*cries*
like the utterly fantabulous rockstar that he is, john calls me at 2 am. two in the fucking morning. nevermind that i’m no where near being sleepy…nevermind that i’m so fucking hyper i’m bouncing off the walls and can’t stop laughing because jetta is fucking awesome. hell, go ahead and forget the fact that i’ve gotten very friendly with some vodka…the rockstar is the ultimate buzzkill…
he really, really is.
he’s wasted, of course…but not too wasted. he’s going to watch fear and loathing…or something like that. and then he’s going to pass the fuck out. but not before he informs me that you know, he and i are ‘still kinda together.’ oh yeah, that floored me and killed my hyper right fucking away.
while the rockstar was trying to explain that fucking someone (him and good ol’ one-nip the whore) and kissing someone (me and random bar dude…skylar, i think) are the same thing. fucking = kissing…at least in the rockstar’s world.
*growl*
then he goes on to say that he isn’t fucking anybody and he won’t because we have things we need to hash out. this revelation totally sobered me the fuck up:
rockstar: i told you…i promised you i wouldn’t be with anybody.
pineapple: but what about the girl with one nipple?
rockstar: i only did that girl because she kept bugging me about it.
lovely, isn’t that? fucking lovely…
pineapple: oh really…*restraining self from screaming nonstop*
rockstar: and you and i have to hash things out…and i won’t be with anybody…because we’re still kind of together.
pineapple: *chokes*
[silence]
pineapple: what?
rockstar: [insert mindless blather here] + [lame ass excuse that i’m breaking up and cutting out and he can’t hear me] + y’all have a good night, i’m gonna go now…good night…i love you…good night…
pineapple: WHAT?! what did you just say?
rockstar: *laughs* i don’t know…good night…sleep tight…bye.
[click]
*SCREAMS*
oh. my. christ.
now i need another fucking drink. *shrugs* what? i’m an alcoholic in training, yo…
