**They say that if you lied down with dogs, you get fleas in the morning. I say that you choose your dogs, and then love your fleas. To hell with everybody else.
1. With the kababatas (my childhood friends for more than ten years now), it's a couple of smokes after dinner. And then a few more after that until it proceeds to three hours of chain smoking. Somebody then takes out a pot of hot water, and then it's a coffee party up until breakfast.
Recently, we have been actively interrupting this itinerary with movie reviews. Yup, movie reviews. Turns out everybody is a critic, and though it's different levels of extrospection uncommon to people our age, it's still a barrel of monkeys and all that funny snot.And then when we do get more than the required amount of nicotine in the system, our brains are just soo pumped, we can talk about anything.
Sometimes, a conversation starts with a tsunami. It then mutates into this funny assortment of concerns which also mentions the government, religion, sexuality, and all that jazz nobody ever touches with a ten foot stick. The last time we had a long talk was over a pot of coffee and a couple of packs of lights. This was brewed after a bottle of tequila, and believe me, alcohol plus nicotine plus caffeine made me so eager to admit I was gay all over. If I hadn't done that before, I knew I sure will.
2. With the queers, it's laughing our hearts out, and then getting laid. OR getting laid first, and then laughing out loud. And it also happens too, y'know, laughing out loud while getting laid on account of some people can be such stupid fuck buddies.Here's a piece of unsolicited advice, a great lay isn't really with how your partner looks like. It's not even with the range of his shotgun. It's not EVEN with how he uses it, since there's no OTHER way to appreciate it with. I would describe a good lay as this ONE sex machine who knows how to work his tongue, knows how to move his body and use his hands, and has the best damn timing like a Rolex.
To quote the magnificent Stan Lee, "'nuff sed."
3. With the SnB boys, it's playing pool straight for at least two hours. There was a time when we did this for seven hours straight, but there was a thirty minute interval for dinner, and then six and a half hours of uninterrupted gambling.There are times when a gay guy appreciates the male stink, most especially when it's stink coming from the people you're having fun with. It's so fun, I never did mind getting all sweaty and oily and dirty with my right hand all blued up from the cue chalk. Minus being naked from the waist up, I WAS still one of the guys back then, and I'd revel in my pool brilliance while I trash talked like Tom Sawyer.
Sometimes, me and the girls, the SnB girls, would get set and pull an all nighter over a case or two of beer. Or three, but it doesn't really matter since we'd be laughing at each other in the morning over who looks the most like shit.
Those were easily some of my best days.
4. Random stuff with officemates from my different companies. But it's usually getting shitfaced for the most part. And kicking the crap out of them over a few games of pool.
One of the scariest things is a yuppy, on a payday, with his office buds, and helluva lot of time to spare.
5. The nerds are gone, but there was a time when it was nothing but video games and CCG's all along. We never knew how to smoke then, but if we did, we could have died already.
This was mostly back in high school where I associated myself with this group of nerds. Yup, nerds. So there goes a confession, and here's another one: I graduated with honors back then thanks to this unlikely motley crew.Do I want to see any one of them sometime soon, sit down and have a cup of hot chocolate? Hell yeah.
Sometimes, when I'm about to run out of things tos write about, I turn to what I'm holding in my right hand for inspiration. I'm referring to a cigarette.
