Long Night...

Celtics lost again last night. Frustrated, I decided to give this girl a visit.

This girl I went out with once, that decided she didn't want to return my emails, phone calls, pages, faxes, and letters to her work.

Not one to easily give up, I decided to go right to the source of the heartbreaker: her apartment. Except when I got there, I was a little nervous, so I decided to let off some steam by hiding in her backyard, polishing off a bottle of Jack Daniels while mustering the courage to personally tell her I'm the love of her life.

I decided to go for it. I took the biggest rock I could find, and smashed her basement window. I wanted to look my best, so I was wearing a pretty sharp black Calvin Klien t-shirt, along with black jeans, black boots, and a black ski mask.

Creeping up the stairs, I opened the door to the first floor to a vicious feline staring at me. Making a threatining "purrrr" sound, I swiftly crushed it's skull with my steel-toe boot. Nothing could stop my quest to find my love. It was like that fairy tale, where that chick was waiting up at the top of the tower, or something. I knew my bitch was waiting in her bedroom on the second floor listening to her new Britney Spears cd.

I stumble upstairs, drunk from the JD, trying to remember what door her bedroom was. Actually, I've never been in her house....but you know that feeling you get, like, when you're betting on that certain dog, and you just KNOW he's going to win? I had that feeling when I heard the creeking and moaning coming through the far door on the left...she was CHEATING!

So I bust in the room, holding my empty bottle of Jack in one hand, dead cat in the other, and say "YO BIT..." to the sight of these two fat middle aged people trying to cover their pasty white asses. "Who in the hell is you?" said the guy...I was all, "I'm here to claim my love, Ms. Veronica!" They were all, "who the hell is Veronica?"

Looking around, I noticed outside the window the street sign underneath that said "West St." Then I realized Veronica didn't live on West St, but "Westfield St."

I was all, "sorry about your cat," then ran down the stairs, into my car, and went home.

Beautiful day today, no?