Oh Punk

You try to be the King, but the Ace is back...

That's right britches, that's right: I'm back -- "ha ha ha" -- back in full effect.

Sorry for pulling a Chappelle, but with moving into my new place / my new work-out regimen / everything else, some blog M.I.A time was exactly what I needed. Sorry y'alls, but I actually have a life. A life son. Life. Plus you can't get laid sitting in front of a computer right?*

Anyhow, speaking of comebacks, I was listening to XM81 and they dropped the new Bananarama single: Look on the Floor (Angel City Radio Edit)

Wait a sec? Are we talking about the Banarama of Venus and Cruel Summer fame? No way - impossible! So it got me thinking. How old are these broads now? They must be hags! Think about it - they must look like Blondie. They were already adults in the 80s.

So the first thing I did this morning was a quick Google search. The results: Gat damn -- they're cougarefic! Hot. They're better looking than they were back in the 80's and they're certainly better looking than most girls my age *shakes head*

Speaking of girls, I seem to attract all the prychos -- pretty, but psychotic. Last week I gave my number to some pretty thing at the bar across from my condo. The next day she called me 27 times before the next day had ended.

And tonight? Don't even get me started. Psycho number #2 of the last little while calls "Hey, I'm downstairs, buzz me in..." -- what the fuck? I had told her earlier tonight "I'm tired and hadn't slept last night, so DON'T come over."

She begged 8 times to hang out for just a little while, but I held my guns and said NO repeatedly (Note: Pretty girls, your "Hi I'm pretty" games don't work anymore, everyone knows pretty girls are a dime a dozen these days. It's not like it's 1992 anymore when there was a serious shortage. Those days are over!)

Anyhow, to make a long story short, I told her over the "buzzer" in the guest parking vestubile that I was exhausted and that I was going to bed and didn't buzz her in. Laugh! It's mean -- but she's a psycho. The last thing I need is to take a pen to my trachea. She's probably still downstairs plotting to kill me.

I swear, that security guard Sunjeil or whatever his name is better not sell me out and let her in while I sleep.

Damn it.

It's alright. I can take her.

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