Funeral for a Friend.

5 Feb

I am teetering on the edge of suicide. I am literally cooking up ways to off myself, by keeping the mess to a minimum while still incorporating some humorous aspect in the technique I use to kick the bucket. I want nothing to do with school. All I want to do is sleep, watch Chelsea Lately, pound booze with my amigos, heckle my dog, and play Scrabble with my mother. Nothing else.

Class is actually depressing me. This is a cry for help. I need serious help, preferably of the professional variety. Spring break cannot come fast enough, and more importantly, summer vacation. OHHH man.

I made a rash, split-second decision to accompany Kehly to Council Bluffs this weekend, as Katie was also going home. After arriving at my house and receiving showers of joy from my parents, I spent an unnecessary amount of time with my dog, and then got ready to go eat Michael’s with Kehly and her sleep-apnea inflicted father and mama. There is possibly nothing I enjoy more than a hearty Mexican meal, and there is possibly nothing I hate more than a hearty Mexican. Funny how things work out sometimes.

ANYwho, after dinner, K-Pak and I hit up the licka-sto’ and then bee-lined it to the guys where we proceeded to gulp our adult beverages. Not really sure of anything that happened, except I woke up with a lot of cereal in my shirt and bra. We all went to Village Inn and indulged in breakfasty goodness.

Saturday, I hung out with mi madre while Katie slumbered (for four entire hours) in my bed. We ate fish. Then I went to the guys’ again. It was me and eleven other men, just the way I like it. Got really drunk, no surprise there. Told some kid to leave, sarcastically, and he actually did. Got concussed, got donkey punched my arm (which created a braggable bruise, by the way), ate a PB&J, and then blacked the fuck out. I woke up incredibly confused, and drunker than a pirate. We all went to Village Inn again. I stole crayons.

That about capped the weekend. I begged my parents for money, bought a gallon of ketchup, and…that’s it. I love Council Bluffs and the people that live there. Well like six of the people that live there. Everyone else is white trash. What can ya do.

This week: memorize weird ass play. Buy milk. Start paper. Kill self.

“Look how pink that sun is.”
“That sun is not pink, Kehly. It’s regular color.”

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