Its a freezing saturday morning and I've just woken up still drunk from the previous nites drunk. Me and my brother, Rayce, and the girls apparently made to much of a commotion at BJ's Bar and Grill. Its in their opinion that if you have a good time in a bar that it is inapropriate. Apparently if you scream at the top of your lungs "I'm gonna tear this bar apart" it means that you are capable of tearing that bar apart. And to be honest if we would of stayed another 15 minutes in that place that probably would of come to fruition. Only that my girlfriend had sense enough to get us out of there. I hate those places. Fake neighborhood bars, with their phony ambience, and even phonier people, all that shit makes me wanna burn down those fuckin places but BJ's has a decent porter so thats the only thing that prevented me from beating up and raping the waiter (to prove a point) who ocassionaly came by to give his unasked opinion about the beer I was drinking and eventually pissing out. A lot of discussions took place that night, like why only crazy people make good art. Basically the standard drunken crazy rantings in a restaurant bar that isnt equipped for anything of substance.
The hangover could'nt come at a worse time. I passed out in my bed about 4am only to wake up at 8:40am to pack up my shit and haul ass in to Bakersfield. Saturday was spent moving crap and me ignoring my fryed nerves from a hard night of drinking. The absence of proper nutrition coupled with freezing tempratures in ol' Bako was making my life miserable, and even worse I had to move in me and my girlfriend into our new place. But perhaps that was a good way to sweat out the alcohol.
After a few hours of working in our new apartment, myself and my girl accompanied with her sister Summer, decided to put food into my swirling stomach. The whole day my stomach was begging for me to vomit, but me being the tough bastard I am, decided that was for fags and kept truckin. HEARTBURN, HEARTBURN, AND MORE FUCKIN HEARTBURN! The booze needed to be tamed. So we ventured on to find a decent chinese buffet. Beacuse when you're stomach and nerves are on the edge, chinese buffet is a certain cure. But fortunately to ol cast iron stomach welcomed the new found sustanance.
Its very rare to meet a waiter who is genuninely polite and of service. We were at a chinese buffet without a chinese or person of asain decent around. But that brought me comfort. I figured at least the place will be clean. And it was. And the food was good. It was raza behind in the kitchen so it tasted like mexican/chinese fusion cooking or chinexican. But this waiter stood out from the crowd, beacuse he wasnt chinese for one, and he was pleasant which made me wanna punch him, but at the same time was welcoming. The hangover was ruining my life. But the food helped.
I was back in Bakersfield. I was back in the midst of things. Me and my girl were embarking on another gamble on the future. And happy to do it. Sunday I woke up and my heartburn was gone.
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