I posted a Diary for Mariahkillschickens tailored to her specifications, and I don't think she even read it.
I don't think she likes me. Probably doesn't like guys who aren't as smart as her. She's a chicken killing mad scientist who's going to be a neurosurgeon, and I'm just a computer geek.
But I digress. In the diary I wrote tailored specifically to mariahkillschickens, HideTheHamster noted that “It has been two days since you've written a proper diary entry!” I answered “per your request, I shall trudge the two miles on down to Oscos Supermarket so I can cash a twenty and get some rolls for breakfast tomorrow, and drink a beer or two at Frankie's.”
I like Frankie's bar, but in the immortal words of Marilyn Manson from the Smells like children CD, “Fuck Frankie!”
So I look outside, and the rain has finally stopped. No excuse. So I go on outside and start walking.
Evil-X had come by yesterday morning, blaring her horn in the driveway like the white trash redneck bitch she is. “I think that horn's for you,” I tell my daughter. “Well, she can knock on the door like she has some manners,” Patty answers.
“You're going to be late.”
“Huh uh, I don't have band today.”
Ding dong. Patty goes to answer the door. “I risked a speeding ticket to get here on time, you're not ready?”
“Leila didn't tell you? I called last night and told her I didn't have band!”
So X starts bitching at Leila. “God damn it Leila, you dragged your ass all morning and I risked a ticket to get here on time, why didn't you tell me?”
Leila answers “You don't have to fucking yell at me damn it!”
I calmly interject, “Er, you let her talk like that?” I've never heard Patty as much as say “damn,” although she does call her mom a slut and a whore. Patty doesn't like her mom's boyfriend.
So X screams at Leila “No computer for you tonight! I'm taking it with me!”
Since moving in with X, Leila pretty much does anything she wants. Patty says “If I talked like that Dad would ground me for a month!”
I go out the door, the yelling is loud and annoying. “Her medicine isn't working,” X screams at me. If I don't walk fast I'm going to be late. All three are screaming at each other.
Patty called me at work today and said X never showed up to pick her up from school at all. Leila told Patty later over the phone that X went straight to her boyfriend's house after work. I guess Leila didn't go to school today.
Patty calls X's boyfriend “Faggot”. Nice family, eh? And you wonder why I'm drinking and taking Paxil!
I've noticed that not only have I added a pound or two, my belly seems to be getting a bit larger. That's not exactly where I want to gain weight; the ladies usually don't go ga ga for beer guts. So I've been cutting back a little, stayed away from the bars the last day or two. Well, I did have one beer at the Track Shack last night.
Anyway, Oscos. The walk down there is pleasant, but thoroughly boring. Except maybe for the unmarked black Secret Police car hoping to catch somebody doing something wrong, or at least illegal, parked on the side of the road. I think he was reading the paper. Lots of crime in the paper, I guess.
A redhead gets out of her red van with a ten year old redheaded boy. The sky is gray, no sunset tonight. Cars go by. I walk.
You're still reading?
So I get to Osco's and get some pastry stuff for breakfast and cash a check. There was some light banter with the probably underaged cashiers, and I walked over to Frankie's.
I had stopped going there completely late last fall when Frankie had said something rude to me. I don't remember exactly what it was, but I do remember that he's a stupid fat fuck and if he doesn't need my business any more than that, fuck him. I didn't go back until after the van broke. After a two mile walk in the hot sun, you want a beer.
There are almost always good looking waitresses and bartenders, and the jukebox almost always blasted stuff I have on my PC. I noticed that there wasn't much business any more. Frankie probably pissed everybody off.
So tonight I walk in, and there's that commercial shit that tries real hard to be rap without actually succeeding. The place is full of redneck men, and maybe four ugly middle aged women scattered around the room, and five big black men at a table in the middle.
Frankie's behind the bar. “How ya doin’?” he asks. “Pretty good,” I say as he walks off. “Can I get a Busch?” What a shit bartender! He waits on 3 or 4 other people and comes back with a Busch. I hadn't had time to ask for the glass of water so I add, “thanks, can I get a glass of water too?”
He pours the water. “Three dollars.” I should have just told him to fuck himself and left, but I didn't. I hand him three dollars. “For a fucking Busch?”
“It's two bucks but I'm taking three.”
It's going to be quite some time before he gets my business again. He can treat those rednecks like that if he wants, but this town is infested with bars.
Fuck Frankie. And the horse he rode in on.