gyrating bhtch


Llangollen Sessions









I Like Portland a Lot
This trip was fucking brilliant. I like Portland a lot.

Saturday afternoon Tough had an in-store performance at Music Millennium. Cool place. I meet two girls there named Robin and Kat. Ended up seeing them at the show later. I end up hanging around with Kat. I was happy just to have a chick to hang around with, cuz with all the coon hounding the band does, anybody else around is lucky to see any pussy. So we're hanging around at the bar, then at the after party, and eventually decide it's time to go back to her place. We jump in a cab. She has a really nice house, with a really nice stereo, on which she proceeds to spin Radiohead's "Hail to the Thief," on vinyl. Sounds fucking brilliant. Next thing you know, we're naked on her living room floor, having sex. She's loud. Almost like she's just yelling.&nb! sp; Call Toughpes; he can do the impression for you; he knows what I'm talking about. So then we crash out. I don't remember what time it was. Maybe 3:30.

I wake up the next morning just before the Bears game. Hungover, sure, but, hell man, it's the Bears. So we watch the first half, and I suggest we go out to get some food and watch the rest of the game. We end up going to Claudia's, where Tuupes and I had just been the Friday before (and where I had convinced some other broad named Andrea to come back to Brud's and sleep with me). We start boozin' it up again. Watch the end of the Bears game, and then watch the next game. She wants to take me to some other place, called Slow Bar. So we go there. Have more drinks. It's a cool place. I'm feelin' pretty sauced. We drive to yet another bar and have one more. We decide to go back to her place, to have some more sex. We're driving and smoking, and have her car stereo cranked, yet again listening to Radiohead. It's a fucking great time.

Then things go south.

We turn a corner, and she starts bawling. Sobbing. Uncontrollably. I have no clue what's going on. I ask her why she is crying. I ask her to tell me what's wrong. She just keeps crying, sobbing. I can't get a word out of her. She's hysterical. I ask her to pull over, because she's driving faster, and I have no idea what's going to happen. She can't even speak. She turns another corner. Now I'm scared, and pissed. It escalates. "PULL OVER!!! STOP THE FUCKING CAR. PULL THE FUCKING CAR OVER!" She does. I step out of the car and try and talk to here some more. All she can do is cry. I shut the door and start walking. She pulls away.

So, I call Brud, tell him what's happened, and he comes and picks me up. As I'm getting in his car, she pulls up to the intersection we're at. That's when this happened:

-Me: What the fuck is going on?!?!?!?

-Her: I'll tell you if you get in the car.

-I'm not getting in the fucking car! What the fuck is going on!?!?

-Just get in the car and I'll tell you.

-NO!!!! What the fuck? There's a car behind you now! Tell me what the fuck is going on or I'm leaving!

-Just get in the car

-No!!!! I'm going home with Brud!

So then Brud and I drove home. I called her later and put her on speakerphone. Apparently her ex-boyfriend (from '04, right Tuupes?) and she had had a restraining order against some psycho stalker chick. For whatever reason she decided to drive by her ex-boyfriend's house, and she saw the psycho stalker chick's car in the driveway. She can't handle this, so she starts bawling.

Next morning Brud and I had a superb breakfast at the Cadillac Cafe.

Freaking great time.
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song length: 00:04:57

song rating: 7.00

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