Hep Cat!

As has probably come to be pretty evident, I'm quite a catch in the relationship department. Because of this, from time to time friends of mine have tried to set me up with different women. This has rarely worked out, but when it does, it's fine. I'm not somebody to turn down a shot at free vagina. Coincidentally, "A Shot at Free Vagina" is the name of a shooting gallery at my neighborhood porn store. At least it's a wall of rubber vaginas that I call a shooting gallery. Whatever.

Well, a friend of mine recently said that there was a girl that was really cute that he wanted to set me up with. He described her, physically (I mean that he described what she looked like, not that we were playing a game of charades), to me, and everything sounded fantastic. I was kind of excited about the idea of meeting this girl. I wasn't too worried about her finding me attractive since, as is obvious, chicks dig a man in a Mexican wrestling mask.

But, like everything in my life, there was a little caveat attached to the end of this idea. He informed me that the girl who I may be meeting sort of had a problem. No, she wasn't retarded (as we know, that's no problem with me), and, no, she didn't used to be a man (again, probably not a problem with me). He kind of snuck in the fact at the very end of the conversation that this girl, this really cute girl, kind of had a case of Hepatitis C. And also, that she got this Hepatitis C because she used to be a drug addict. Oh, and one more thing, that I didn't really need to worry about her having Hepatitis C for long because she asked Jesus to get rid of it for her, so now it was just a matter of time until it was all cleared up. Because Jesus is just like a box boy at a supermarket. Some kid got into a box of Hepatitis C in the store, "Cletus, clean-up on aisle six please. It's the Hepatitis again!"

Although she sounds like quite the catch, I'm afraid that I'm going to have to pass on this situation. Even somebody as shallow as my ass couldn't look past a former junkie with Hep C and a case of Jesus Jonesing (not the disease where people break into "Right Here, Right Now" at any moment, it's one's constant jonesing for Jesus), just for a chance at maybe bumping uglies with a cute girl. Maybe it's because I'm selfish and I actually enjoy having a functioning liver. What a fucking dick I am.

On a completely different note, I found out yesterday that I've been a grumpy dick for a long time. I was cleaning out a bunch of shit in my room--getting rid of the mounds of unnecessary crap that a pack rat like myself accumulates--when I ran across a journal that I had to write when I was in sixth grade. This was an ongoing journal, a dialogue of sorts, that we maintained with the teacher. She would write back and respond to things that we wrote. Well, I was writing about how excited I was to turn twelve because, in my house, that meant I could babysit (Jesus Christ, I was so goddamn gay). Then, in a later entry, I wrote about how I was glad that my mom let me babysit my younger brother as a trial run because it taught me how much I hated kids. I even used the word hated. I was so proud of the prepubescent me because I had always wondered when I began to become such a rock-solid piece of evil crap and now I know: the sixth grade. There are still bits of childish innocence interspersed throughout, but there is an occasional sentence where I may as well have been writing about how much I wanted to rape a coma victim.

Interesting thought of the day:
Do people with Tourette's Syndrome ever say stuff that even surprises them? "Did I just say, 'I want to fuck a lifeboat?' What the hell is wrong with me?"