I skipped a day.
That’s the 3rd day of the year that I don’t write on my blog.
On a Saturday.
And it is starting to feel like a daily blog is pointless. Somewhat dumb. Unnecessary. Who is paying me? No one obviously. Who would pay me for such stupid word vomit?
My Saturday wasn’t good. That’s why I didn’t post.
Friday was a bit too much. And I’m not making any money this week.
Like I write in every other blog. I need other publishers. Because I have no idea what to write right now for the Reader.
Because I missed Saturday post.
This is what went down on Friday.
We got shrimp and beers.
Then we went to the cat cafe.
Cats are the kind of subjects that you actually need a dSLR to shoot. iPhone did a good job, but them kitties are tough. Especially the black ones.
I tried getting great pics for some Reddit gold. But I failed (well… I haven’t tried uploading them). My first cat cafe visit took me to the front page. This time, I don’t think I’ll make it anywhere.
If the kitty looked at the camera, the pic would have been gold.
Same with this kitty.
Most kitties hung out by the window. Making the pics backlit. So it was a rough shoot. Also… the cat cafe was WAY smellier than the first time I visited and had way fewer kitties (only 5).
After kitty cafe, we went to Mamut, because I love their Double IPAs. They are so good for so cheap. From there to Voodoo Stu’s for some fried chicken Friday, but I was already fucked. I took mine to go home, ate like a drunken madman, and passed out.
Woke up just in time to go see my girlfriend in the usual spot. And Friday night time! After getting dinner and drinks with her, we went to meet up with friends and ended up in La Estrella… out of all places.
I know I was drunk. Because I danced.
Or maybe it was because of her.
Because me dancing is a rare sighting. But I felt like it. And I’m beyond horrible at it.
But she was dancing. And I wanted to dance with her.
And like I said… I was drunk.
After dancing, we went across the street to Dandy’s del Sur, where the gang order another bucket of cervezas. And I kept drinking fast. I also did something I rarely almost never do. I stole a beer. Well… didn’t really steal it. We had already paid for it, but I took out of the bar in my pocket. Because apparently I still needed more beer for the night.
We came home, I still had a beer in my pocket, and I drank it fast.
We woke up early on a Saturday. Way early.
Babe wanted shrimp because she missed out the previous night. So shrimp it is again. This time, I didn’t enjoy it.
After shrimp, she had to stop by her office. She was only going to take “15 minutes.” Of course, that was a lie, and she took almost an hour.
And I sat outside her office. Feeling like I was going to faint. It felt like I haven’t slept since the previous night. The hungover hit me all at once under the sun of the early afternoon.
My head started to hurt. And hurt badly.
I just wanted to be home in my bed. So we came back. And I passed the fuck out. Woke up a few hours later feeling worse.
It was one of the worst hangover headaches I had.
And my girlfriend asked me about posting on my blog that day.
Fuck my blog that day.
I couldn’t even write anything.
Fuck this blog any day. I still wonder what the point is beside spewing my thoughts rapidly on a keyboard.
Is it practice? Is this making me a better writer? Or am I getting shittier? Does anyone even actually read me? Or is it just still people googling ‘Donald Faison penis’ and ending in my blog by accident because I posted my interactions with him. Which by the way, it didn’t have anything to do with penis. Bob Saget was there at the same time, and I said that he sucks dick for coke (from the movie Half Baked). But Donald Faison and dick were mentioned in the same blog post. So sometimes people find my blog because they were trying to look up Donald Faison’s dick and end up here. Where they won’t find any penis.
Donald Faison was cool by the way. Same with Bob Saget. Zach Braff… not so much.
I wrote that 4 years ago. Weird….
Speaking of writing…
Editor finally hit me up about the cover story. At first only one email about correcting a paragraph. Then another. And another. And another. And another. So now I have editing to do. A bunch of it. At least it shouldn’t be hard. But I also have to take care of the pics. And all of that has already been paid. So it’s like working for free.
He sent all that on Friday night. And my weekend turned into a real weekend. So I’m going to pretend I didn’t see anything until Monday morning. Then my girlfriend is out for the next week in Mexico City. And I have to get my shit together and work. Because apparently, I work for nothing and so does she.
I didn’t feel better until late on Saturday. After eating some ahi tuna and drinking a Negroni from La Cevicheria Nais. Well, it was an hour after that. My headache finally cleared. I felt like a normal human again. And hey! I could drink beer again.
Girlfriend wanted to play pool (billiards). So we went to a shitty pool hall that I’ve been curious about. It’s super cheap. 25 pesos for an hour of pool. Cervezas are only 24 pesos (not sure what they accomplish with the 1 peso cheaper). But anyway…
SHE IS HORRIBLE AT POOL.
Worse than in Mario Kart.
But she doesn’t care. She does it with a smile. And gets happy whenever she makes a shot. Or gets happy whenever I make a shot. Which by the way, I am pretty shitty at pool as well.
And when she smiles. It infects me. And I smile.
The bad side of that is when she gets angry or sad, it makes me that as well. And like I said, I often say stupid things that can ruin things.
Like posting on a public blog that she is horrible at pool. At least she looks great while playing.
And today Sunday.
Sunday.
It’s a get ready for the week to come Sunday.
I outdid the fuck out of my weekend. I should have done some work.
And there is still more juice to squeeze out of the weekend.
Chilaquiles for brunch. Laundry time. Perhaps the beach (Playas). Maybe some tennis (instead of the beach). Voodoo Stu has a live show. And should be in bed early.
She flies to Mexico City tomorrow.
And for the first time in 5 weeks, we are not going to be together.
Ever met someone and then spend 5 weeks in a row together? Like non-stop? Well besides work. The first two weeks were non-stop together. Then work and spend the rest of our time together. Same bed. Seeing her every morning. 30+ nights waking up next to her.
And suddenly the day after tomorrow. I’ll wake up alone with Bisho (my cat).
Bisho is going to be happy. And I’ll wonder if it was all a dream.
Matingas 