Hangovers, Toothaches, Passwords, And The Professionals Who Own Them

08 Dec

space-fats

Measuring the Space In Fats

samplex

Date: Fri Dec 8, 1995 5:18:57 PM America/New_York

Space, so I went to the dentist Monday to have two cavities filled with the sweetness of all that girly magic floating around Dr. Mainstream's office. As you might recall I was having work done last summer until I got sidetracked with death in the family I handled hard, and everything else in this modern age of ghetto living that requires more than three fingers of coping. Experiencing no pain before the drilling & filling, now I've got an infection complete with metallic taste and persistant ache in one of the two he worked on. Guess that's why they call dentistry and doctoring a practice...

Sue just walked in and we both swore to cut out this badass drunkenness routine for good before it rots us beyond redemption. But, of course I've been swearing this after every drunk for years now, and while I'm doing better, my calculations fail me, as next time always seems to be just around the corner with some friend's face attached to it. Fact is I'm just a social mess. Can't go out without drinking. Don't wanna go out when I'm not drinking, but can't stay cooped up ALL the time, whatta mess!
Sue & I buzzed off to a metalcore show last night. If my pictures turn out, it was worth it. If the camera work was drab, I hated it. The music of the headlining band, the Genitorturers, is not bad for the genre but in honesty is simply a front for the group's leather bondage & piercing fetishes. Last night's show paled in comparison to last year's go, except last year I didn't have my camera. This hangover sucks a strawful. The two Genitorturers shows plus another of some local friends are the only rock shows we've been to in about eighteen months, and frankly I don't miss that lifestyle at all. Been eating my weight back lately, though, as the hangovers keep me stuffing my face all day long trying to feel something other than complete misery. Too old & too tired for this rabble rousing routine.

How's the office rumor machine treating you these days? Mental health, they should know better. Last Sunday, I indeed was planning on calling you, but I didn't focus on it until nearly three o'clock my time, and you were long gone to the game I reckon. Maybe I'll catch you this Sunday. That web site thing doesn't seem to be happening. None of the five sites I staked out have provided any password data, yet the names and directory codes show up. The icons show that the addresses have indeed been secured but there is no way to begin construction of the interface until I (we) get passwords. This completely baffles me. I had no problem getting my other five sites locked in, and now have three of them partially, or perhaps I should say, primitively composed and viewable with any Net browser on a good day when bandwidth (wireload) is available. I don't mean to be talking over your head but I'm just venting I guess, puzzled by this anomaly. Since I am virtually stealing these free sites with fake E-mail addresses (not my own, in duplicity) I am powerless to deal with the Geopages people on this issue. Nuff said until I can chat orally with you.

Meanwhile the whole right side of my mouth hurts and my belly's bulging beyond gluttony's fair pace, and oh man, can't measure the nasty aches and jumping pains stirring me crazy, rattling all my muscles & bones. Sue just walked in and we both swore to cut out this badass drunkenness routine for good before it rots us beyond redemption. But, of course I've been swearing this after every drunk for years now, and while I'm doing better, my calculations fail me, as next time always seems to be just around the corner with some friend's face attached to it. Fact is I'm just a social mess. Can't go out without drinking. Don't wanna go out when I'm not drinking, but can't stay cooped up ALL the time, whatta mess! Trust that you feel better after knowing I feel better than it surely reads, surely. Until later...

Hangovers, toothaches, passwords, and the professionals who own them,

Fats

© 1995 - 2013, Gabriel Thy. All rights reserved.

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"Ignorance and virtue suck on the same straw. Souls grow on bones, but die beneath bankers' hours.""


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