Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Karma ... Or Is It Car-Ma?

The cold snap -- well, winter -- is no excuse to get out and exercise.  Also, Mondays are the days where this house party is, and there's this one chick to whom I showed my dick to, and it was awesome, and she always dances there.

I didn't expect to go out tonight.  My plan was to watch Skating With The Stars with my Grandmother, then Hawai'i Five-O by myself, then check out the late-night talk shows while writing up my annual rant against the BcS.  But at some point yesterday I felt my fat belly, then remembered that I haven't been to this house party in awhile.  Finally, the tipping point: The Patriots-Jets game on Monday Night Football, quite possibly The Most Anticipated Regular Season Game Of The Year.  If it was anything like the Sunday Night Football game between Pittsburgh and Baltimore, I don't want to sleep through this.

The final consideration was whether we ate dinner early enough.  And we did, before 6:30.  So I was set: I was going to the party, then the gym.  But. ... I didn't want to leave Grandmother in the lurch.  Plus, we ate chicken, so I waited around in case I needed to shit.  The problem with this is, the party starts at 7, and it's fairly popular.  There are guys who come early to the party, and that's bad for me, because I don't want guys around because then I can't show my cock.  I guess I could while they're in another room, but that's too much of a risk, and besides, it's weird.

I should've thought of that yesterday afternoon.  What I could have done is told my parents I just wouldn't eat for dinner so I could for sure be there at 7.  But I didn't.

Anyway, I didn't shit, and Grandmother went inside her room because Father was preparing some food; she knows not to bother Father besides dinner.  With changing clothes, in particular getting into my porno pants, I told my parents I'm working out, then told my Grandmother that Skating With The Stars is on Channel 5, then I took off right around 7 o'clock.

It was a bad idea to go to the party; what was I thinking?  If I couldn't take out my pee-pee there, what would be the use?  So at 20 past 7 there are five old guys, presumably all of them able to kick my ass if the dancer I exposed my manhood to sicced them on me.  Furthermore, when there are usually four dancers, tonight there were only two, and both of them were taken.  After about half an hour of waiting around and creeping out the guys that were getting dances by sitting in the same room and leering at them -- ostensibly doing to them what I was afraid they were going to do to me, sans dick-showing, I took off.  I wasted a hell of a lot of gas, but at least I didn't spend any money.

It was a long ways away to get to the gym; I should know a faster route.  As I started driving, I noticed a slapping sound coming from outside my car door.  At first I thought chunks of ice was hitting it.  But there is weatherstripping at the bottom of the door that was coming loose.  At a stoplight I opened my door, and what was just, oh, half a foot of dangling stripping had turned into a foot-plus.  That thing was slapping my door at speeds of 65, 70 miles per hour.  The weatherstripping was stripping the paint off the driver's-side door.

I don't know how it happened.  It was slapping on the way to the condo.  Is it karma?  Am I being punished for going to this house to see and touch titties and maybe hang out with my wang out?  I didn't spend any money, you know.  It has to be cosmic payback.

What's worse, when I went to the gym, all the lockers were taken because some guys were playing ... what is this wallyball?  I brought in my bookbag because that's where the medicine I needed to take at this time is in, so I had time to pound it down and put my bag back.  At least when I returned a locker was available.  Unfortunately, when I went to take a swig of water with my pill upstairs, I noticed that there were not one, not two, but three people already inside the gym.  Damn -- I really needed to use the treadmill.  Oh, and on top of all that, the Patriots were killing the Jets -- no real need to go out and watch that game, turns out.

Exercised for less than 90 minutes and came directly home, stripping damaging my car door all the way.  So instead of relaxing today, I had something I really needed to fix, goddammit.

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