October 8th, 2004

punch

Bitch Slap.

Went out last night on account of a friend getting married soon.

I was dreading it, believe it or not, because I still hadn’t completely gotten Vegas out of my innards. On top of that, it was a Thursday night. When I was a spry young lad, I could stagger home thoroughly shit-housed from a night of clubbing, then, four hours later, pop right out of bed feeling peppy like a leprechaun. I’d leap straight into my office and dance the jig o' victory.

This morning my girlfriend took one look at me and suggested I call in sick. But despite my pale complexion and bloodshot eyes, I actually didn’t feel that bad. This despite the fact that she found me passed-out in my chair in front of the computer at 3 AM. How I ended up there, I don’t know. Actually I do know: My liver got bitch-slapped by three bottles of scotch.

Speaking of bitch slaps, could a Japanese person take a look at this video clip and explain to me what the hell is going on there?

Someone might chalk it up as yet another example of the Japanese being crazy bastards, but I find it to be a refreshing method of conflict resolution for women. Quite frankly I’m sick of all these blog entries written by females complaining about backstabbing friends or who’s being catty or bitchy. Just stand face-to-face and smack the shit out of each other.


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