Meredith

"For a good time call Meredith"

That was the number in the bathroom stall of the 'Lazy S' bar.  I was in a mood to drink and to drink a lot.  I was somewhere between feeling sorry for myself and not giving a fuck when I noticed Meredith's number on the wall.  Normally, I wouldn't even bat an eye or give a second thought to such a number that was most likely scrawled there by some scorned lover that thought her to be a whore, but what do I know.

I step outside to get away from the bad karaoke, only to step into the stifling heat of a mid-summer's night.  I grab a cigarette, pull my phone out of my pocket and dial the number.  The alcohol has me sweating like a Salem witch on trial but I'm nervous and anxious to see what this call brings forth.

2 a.m. and I'm dialing some number found on a bathroom wall.  Good way to be found dead in a week, I think to myself.

The phone rings three times and as I am about to hang-up on a bad idea, she picks up. "Hello?" she says in a sleepy just woken up voice.

"Is this Meredith?" I ask.

"Yes.  Who's asking?"

"I...uh...got your number...um..." Stammering on the words as I try to figure out how to explain I came about her number, then I just say, "Are you looking for a good time?"

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"No. It is not.  Are you looking for a good time?  Cause I'm in the mood for one."

"Look," she says with slight annoyance in her voice, "I am not a hooker or some slut.  Did Greg put you up to this?"

"I don't know a fucking Greg.  I'm looking for something wet to jerk off into and your it."

"I told you, I'm not a fucking whore."

"And I'm not looking to pay."

A long silence ensues.  For a moment I think she hung up and then, "Do you smoke?"

"You want me to pick you up some smokes on my way over?" I ask rather sarcastically.

"No dumbass.  Do you smoke weed and do you have any?  Those are my terms.  No weed, no good time.  Got it?"

Her terms?  Sounds good to me.  "Deal."

Wish me luck.

Celebrity

I want to be a celebrity.

Not a super-famous, ultra-rich Mel Gibson or Nicholas Cage but a quasi-famous with a loyal following of mindies (pronounced mind-ee-s, sort of like my name, mind-es; NOT mind-ez or meend-ees) to be there to support all of my horrible endeavors into entertainment as well as the massive popular successes.

Of course that means I either need to move to Hollywood to get a chance at stardom to be able to realize this dream; form a band and become wildly popular with crazed half-naked wimmenz throwing themselves at me; become a comedian to have the world laugh at my awesome sense of humor; or be the next Stephen King and write a plethora of books that make me famous.

Really I am hoping this little blog will take off and lead me to the greatness that I am destined for but so far I am still waiting for that ship to pull into the station.

Now what to do with my new found celebrity status, money, power and influence?

Oh, I know, I'll start some fucking feel good non-profit organization to have my fans shell out their hard earned cash to support just because my name and ugly mug happens to be poster boarding.

That seems to be the way that celebrities do things.  Become famous through their trade, make lots of money, spend money on ridiculous amounts of stupid shit and just when their famous-ness starts to fade, start up some organization to help overweight kittens escape possible devouring by malnourished children in Thailand.

Like today I saw an ad for some foundation by Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore with their doe-ful eyed faces asking for us to support their cause.

I barely have enough to support my cause of buying beer to get drunk while watching porn on my computer.

Ok.  I just looked up Demi and Ashton's cause...it's to end child sex slavery.  I feel like an ass now.

Just a little.

Not gonna stop me though.

Good luck with that little endeavor of stopping child sex slavery.  I'm sure if you ask real nice like, the richer than you dirty bastards that buy children for sex slavery will just go, "Damn, you are SSSOOOO right.  My bad."

Me personally, when I get rich and popular, I am going to try to keep those sex abused kiddos from eating the overweight kittens with your money.

My money will be used for an on site brewery so I will never have to go to the store ever again to buy beer.

Ever.

Again.