The trashcan obsessional

WEEKEND OF WEEKENDS.  A bloody (literally) mess of hoppin’ and laughin’ nonstop.  I got a good crew here in Richmond, as spotty as it may be.  Sunday rolls around and I take a new co-worker of mine to Karen’s for fried bologna and banter about that fuckin’ amazing 96′ Chateau-Nuf-du-Pape that was brought by a friend to a killer grill out the night before.  Could never afford that shit, but i totally appreciated the gracious nature of a bro that wanted to see the excitement around how rad a bottle of wine can be.

Pop off acouple of Wire episodes that I’m revisiting and call it a night.  I woke up to an out there voice mail from an 832 area code, which is apparently Cleveland.  It was the voice on a slightly deranged bro somewhat drunk and talking to anyone he can on the street, as well as my voicemail.  Laying in bed, taking this all in at 6:30 in the morning was weird enough, but damnit if i wasn’t scratchin’ to hear this guy’s voice.  My boss later told me advised me to hold off the phone call to the guy because he needed em around for the busy season, but I couldn’t;t hold myself back!  I NEEDED TO TALK TO THAT MOTHERFUCKER AND SEE WHAT WAS GOIN THROUGH HIS HEAD.  It is probably way to indulgent and possibly injuresome to the individual because I probably wouldn’t of held the situation in a delicate manner due to the fact I am prone to fits of unproperness outside of work.  But seriously, I wanted to be apart of this man named Jordan’s head space.  I need that fucker to call me tonight.  I saved his number.  Here is to the future of me hopefully not getting my throat cut and my bowels removed.