Asleep Always

Today was perfect.

I got up and got on IRC right away. I didn't fuck around. It was early in the morning, and the first thing that I did was get on that problem that vexed me earlier. I was never so pissed. I struggled with the problem and the guys on IRC told me to call customer support and get it over with. I called and got this obnoxious tech, that seemed pretty chewed up that I knew what I was doing. But I told him right off the bat what I did, and this Bejerkowitz tries to show off by attempting to confuse me with jargon and doing things several different ways. I was proud of myself...I was keeping up with him, and then he crossed my problem. It was a glaring error and I should have figured it out myself. I was filling my information in on the wrong tab on the router's application.

Just that simple. One tab over and I would have solved the problem on my own. This Bejerkowitz accidentally disconnects himself fucking around with my IP addresses and Skype didn't like that. He was dumped faster than yesterdays garbage, leaving me stranded in the middle of his bullshit support. I call back and find that he gave me the wrong case number, so they can't relocate 'genius' to help me out. This new 'customer support specialist' then, instead of telling me that he can't get ahold of Bejerkowitz, starts asking me the same stupid assed introductory questions in an even worse accent. I apologized to this new guy, told him that I was very displeased but it was not his fault and hung up.

Then I backed out of all the fucked up changes Rocketboy made to my config- uration and, with this new knowledge that I gleaned from him re-did the setup and POW, it worked like a charm. My mIRC application was fully up and ready. With a level of joy, I hopped, skipped and jumped downstairs to the cafeteria this morning for breakfast.

Of course there would be something there to burst my bubble, as well as break my balls. Firstly, they were not set up as of yet, so we had to form a line outside in the hallway. I stood with four others waiting while these mental defectives ran back and forth, like, crack addicts looking for loose rocks. They were missing this, they didn't have that. I proved to be a long wait. I stood there with my fist up my ass, growling this morning, until the line started moving and I got my breakfast and lunch.

Suddenly, there is something up under my armpit again, I jumped back. It was Snow White. I hate it when she does that shit. What??!! "Hobobob, I have forms for you to sign." More forms, huh? I follow her into her office and sign forms. "What can I DO for you, Hobobob?" She asks earnestly. Get butt naked and fuck? I look at her. Actually that wouldn't be so bad of an idea. No nothing Snow, I'm fine. "Just tell me what it is...that's what I'm here for." It's fine, Snow. No problems. "Have you been getting out of your room?" OH NO, not this again! Should I lie? No. I've been stuck inside for a few. "Need me to come upstairs?" God, is this a joke? I wanted to start getting lewd. I've been on IRC too long. On IRC, that is the lingua franca...double ententes and suggestive statements. I stifled down the urge to say: Yeah, c'mon upstairs in nothing but your underpants and we'll discuss this further. Instead I quickly blew her off. She was being TOO helpful.

"Well, we've gone as far as we can with your therapy, Hobobob," Dr. L. says to me. "You've come to the point where you have achieved all of your goals." I haven't run up and down the halls here drunk out of my skull with no clothes on yet, I say to myself. "You've even balanced your drinking. Did you really stop taking your NALTREXONE?" Hell yeah, Dr. L. "Amazing. Have you been drinking this week?" One...maybe two days. "Impressive. Well do you think you would like to continue treatment at an alcoholic's anonymous? Not really. The last time I was at one of those I was forced to do so by order of the State of New Jersey. Fuck that shit in real life. Besides, they are into abstinence, and I'm shooting for casual drinker.

"Hmmmmm," she says. "Well, there is a thing called: Harm Reduction. It's for hard intravenous drug users. Believe it or not but it teaches them how to use drugs safely until their therapy sets in. You know, how to find clean needles, the risk of sharing them, how to not puncture through veins. Stuff like that. Maybe there is a harm reduction for alcoholics." She thinks about it. "But then again, drinking is a slippery slope. I caution you that you may have a level of control now, but it can easily turn on you." Let me worry about that Doc. We Hobos are made of pretty strong stock. "Well considering your background with alcohol...." It's alright Doc. Even pedophiles get second chances after jail to return to society...why can't a fucking alcoholic? Right? She nods.

I end up in Starbucks, waiting on my brother and Oz. Both arrive and we have a long, animated conver- sation until Oz has to leave and we work on the grant proposal. We make little headway, and the night ends with me heading home in the drizzling rain. A typical New York night. I get home, and what is the first thing that I do???

I get on IRC. See who's home? What are they doing now at this hour of the night? I stay on until 2:00am with the gang. We talk about lesbian porn and why do the strangest things turn men on. Something always has to accompany women. Women and guns, women and cars, women and penises, stuff like that. Women have to BE doing something WITH something in porn. We laugh all night long! I then crawl into bed and go out like a light. It was a long day.

Hobobob