sm62704's Journal: Psycho Man Slayers

Previously: Amy Again

I was up at the crack of dawn Saturday morning, damn it. One reason I hate that goddamned alarm clock is that it has gotten me up every day, Monday through Friday, for the last twenty years and now I'm up early on the weekends, too, even though the alarm's not set.

I should find a girlfriend named "Dawn". Then getting up at the crack of Dawn wouldn't bother me so much.

I drank my coffee as Charlie slept on the couch. She'd gone to the races the previous night. Amy had disappeared, I heard she was back with her boyfriend. Nothing unusual there; I didn't expect her to stay around long. I moved Charlie's feet out of the way and sat down to read for a while. "Aurthur Phillip Dent? You're a... wait a minute, I've done you before, haven't I?"

I drove to McDonald's for a bag of nearfood, ate it, moved Charlie's feet again and turned on the VCR, and watched Wagon's East, John Candy's last movie. I'm surprised this isn't a geek classic, as it is a cross between Saturday Night Live and Star Trek Voyager -- at least, half the actors in it are from those two shows. And William Sanderson, from Blade Runner, is in it, too.

The phone rang; it was Linda. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Watching a movie, what's up?"

"Want some breakfast?" hell yes I wanted some breakfast! I was a Hobbit this morning; I'd had breakfast at six thirty and was having it again at ten. But Linda's one hell of a cook and I won't turn down a chance to eat anything she cooks. I had the second breakfast with Linda and Tami, who was very ill as she'd had way, way too much to drink the previous night. They regaled me with tales of their (especially Tami's) drunkenness, and I promised to buy Tami some beer. Pitchers at the Blue Grouch are only $3.50 on Saturdays; Linda had other plans.

While we were at the Grouch, Amy called; she was headed home (my home). We finished the pitcher, I took Tami to Ralph's, and went home to meet Amy.

The girls do NOT get along these days. Charlie and Amy are good friends, and Linda and Tami seem to be; but since Charlie got thrown out of Ralph's she is bitter enemies with Tami and Linda, who blames Charlie for getting her boyfriend, who is Charlie's brother, put back in prison. If you're new to these journals, Charlie's brother was imprisoned for Grand Thieft Auto because he's stupid and loves cars, and was on parole when he got put back in for parole violation for being at Ralph's. Linda's on parole, too, she on a non-violent drug posession charge. I'm not really sure what it is between Tami and Amy; somehow I think Amy got jealous of Tami back when Tami was living with me.

Amy missed me and said she was homesick while living at her BF's. Stark raving loonie tunes, I tell ya. "I love you!" she said to me, into her boyfriend's phone, in front of her boyfriend, who is a pretty big guy. Fucking woman had told him I'd had a crush on her! WTF was that all about anyway?

His truck was at my house when I got home, and she got out of it and came in, with him burning rubber as he left. She wanted me to take her to Farley's, the sleaziest bar in this cartoon city, and then to get her stuff from her (allegedly) ex-boyfriend's, who had raised a stink about the ten bucks while I, only a friend, had loaned her a bunch of money that she still owed months later.

She was crying inconsolably.

I got the feeling that if she wasn't on the rag I'd have gotten lucky. The three of us went to Farley's, and I bought a pitcher. We talked for a while, Charlie went outside to smoke, and Amy spied Roger, her old boyfriend from before the guy she's with (was with?) now.

I decided I didn't want to drink by myself in this sleazy dive, told Amy I was leaving, and left. Charlie was by my car smoking, and went with me. She went to the races, and I went to the Blue grouch. Linda and Tami were there, I drank too much, and didn't remember going home.

Sunday I got up about six thirty and discovered the floor was clean. Charlie had obviously gotten the cleaning bug while I slept, or had made a mess and hurredly cleaned it up. I drank my coffee, and trudged to the Blue Grouch to retrieve my car, relieved that I hadn't driven it home.

As I walked, Tami called, worried that I had driven.

Amy called from Roger's wanting a ride. When I picked her up she had a hickey on her neck. Charlie was gone when we got back to my house. We drove to Amy's so-called "ex" BF's to get her things. My car has a huge trunk, I could fit a half-dozen dead hookers in it. Or a dozen skinny little crack whores.

Then we drove to my daughter Leila's trailer for some drugs.

When Evil-X left my daughters and me for another man, the three of us were prescribed antidepressants. We've been off of them for a long time, but my packrat daughter had kept the Zoloft she'd been prescribed. She gave us half a dozen bottles. Amy was so happy she almost gave ME a hickey! She hadn't had her Zoloft in weeks and was suicidal; I guess I saved a woman's life.

Am I dumb or what?

We unpacked her stuff, and I dropped her at her girlfriend's house, who she hadn't seen in a while. Charlie was gone to the races again, and I sat home and drank on my porch swing.

Amy woke me up in the middle of the night, gave me a hug, and told me she was back with her boyfriend. Again.

The next morning Charlie was in a foul mood. It was her turn to start her period. She'd not been able to sleep and had spent the night cleaning house, and spent the morning bitching at me. Somehow it was MY fault she'd been thrown out of Ralph's. I felt like throwing her out myself, but she went to sleep on the couch about ten. Five minutes into an episode of STNG I had on tape, the phone rang.

Damn, it was the MPAA calling to arrest me for copyright violation.

Nope, it was Linda.

I feel like I have four girlfriends, or two girlfriends and two wives, none of whom will put out. Prak would laugh harder at me than at Aurthur, I'm sure.

(If you don't know who Prak is, you really need to get out less often)

I went over visiting again, and they fed me beer and a delicious hamburger and some cole slaw. But before that, as I was ringing the doorbell, my phone rang. Charlie had left her purse in the guy's trunk, and he was at my house with it and she wasn't waking up and he was leaving it on the porch. He didn't seem too happy about it; I think they were supposed to go to the races again.

I drove back and put her purse inside and went back to Ralph's.

When I got back home after visiting Linda and Tami, who had been in bathing suits sunning in the back yard (God but Linda's gained some weight), Charlie wanted to borrow my car. I said Ok, she said she'd be an hour.

Two hours later I started to worry. Two hours after that I was sure I'd be walking to work; either she'd wrapped it around a tree and was in the hospital, or had gotten busted for a traffic ticket and gone to jail like happened last year.

Yeah, she'd spent a week in jail for driving on an expired license; well, actually she'd been broke, sentenced to community service since she hadn't had any money, done half of it, and her mom came down with cancer and she kind of forgot about the community service. She'd asked a cop where she could find a pay phone and he'd arrested her.

She finally got home and I calmly told her I wasn't letting her borrow the car any more, and she went off on me.

Tired of the bitching, I told her to get the fuck out of my house. She refused. I called the cops and asked them to "please get this woman the hell out of my house!"

By the time they came, she'd apologized. But she's on thin ice with me; I'd hate to throw her in the street but I'm not going to take any more of her hormonally fueled abuse. I keep wondering what evolutionary advantage there is to PMS? It seems a cave man would have just broken the bitch's neck and had done with her.

Next: Under the rainbow

(The title of this journal is named after some ladies who used to kick my ass when I played Quake online with them, the Psycho Men Slayer Clan. I guess this journal is dedicated to all the world's misandrists.)