A wise 17 year old once told me "you are who you fuck" though maybe it's more like: you are who you can.

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I


  hate to beat a dead horse, but in case you haven't seen it, Elly's site starts out today with a tearful rant against pathetic inconsequential jealous little insignificant me. I've archived her page in my site since you never know where choice gems like this will end up when the webmaster involved is standing on a ledge with a gun in one hand and a bottle of Jim Beam in the other.

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I got a raise not long ago, and boy was it evident in today's paycheck. I loved working for Comet for just peanuts. But what can I say? I'm not just earning peanuts anymore. Now I feel like I owe them Peggy's first born.

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B


ack at my house, I replaced a blinker module on my Dodge Dart. In so doing I managed to jostle aside the brake light switch, causing the brake lights to be on all the time. The effort required to restore the brakelights to a functional condition resulted in torn knuckles and seemingly litres of sweat. Today was the hottest day so far this year. It made the Corona I shared with Matthew Hart taste like a fruit from the non-mythic garden of Eden.

M


atthew Hart, not exactly known for his directness, amazed me today by being the one to make clear our position to Peggy and Zach. He actually verbally gave them individually a month's notice to move out. As expected, they don't have any money to help us with this month's utilities (it seems they just assumed we were providing for them as an act of charity). Matthew assured them that their moving out was far more important than raising money for utilities.

I hate the arrogance of her laying around all day, thinking the world owes her because she's being fruitful and multiplying.

I never look Peggy in the eye anymore, and I never say anything to her. Women have powers of intuition that surpass those of men, but even a big mulletized steelworker would be able to tell something here is amiss. And today Peggy told Matthew that she thinks I hate her, which is kind of true. I hate the disregard she has for the relentless future. I hate the arrogance of her laying around all day, thinking the world owes her because she's being fruitful and multiplying.

Zach went off to work, this time with the intention of quitting. It's the only job in town anyone will give him, but it cramps his drinking schedule too much. He was the one who bought the Coronas, you know.

After Zach was gone and the world was safe for those who can afford their alcoholism, Matthew and I contemplated a possible beverage to fill the evening's void. That's when Persad and Monster Boy rolled up with 12 Rolling Rocks. We killed those off in record time. The email that killed the neurotic webmaster was the arrival of thirsty Leticia the Brazilian Girl and Deya. Then came Jesse. He's the guy who's been getting it on with Theresa lately, but jealous tension with Persad wasn't immediately evident.

A


  contingent set out to get some cheap beer, but the JPA Fastmart was not the place to go. Their markup on the cheap beer is the same amount (not percentage) as their markup on the expensive beer. This pushes most cheap beer into the category of ridiculously expensive. So I drove us up to Farmer Jack and we picked up a case of Natural Ice (5.9 percent alcohol).

I drank quite a lot and smoked some pot. I was so tired that I lay down in my bed for a nap. Persad came by to ask if he could borrow my bike. I'm very glad I said no. I've decided to be very careful about who I allow to use my stuff. Regard for personal property is worse in my house than in any other environment I've ever lived in.

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W


hen I awoke, I rejoined the party. Everyone was visibly intoxicated, though I was now sober. This was a problem, because it made everyone seem incredibly stupid. Deya was much more talkative, which was kind of refreshing, but she had a tendency to slur her words.

Lots had happened while I'd been asleep. Theresa had come by and gotten into a huge altercation with Persad. In a fit of jealous rage, Persad slashed the tires on Jesse's bicycle and challenged him to a fight. Jesse just shurgged and called him an asshole.

Persad had stolen Theresa's Monte Carlo and was driving away, with Deya, Theresa and Leah in hot pursuit in another car behind him.

What followed was a car chase up a hill to UVA's observatory (on a road a mile or so away called "Observatory"). Persad had stolen Theresa's Monte Carlo and was driving away, with Deya, Theresa and Leah in hot pursuit in another car behind him. The Monte Carlo was doing badly as it climbed the steep grade to the observatory; the intrepid girls in pursuit said they saw smoke pouring from under the hood.

Then they'd gone to a really pathetic party somewhere.

Leah and Matthew's friend Shonan had come by, along with Shonan's sister Natalie and a couple of geeky guys, one of whom builds robots for the UVA hospital.

Natalie was the chief sexual interest for the evening. You'd think the interest would be coming from me, being that I'm the only one not spoken for who lives in my house. But I had no real interest in Natalie. Leah, on the other hand, wanted her BAD. She kept making little moaning noises just out of Natalie's earshot and rolling her eyes to look at me whenever Natalie turned around or moved away. Then Leah would threaten me not to make any advances.

When everyone gets drunk, all kinds of little jealousies come out. Whenever Deya would catch me talking to Leah, she'd march over and see to it that nothing was going on. When Leticia and Theresa were briefly on either side of me tearing me up with their nails (I know better to linger long in such an environment these days), Leah threw something at me in what she later admitted was a jealous fit. I think she was jealous both about the girls and me not paying attention to her. But when you're dealing with a mostly lesbian bisexual, it's difficult to say.

They can't live long in the illusion that they have the power to regulate my sexuality.

I hated the feeling that both Deya and Leah were actively throwing a fence of asexuality around me. What if I'd wanted Natalie and she'd wanted me? I had the feeling I'd get in all kinds of trouble or at the very least end up in a terribly embarrasing situation. They can't live long in the illusion that they have the power to regulate my sexuality. Besides, it's grossly unfair. They both share their beds with guys every night.

Josh Mustin came over. He's one of the guys who is unofficially on the "banned" list, along with Wonderboy Neek. But I wasn't going to kick Josh out; he's really not that irritating as long as the music's loud. Deya, on the other hand, started spraying porr Josh with an acrylic varnish ærosol can until he was driven from the premises.

Craziness escalated from there. Leah started kicking items off the living room's parapharnalia table, then throwing bottles about the room. One bottle that she kicked slammed into my right ankle and injured its internal workings. It was all some sort of display to impress the guests with how very punk rock she is. I just wanted it all to stop, and at one point I said, "You win Leah! You're more punk rock than Greenday!"

I jokingly asked her, "what exactly do lesbians do when they fuck?"

Sitting next to her on the couch was a real challenge. She focused on me to commiserate about the ache that made her want to fuck Natalie. I jokingly asked her, "what exactly do lesbians do when they fuck?" She flew into a mock rage and slammed my left knee with a full 1.5 litre jug of vino. It did something terrible to me, and I immediately left and went to my room to sleep.

Later Deya came to my room and sat on my bed on two different occasions. During one of these she was forcibly dragged out by Leah in yet another jealous rage. Who among us was making her jealous, I cannot say.

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