Bad Days

Six days until the sweet relief of maturity. Six days until I drip water on the straw wrapper of my life and it grows into a writhing worm 30 years long.

Goddamnit, why didn’t I notice the student discount on the fringe tickets? Oh snap! I should have bought a five show punch card for $45 and saved even more! Argh!

Okay, so I’ve missed a couple of possible shows tonight, but I can still get my shit together for a 10PM showing of 10-Speed Revolution, and then maybe the 11:30PM testicle show.

Now if only I could get some booze beforehand. Hmm. I understand that there are these things called buses that go from place to place and occasionally allow drunken louts to lie on the floor and swear quietly as long as they don’t smell or touch the other passengers. What am I saying? I used to ride the bus all the time. Of course the smelly guys touch the passengers! That’s why they keep raising the rates, because everyone wants to be touched by a hobo! They even made a tv show about it starring Michael Landon! Wait, no, that was “Highway to Heaven.” Hmm. Oh yeah, “Touched By A Hobo” starred Valerie Bertinelli!

Actually, aside from when I used to ride the 16 my bus rides were always pleasant affairs. Now where is that 4 schedule I grabbed at the Art Fair? Oh well, that’s what the web is for. What bar is closest to the Brave New Workshop and serves the strongest booze for cheapest? Hmm. It’s only half a mile to the Minneapolis Theatre Garage, on Franklin and Lyndale. Then the 4 is right there to bring me home again. It’s not the subway, but at least it doesn’t smell like burning corpses.

If you miss me, I could probably use a phone call so I can annoy the shit out of the other people on the bus.

Time to put on some pa- hey! I’m already wearing pants! Hooray!

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