So he actually showed up even though I had convinced myself that the pool game May and I played the hour before was somehow prophetic of how the night would go i.e. sucking lots of ass.

And, yet, it kinda was some odd sort of parallel.

You see, we fucked up some easy shots, but we also made some totally hustler moves.

You know what? I'm going to stop w/the pool game analogy or whatever I'm doing.

He showed up and talked to us and he's nice. I was blabbering about Ice-T and the crazy fucks at work and god knows what else. His eyes didn't roll back in his head or anything, so that's a good thing, right?

The duck was mentioned only once and in passing. He didn't seem to pick up on it.

Which is also a good thing cuz I need to stop using my duck to pick up boys.

Anyway, as he was leaving, I asked if he wanted my number. Fucking smooth as shit, right? Yeah. That's sarcasm right there. What the fuck is he going to say? No? Yeah, what the fuck ever. So now it's up to him and I hate being in this position.

Fuck it.

Tomorrow night, I'm hanging out w/my best friends and we're going to drink some 40s from Hawaii and listen to Styx records.

Cuz we're that hardcore.

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