Sunday, January 10, 2010

Diary 12/5/09: More Nicole

Fucking Nicole. I have to write about Nicole. Normally at this point writing about a girl I would say “Nicole. Fucking twat. Why haven’t you blah blah blah, why can’t you just fuck me, etc." But I like Nicole. She hasn’t done anything to fuck me over. I figured she must have a boyfriend going in and lo and behold, I was right. Of course she has a fucking boyfriend. Of course everyone has a fucking boyfriend. Every normal human being in the world is paired off with someone and only a hideous mutant sewer creature could possibly be single at the age of 33 despite being reasonably tall and in good shape and having a job that sounds cool to girls. Of course she has a boyfriend and of course her story about the way they met is some bullshit like I saw him and he looked like a nerd and so I spilled beer on him. I just saw him standing around in a club— BULLSHIT, I’ve been to a million billion clubs over a million years standing around looking like a fucking nerd and I assure you nothing that looks like you has ever spilled beer on me. What the fuck. This was probably like— this was probably the day I had plans to go to that exact same club and stand in that exact same spot but my car battery ran out or something. The same night I was like— well, I was going to go to the club but there won’t be any girls there so fuck it. You could have spilled that beer on me and then you’d be living in my house and I’d be walking around with a skinny good looking chick with big tits instead of by myself like a jackass. But I would get sick of you. The instant you brought up some shit about putting carrot juice in your ass to cure cancer I would probably hit you. So it’s for the best.

I can’t even get horny for you. That’s how much I like you. I’ve tried to rub one out to you several times over the past few weeks, ever since I’ve had those few times hanging out with you long enough to get a “lock” on your face so it doesn’t morph into some more recognizable redheaded chick when I’m imagining you fucking me. But I can’t do it. I usually have to switch over to Seana, getting her pregnant while she’s all drunk and thus ruining her life and dreams. I should be jerking off about ruining your life and dreams. But there’s something so guileless about you. Part of me just want to wrap you in a warm blanket and stroke your hair by a fire while you cry, and tell you everything’s going to be OK.

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