An Update from Dairy Treat

9 03 2008

I’m sitting in the local greasy spoon, listening to these two odd guys bitching and moaning about Bellville. It strikes me that maybe they’re vagrants, or something, since they keep trying to fall asleep in the booths. However, they’ve paid for their food, which means they either have money, or are about to rob the shit out of this place. If that happens, well, let this be my last will and testament. I only have about five dollars in my pocket, but goddamned if these two asswipes are getting it.

Besides, I’ll be the first one to let them know why the grocery/gas station across the street should be robbed. Speaking of thieves… Jesus, do you know I spent six dollars on a gallon on milk there? Yeah, I would think that qualifies them for a good hard robbery. Assholes.

The Girlfriend just left, after having a greasy, gross lunch. She’s on her way home to Oysterfest, where she won’t be able to eat any oysters, since they’re all toxic along the gulf coast this season. I forget why exactly, but something having to do with the tides and chemical companies had rendered all of the Texas oysters poisonous.

I miss my damned girlfriend.

I’ve gotten used to these weekends where she’s with me, just wiling away the time until Monday morning. Then, fucking Spring Break comes along and she has to jet on home, because apparently you can’t stay in the dorm room you’ve already paid for. Whatever, she needs to see her family. I’m just bitching because I can’t go this time, for the simple reason that I’m a poor bitch with too much shit to do. I hate being a responsible adult.

More country music being piped in from… somewhere. “Two of a kind, workin’ on a full house.” Garth Brooks if I’m not mistaken. You’ve got to love the idea behind that, though. Imagine how many people were singing that song when it was popular. Old women, little kids, preachers, teachers, and every other kind of American staple; every last one of them singing to the best of their abilities. And, every last one of them singing about fucking.

Well, that’s it for now. More later, as I figure out what I’m doing today.