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I swear to God, that if I ever catch you messing around,
I'll hunt you down and crush you like the pathetic blood sucking leech that you are.

You can do anything to me, I really don't give a cockroach's tail, but, as long as I've been ignoring your filthy, slothy existence, I don't really see the point of your misleading little stories.
He didn't do anything to you, so leave him out.

Never underestimate the power of defending beliefs...

Jury duty. That'll do it.

The mortgage that is past due and the job that is taking too long to generate commission income- no. That won't do it.

The two step kids who hate me and my two babies who are feverish and snotty at home with a wife that I continue to discover has almost as dark of a past as myself- no. That won't do it either.

Jury duty will though. Juror 172. That's me today.

I haven't been here for almost five years- I mean, I've been here, I just haven't left anything worthwhile to show that I've been. Lurking. Waiting for the perfect moment. Blocked. Writer's constipation.

Jury duty. Its an important responsibility.

In the past five years, shitty boots and sweaty hats, horses, cattle and rattlesnakes, smoke filled bars, married women, pistols and fist fighting have given way to suits and ties, insurance and securities licenses, Sunday school classes, and meals planned by the Mormon church.

No more women, no more wine. All I hear is 'double-time'. My dad used to sing that in a drill sergeant voice when I was little. He used to say crazy shit like that all the time. But that one best fits my life.

Men, I'd just like to start off by saying that you know you are attractive to the opposite sex when you have Chef Boyardee stains on your underwear.

Pussy counts as finger food right?

I was at Tommy Rocker's the other night and the bartender who had worked there like 14 years was telling my friend and I about the two years it was a strip club, and how that just didn't work. My friend completely agreed. I don't get it though. I suggested every place be a strip club in addition to what it was before. The International House of Pancake Titties came to mind. And yes, they have silver dollar pancake titties too.

May Day came and went. I thought about writing, I actually had the day off. I think it's the heat of Vegas that is helping me to not be energetic. I'll never complain, though. Give me this over scraping frost off my car.

I had this little story I was kind of excited about. It was all about what a great wingman I am. I've basically only had 3 single male friends the 8 years I have lived in Las Vegas. One guy is now living with a girl that is a friend of my ex, he met her in China. He was only in China because he's my friend. This is the biggest stretch of the 3.

Another friend got a divorce and was at a bar with me when in the spirit of Mystery I opened every woman within 3 feet of me. Including his girlfriend whose number he got that night.

And the third friend went on a rare date a few nights ago. Let's just say I helped.

I few paragraphs ago, I actually went out. A bit tired now, so this will have to do.

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