I’m evil now, don’t have a good weekend.