...on the devil's due

so for the last two nights the bastard has been out and about which has kept me from doing the devils work for the artist. you see, the bastard's company is up on the block and that has created a whole lot of uncertainty around the office. so after the "official" announcement, i walk into the editor's office and we discuss it which concludes in the decision to have a staff outing to the bar. 4 gin and tonics later, i get the call from scoop to meet her for drinks. so 4 margarita's later, the bastard is fit to be tied. i roll home and thank god that i had the presence of mind to fall into a cab when i got back to craptastic queens.

flash forward: spent wednesday night at an event with susie kansas. it's like a networking event only everyone is really nice. the bastard loosens up and actually manages to not fall on his face. i could even say i was charming but hell, you're asking me, what did you expect? anyway chicago jerkface shows up only to be a lackluster wingman but who could blame him, he wanted to eat. so we got steak frites. well "i" did. i decided that when i go out to eat with jerkface, i will refer to whatever i am eating as the "grass is greener platter" due to the fact that anything i am eating looks better to him than what he's eating.

flash forward: last night, no plans. time to give the devil his due and i take care of it while watching a bridge too far. this runs into dinner and yet another airing fo enemy of the state. tv's just on for background noise but, i think i've seen this movie almost as much as i've seen "top gun" and "dirty dancing". work gets done by 11:30 but i have to fix it after the treadmill (you see, i'm trying real hard to NOT die). finally, i'm done at 1AM. 1:30 i get drunk texted by scoop. now i'm up. til 3.

flash forward: i slept through the alarm but got up at a decent hour to eat breakfast. only problem is, i poured orange juice into my cornflakes. yes, the bastard has finally exhausted himself enough that he poured orange juice into his cereal. not to be discouraged, i grab a strainer and flip the bowl right into it draining out what was probably 2 or 3 shotglasses worth of orange juice. dumped the frosted flakes back into the bowl and ate my breakfast. came in and sang "step right up" to left hand rob. you know, i see the brick wall coming, but i can't stop the train. chugga chugga, shiteyes!

—the bastard