A Brief Snippet from Denton, Texas.

5 Jun

Saturday night, I got in my 2002 Honda Civic that I’ve modded to look like a 2002 Honda Civic with lots of hail damage and barreled toward Denton, Texas. City of Dreams. City of Magic. City of Cheap Booze, Cheap Women, and even Cheaper Clothing.

I’m writing this on Thursday. For those of you who don’t “do” math, that’s four days. And for three of those days, I didn’t get on the internet. That means I didn’t check facebook, twitter, my e-mail, my blog stats, or look at my favorite picture of a human ever. I didn’t check these things because I was “vacationing.”

Below is my day by day diary of my Denton vacation.

Day 1:

“I love this city,” I say to my friend, Chris, who is holding my beautiful quaff of curly hair back as I vomit into a storm drain.

“I know, buddy. I know.” He pats me on the back with his free hand.

Chris helps me to my feet and, with my left arm slung over his neck, we make the long, staggered walk back to his car. It is Saturday night, but it is also Sunday morning. In Denton, Texas, time is a liquid, fickle thing.

“In Denton, Texas, time is a liquid, fickle thing,” I say, tilting my head up to speak to Chris.

“Jesus, man, your breath.” Chris grimaces and turns his head, making his nose as far from me as possible. “Stop it.”

“I’m sorry, Christian.”

“Stop calling me Christian.”

“Am I dead, too?” I ask. Chris starts to answer, then stops himself, beginning a new thought.

“Is this a LOST thing?” Chris asks.

“We’re all lost, Christ.”

“Calling me ‘Christ’ is worse.”


“I promise you it is.”

Chris drags me to the passenger side of his car, pulls the door open, and drops me in.

It totally was a LOST thing, by the way.

When we get back to Chris’s house, he pulls me into the living room and drops me onto the couch. I begin a slow crawl to the nearest computer. I need to know who’s all over the book of my face. My face book.

Social networking is a terrifying, godless enterprise.

“CHRIS!” I call from the kitchen. “CHRIS, your computer’s broken!”

Chris rushes in to find me laying on the ground with my hand in his toaster, which I have pulled onto the ground.

“God in Heaven,” Chris says to himself.

I fall asleep somewhere soon thereafter.

Day 2:

I wake up feeling the exact inverse of the euphoria I felt the night before. I feel stale, like I’ve past my expiration date, but I’ve been pushed far back into the refrigerator behind a tub of butter and have been all but forgotten. Well, I’m still here.

I’m still here.

I roll off the couch and make a slow crawl to the bathroom. If I can get there, all will be taken care of. In the bathroom is everything I will need for the next hour. There is Advil. There is water. There is shower. There is working toilet. Ironically enough, those are the same selling points I use on my OKCupid account.

I come out of the bathroom refreshed and ready to take on the day.

“Morning, Chris,” I say, sitting down at the kitchen table. Chris sets a cup of coffee in front of me, then sits down with a cup of his own.

“I’m thinking about going swimming with some girls today.”

“I’m thinking about telling you that I peed in your linen closet,” I respond.

Eight seconds of uninterrupted, tense eye-contact.

I continue, “When’re we going swimming?”

“We’re going in a few minutes. Did you–?” Chris points to his linen closet. His dog is sniffing at the door and scratching at its base.

“Don’t worry about that. Let’s go get some boners.” I get up, throw my coffee cup in the sink, and begin walking out to the car. “I’m going to need a pair of shorts!” I call. “My other ones are covered in piss!” the front door slams shut and Chris is alone in the kitchen. The room is silent except for the sharp but soft sound of claws on closet door.

We arrive at the pool. Chris and I are joined by our friend Michael, who likes to be called by his last name because, in his words, “First names are for pussies and guys named ‘Kyle.'”

Is he talking about me? I think to myself. Is he? I begin to create a comeback when I see a woman that makes my pants jiggle. Radio silence.

Day 3:

“What?!” I wake up, sitting up with a start. “Bieber?” I ask. It’s been several day since I’ve read any celebrity news. My brain has compensated by creating it in my dreams. I wake up believing that I’m dating a Justin Bieber while also fathering Lindsay Lohan’s illegitimate child and beating Scott Disick’s ass.

“You’re dreaming again,” Chris says to me. I love Chris.

I usher myself back to sleep, where I will undoubtedly bang Usher.

I love you, readers.

Happy Saturday, everyone.

One Response to “A Brief Snippet from Denton, Texas.”

  1. Austin June 5, 2010 at 1:37 am #

    That picture of Derek gets me every time.

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