The Perfect Storm

I was talking to my stepbrother yesterday and he told me that my 21 year old sister had just got out of a three day stay in jail for missing her community service. They were never that rough on us in the Boy Scouts when it came to community service, but in a post 9/11 world, I suppose this is how it goes.

So, I went out for one of my last smokes and was talking to my neighbor and he goes "Oh, shit. It's your birthday this week? We should totally get you a stripper or two in your apartment." While I understand that it's a universal male code to like strippers, I'm not completely down with it as expressed in this blog before. Yes, I'm down with hot girls. Even hot girls covered in glitter that smell like pear lotion, but when anyone does anything under a false pretense; It's sad. I mean, if you want to give me a lap dance and then go to lunch, that's fine, but otherwise, I'm not into it.

I'm not just going to beat up strippers on this, though. It happens in real life, too, the whole false pretenses thing. I'm convinced that some people don't even know they're doing it. The human condition is just that fucked up.

So, anyway, it's the perfect storm because if my neighbors try to surprise me with a stripper, my mom will probably be over watching over me because I tend to do dumb stuff on my birthday because I still associate it with some bad shit subconciously. Dumb stuff being alcohol related obliteration or as it's known by it's street name "self-medication."

It would be like a horrible episode of Three's Company where Larry tries to surprise Jack and then Jack has to go meet a flight attendant at the Regal Begal so Janet wears a fake moustache and acts like Jack. I think that may be a real episode. Mr.Furley comes in in the last 5 minutes and wraps up the debacle and Larry gets the girl. Larry always gets the girl. Then, Jack walks in piss drunk without the flight attendant and ten Ketel and Sodas deep and tells everyone in the apartment to "Fuck Off" and falls asleep on the couch in his clothes. Then, Eddie Money walks in the front door and sings "Two Tickets to Paradise" for the TC gang and the credits roll. Wow! I just wrote my own custom episode of Three's Company. That's awesome. Maybe I will start writing them for others like caricatures.

Being smart this year and being a groundhog, though. It's taken a few stumbles, but I swear I learned this time. I even set a "quit date" for smoking of tomorrow and plan on chain smoking until then. I quit for two months last year and made the mistake of becoming involved with a fuckin' hobo drunk nut job that smoked when she drank. She left smokes at my apartment and tended to make things quite complicated and I found myself smoking after a while.

She was very cute, though and had really nice taste in dresses. She was a little too into PDAs, though and I think she may have affected my cool guy street cred a little bit. No life aspiration and some unresolved core issues, but very cute and watched soccer with me in my underwear the morning after our first date. That was probably my kryptonite on that one. Dammit, I got pwn3d. I've got to be smarter on shit like this. British accent? pwn3d. Smart? pwn3d. Likes my hair? pwn3d. Has good hair? pwn3d. I'm a big stupid man who falls for this shit. How many krypling kryptonites (alliterations are fun) can one person have? God, I feel stupid now.

Happy Hump Day.