STUMP TOWN
08.11.2005 | 12:50 AM

A REGULAR NIGHT IN PORTLAND CONSISTS OF ME DRINKING, LIKE, 8 BEERS IN MY BEDROOM AND LISTENING AND DANCING AND SINGING ALONG TO PRINCE.
AND MASTERBATING, LIKE A HUNDRED TIMES, SOMETHING FIERCE WHEN NO ONES HOME.
I COULD HAVE KNOCKED THE WALL DOWN AND ENDED BARE ASS UP IN THE FRONT YARD IF I DIDNT JUST TAKE IT A LITTLE BIT EASY.

AND SOMETIMES I LAY AROUND AND WATCH ENTIRE SEASONS OF THE SOPRANOS OR SIX FEET UNDER AND TRY TO GET ALL OUR PETS UP ON MY LITTLE TWIN BED FOR A SLUMBER PARTY, ME, MY DOG, MY ROOM MATES DOG AND HER 2 STINKY SMELLY CATS BECAUSE IM LIKE THE KID WHO NEEDS TO SLEEP WITH ALL HER STUFFED ANIMALS ON THE BED. EVEN IF IT MEANS THERES BARELY ANY ROOM FOR ME.

BUT THEN SOMETIMES I PICK UP GRAVEYARD SHIFTS AT WORK. AND THE GUY DIES IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. AND I HAVE TO CLEAN HIM AND DRESS HIM UP IN HIS WESTERN BEST AND PREPARE HIM FOR THE SHOWING.
AND WHEN I SAY WESTERN BEST I MEAN SHINY LEATHER PANTS AND SNAKE SKIN JACKET.
HAVE YOU EVER TRIED PUTTING COWBOY BOOTS ON A DEAD MAN BEFORE?
ME NIETHER.
I SHOULD GET PAID LIKE A PROFESSIONAL ATHLETE.
BUT REALLY IM MAKING ONLY A LITTLE MORE THAN BEFORE.

EH.

WHO WANTS TO TAKE ME OUT FOR A CHICKEN DINNER?

I GOT TOMORROW NIGHT OFF.