Royal Flush

A horrible nickname for a kid is Deuce. A nickname that is a synonym for turd would be exploited mercilessly by a devilish miscreant. Well, I happen to fall under that category, and told the accursed person to have a nice flush during the summer. Half of the population understood, half did not…all’s fair in love for war.

I’m now 21, and have started to engage in the consumption of alcohol. I must say, I’m more childish than I originally thought, because each time, I had the urge to ask for a refund and buy a milkshake. However, it is a blast having my inhibitions quarantined long enough to pull off a few tricks previously considered theoretical.

I talked to Nena Wednesday, and everything is everything. She was single when we kissed, but subsequently met another guy on the floor. I’m convinced he won her over with a simple basic step, because that would be the story of my life thus far. Heh, I can pull off a double hammerlock with the greatest of ease, yet lose to a guy doing “quick-quick-slow” to a cha-cha song. When I first saw her, she through me off my rhythm enough that I nearly dropped the girl I was dancing with. Unlike Braylon Edwards, I do not have a case of the dropsies, so I had to come to terms with the fact that my chi was imbalanced. However, dancing with her again made me feel whole, especially considering I have a great new basic step; a kinky, dirty, filthy basic step. Go me.

Girl-with-dead-boyfriend is for all intents…dead. I get that we burned out too quickly, but shit, the possibilities. It’s always the possibilities one considers when the grenade blows up. I am not as terribly crushed as I was originally, but I do like analyzing it to see if I can rewrite history. I’d love to rewrite the past and all, because it would probably leave me with SuperAIDS. In the sick world I live in, having an STD means you did something right. Carpal tunnel, on the other hand…

This semester will most likely be considered a failure on my behalf, but it is more successful than anyone else could have hoped for in light of the hell I put myself through. Grad school will still be calling; I have the gift of gab when it comes to using a pen, so someone will say “hey, this guy has some dangerous talent that we can exploit when he chooses a discipline!”

As to how I celebrated my birthday, I had a beer at Salsa Club, since it was my actual birthday. The next night, I bought another drink while at The Reef. Again, it felt good flashing my identification and purchasing an alcoholic beverage that did not taste well. The real celebration occurred Monday: my unveiling at Sachi. My mentor and rival Matt had his birthday last week as well, so we decided to tear up the floor as a team. Before this could happen, a samba performer took the stage and used me as a volunteer. The video on Youtube still cracks me up. Afterwards, the birthday dance…two guys, two circles, one dance floor. I literally destroyed my allotted fifteen girls, and it was great. I haven’t slept since Monday because I keep replaying the home stretch of the birthday dance…I literally shifted into terminal gear. I inhaled deeply, because the trifecta was in place: Big Match Feel, Main Event Style, and my personal favorite, End Game. It was my first time there, so it had the BMF. Since I was there to entertain in front of an alien crowd, I had to resort to MES. Lastly, the song was coming to a close, so naturally, my End Game sequence began, and it devastated the crowd. They were speechless. Somebody call the Governor…BECAUSE I HAVE ARRIVED!

A couple of quick notes: I dominated my American Speakers course by channeling Chris Jericho’s spirit into my being. I scared the fuck out of my class with my insistence on being apocalyptic. I did my job admirably, and I’m sure my group blew away all other presentations since my teammates fed off my charisma and drive. As far as work is concerned, I’m looking for a new job…I want out. The environment is starting to kill me. Besides, I was elected Salsa Club Treasurer and crowned Social Dance Chairman. I’ll need some time next school year to devise a successor to my offense, or work out the kinks. Now…to move back home for the summer, yet commute to campus everyday for coursework. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Eminem “We Made You”


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