i watched meet the robinsons with christie after we had dinner at the green room even though i’m technically not supposed to eat there anymore, fil went to the leafs game with pitt and i forbode him to go for a post-game drink at the loose moose, it’s this close to a hooters by now, the slutty inch-thick-makeup-cake-faced waitresses audaciously flirt with all the men who drink there in front of me, even fil, especially fil, i can only imagine what it is like when i am not there shooting daggers at their fucking heads.

i fucking hate that, don’t make me pretend what’s happening right in front of me isn’t happening right in front of me so that some jerkoff in the back won’t spit in my friend’s onion rings and don’t sit at our table either unless you want a scene, cos i’ll make one, you work in a sports bar, you aren’t in a besuty pageant, stop smiling at me.

it’s best to not go there at all.

am i right.

i’m right.

until there are bar equivalents to that for chicks you’re going elsewhere, which is what they did, they went to lonestar and it was dead.

GOOD.