1988-01-01 - 2:50 a.m.

Here I sit, broken hearted….

Tried to….nevermind….

What I’m really trying to say is:

Here I sit, in Atlanta GA

Bored as fuck

And here to stay.

Only ‘til tomorrow. I guess I can put up with this for 18 more hours.

They say one is the loneliest number. I guess that has to be correct, I mean, all other numbers imply “more than one”, hence, company…companionship. But one doesn’t always have to be lonely. One can be alone, but not necessarily lonely. One can be good. In fact, one is the only number for masturbation, and masturbation is definitely not a lonely type behavior. A bored or horny type of behavior, yes…but not lonely. One, watching tv alone in a hotel room or blogging on a computer is not lonely. I think one is only lonely when one is truly lonely.

I am in Atlanta, alone, yet not feeling lonely.

And while one may be the loneliest number, the loneliest phrase must be, “Table for one please.”.

It doesn’t seem terribly lonely until you actually utter it to a maitre de. (sp?)

I was all dressed up with nowhere to ho.

Like how Ryan assured us he looked very cute today…let me assure you that I looked very cute as well.

I had my nicely shaped brown, suedey like pants on that are kind of flared at the bottom while making my ass look nice and bootylicious, and I had on a tight, button down the front tight brown sweater unbuttoned to a sexy, but modest level.

And I had good hair.

And when I made my way from the ninth floor of the “Ivy Tower”, through the lobby, to the fancy Italian restaurant, I saw some of those Teamsters shoot some stares my way. And I’m not just saying that. They really did.

And I only wish I had the big hairy balls to make my way over to the Parasol Bar, pull out a stool, and sit my ass down and order myself and my ass a drinky poo.

But I didn’t.

I went to go eat.

My waitress was named Zorica and she had a mustache, but she was very nice and personable and didn’t make fun of me once for dining alone.

The restaurant was pretty empty for it being six oclock…or maybe I was just early. In any case, I was ushered to a beautiful booth…large enough for 4 or 5…and had it all to myself. Not that I already felt awkward enough that I was eating by myself.

In case you were wondering, I had a wonderful glass of Merlot, a spinach salad, and the most incredible Veal Scallopine with Risotto. Yum!

And while I was eating, two other lone gentlemen were shown to their tables.

Teamsters they were not. For if they were Teamsters, they would not be dining alone as there were about 300 of them in my hotel.

I imagined approaching them and jovially inviting them to dine along with me seeing as we were all alone and wouldn’t it be nice if we could all eat together.

But then I thought that would be really too sitcommy and gay so of course, I did not.

Then my hairlipped waitress slipped me my bill and thanked me and I put on my lipstick and left.

Got some more stares on my way up to my room, once again wishing I had the guts to go sit at the bar by myself and make friends and drink beers with some Teamsters, but failed miserably and continued the walk to my Iyy Towers.

What does a nice looking woman, alone at a bar say to a bar full of Teamsters?

Does it say, “Hi guys, I’m bored, have one night in Atlanta and I don’t want to spend it alone in my hotel room typing to my blog, yet don’t want you to think I’m here to pick up a fuck buddy?”

Or does it say, “That chick wants some…and I’m just the chunky Teamster to give it to her…Watch me boys.”?

I think the latter, which is why I didn’t.

But also, the place was packed and I’m sure there wasn’t an empty seat anyway.

So, here I sit….

Once again in underpants and tshirt, typing away….drinking more grapefruit and vodka….alone.

One.

Just me.

Wishing I had someone here to make out with…female, male, no preference….just a warm, cozy, beautiful person to hold and rub and kiss….on a big bed.

But my night will end with no such thing.

My night will end after I watch as much of 2000 Miles To Graceland as I can stomach and after I lick my fingertips and play some ping pong with my netherregions until I climax, with lots of sound because I can and then laugh to myself and turn over and go night nights.

A happy ending despite the circumstances.

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