Shaking

I had an awful night at work on Friday.

I had the bright idea of buying some caffeine pills, you know, because I'm too chicken to snort coke off the toilet seats at work. So I took 2 before work (400 mg worth). I figured they would make me peppy and friendly. Well a few seconds into dancing for my first customer of the night, he commented that I was shaking. I was, and at that point I realized maybe controlled substances aren't the best way to make it through the night. I was so worried I was going to pass out on main stage, my knees kept collapsing beneath me, and I was breaking out into a cold sweat. I rested a little, and somehow managed to make it through the lame excuse for a night.

I also ran into two guys I went to high school with, and to my surprise they knew who I was. One of them won the title of Homecoming King junior year. It was bound to happen sooner or later.

People under the age of 30 suck, at least in the strip club environment, or any environment where the exchange of money for goods and services is concerned. After I sit and talk with you for nearly an hour, don't hand me a fucking dollar and expect me to get down on my knees and suck your dick. It's a dollar, you didn't fucking make my night. Fucking kids.

I stopped by Waffle House after work; it's a new tradition of mine. Unfortunately it was pretty busy (at 4:30 in the morning), which always makes me feel awkward. Especially when there are crowds of young people. I'm in my street clothes (obviously), but my face is caked with stale looking make-up, and I smell like a homeless shelter, or what I imagine a homeless shelter smells like, seeing as I've never set foot in one.

When I got home I was hit with an intense wave of depression, which I'm guessing was caused by the various substances in my system, which were wearing off. I popped two sleeping pills and dozed off to an infomercial about a quick cooking convection oven.