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Some Enchanted Evening by Ray Printer Friendly

When I was thinking about tonight this afternoon, it went an entirely different way. See, when I was imagining it, what happened was, I came home, caught a quick nap, and then stayed up late writing some incredible shit.

As I think you probably know by now, that didnít happen. I came home, and before I even managed to crawl onto my nap blanket (the one I lay on before Iíve taken a shower at the end of the day), my princess called. In all fairness, I had called her before I got home, and she was just returning my call.

I dozed off as soon as we got off the phone, and although I managed to sleep for quite a while, I didnít feel at all rested when I got up. I noticed there was a new voice mail awaiting me, and checked it out to discover that a friend of mine had arrived in Austin, and was wondering if I wanted to meet up. He mentioned the name of a place, but I couldnít make it out, no matter how many times I listened to the voice mail.

He told me I could call him back at a certain number, and also mentioned that he would probably call back when they left for the place. I took a shower and then called the number on my phone. The woman who answered informed me that my friend and his woman had already set out for the night.

I decided to wait around, just in case he called. I decided to watch a movie while I waited (Taking Lives, which wasnít too bad, but not all that great, either). By the time it ended, it was pretty late, and I figured there was no chance that my friend was calling, which meant I didnít have to drive anywhere.

Which meant that it was time to start drinking and writing. Itís been about two hours now, and I havenít done much of either. Tossed back a shot, which was just enough to make me even sleepier, and Iíve written just enough to tease myself. ďSee? Youíre on a roll! Keep it up!Ē Then BANG! Nothiní. So many false starts that itís barely worth typing real words anymoreóI could save much time and effort by just randomly hammering keys and then deleting whatever ended up on the screen.

Iíve been sitting too long, and itís getting mighty uncomfortable, or so my back keeps telling me.

And you know what the real pain in the ass is? When I was at work today, I had tons of ideas about what I was going to write about tonight. Some of it was actually even good (as good as it gets, anyways).

But now that Iím sitting in front of a computer, rather than on a forklift, or in a truck that smells like rotting plastic and cat piss, I canít think of a damn thing.

As if that isnít enough, I see that Michael Jackson is in the news again. Fuckiní freak. This guy is the best proof that time machines donít exist, because if they did, I would totally come back and drown him when he was still a baby. Or feed him to a lion. Something.

So the evening isnít going nearly as well as I had hoped. And my hand smells funny.



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