Drunken Blogging

Good morning peoplenesses

I am very drunk right now. I've been qworking my way through a very large bottle of wine. M y friend was supposed to help me, but due to Japanese polietenesss she stopped after her thrid glass. So heere I am.

Anyway, life in Kateland for the last weekishness or so has involved lots of help on the domestic violence specetrum of things. My friend left me a voice mail last Saturday morniing saying something along hte lines of "I'm in danger, please help me". So that is what I have been doing. "help" has involved trip[s to the emergency room, filing police reports, and generally b eing paranoid about the paranoid schizophrenics in cars behind me.

I am drunk.

Please forgive the typos

Anyway, my friend was beaten and run over by her boyfriend. I would very much like to beat the snot out of him, but instead i am playing th role of compassionate friend and listening to how much she loves the asshole. It is driving me crazy. But I am holding it togehter with the help of lots of alcohol and cigarettes. Cigarettes are the most wonderful invention ever in the hostory of the world.

I would like to use the boyfriend's real name here, but I prefer not be run over by a car or kickedc repeatedly in the head, so I will use a psuedonym (not like I've never done that before) and call him Yucca, which seems appropriate given the circumstances and his actual first name. I can't believe I spelled psuedonym correctly. Seems a bit strange since I'm seeing everything a bit double vision at the moment...

Mmmmm, wine will help with that.

Anyway, Yucca is a shit-dick-fucker-bastard-piece-of-fuck-wwanking-cazzone-pig-fucking-(which seems a bit insulting to my firend)-asshole, qwho needs to be shot and put out of everyon's miserey. Instead he has checked himself into a metal hospital. Accoring to his mother anyway. We're not sure when he'll actually be arrested. But we have been trying since last SUnday.

The detective, who has really bad hair, saif they would arrest him last Tuesday, but now they're saying they'll arrest him onSunday. Which means they'[ll never arrest him and he'll probasbly co med to my house and murder us in our sleep.

That's what I get for trying to help peo[le.

Anyway, I would like to make a bit of a rant on detectives' hairstyles. They have perhaps the worst sense of style that I have ever seen. And I have lived in Italy.

I really thought the buffant had gone out of style several years ago, but it is apparently live and well among Denver police officials. Dude who interviewed us at the hospital had serious poof issue. And Dude who interviewed us at the central police building had some very very deep and pervasive issues with gel.

Aside fronm thqat Denver detectives are butts and I would like to smack all of them, although it was fun to park in the special parking lot.

Hopefully I will not die in the next couple of days at the hands of Yucca.

He likes to sell CD's illegally on the side of the road.

He also has 3 kids by a woman he claims is not his wife. She claims differently.

And he knows what car I drive and has my home phone number.

Also, just so everyone knows. I have size D boobs. They are currently hanging out of my dress and I spent most of the evening fliting with an Italian named Gianni. ZI thin he has a girlfriend, but I don't care.

So yeah, I'm going to die at the hands of Yucca or Gianni's girlfriend. We shall see.

Now I'm going to go pass out. It seems to be the best option. Or maybe I will have another cigarette.