My First Self Titled EP

I named my blog "God Dammit Dani!" for no real reason. A few days later it aaaalll came together. And here's how it goes:

So, this street/junkie boy was coming into my place of employment always during my day shifts. He would use the facilities to urinate/shit/bathe and then on his way out fill up his bottle with our crispy-cold-labor-of-love water, without a please or thank-you. This made me mad, and for some reason I would never have the gonads to say anything because; a.) I'm a sympathetic sap; b.) I was scared he would stab me with a dirty needle; c.) He reminded me of adamame; and d.) I wasn't drunk enough. Yet.

Fast forward to July 4. I have the evening off and my best friend is in town, so we go over the other best friends house to watch those bright loud thingys in the sky. I’ve had, oh, let’s say, FIVE whiskeys? And several beers. In front of best friends apartment I see street/junkie boy. I decide that it is only appropriate NOW to tell him “you're welcome for the water and pisser, asshole.” He knows exactly who I am and what I’m talking about. He apologizes and explains his life to me. He is somewhat charming. With the one hand over my eye to see straight, he appears to be somewhat cute. Of course! We share a forty and I attempt my exit back up to the roof. I may or may not have invited him up to said roof. Oh wait, I did invite him because best friend screams down from window “No Dani! Don’t bring him up!!” To make up for being dissed so hard, I think that giving him my phone number will make him feel better? I really didn’t think this dude knew how to dial (Insert name of my blog here). I tell him I don’t like how dirty he is and that he needs to take a shower and I run up to join friends end of story. So I think.

The following 48+ hours consists of non-stop drinking and non-stop wearing of the same clothes in the Poi (which ironically I am wearing the same outfit as I type, cleaner of course). 3 days magically mush into 1, and my phone is dead (thank god). On way out of the Poi and back into cellphone land I receive one street/junkie boy voicemail message. He tells me of his cleaning up adventure, his name, his desire to come by the red star bar for lunch, and then he apologizes for pissing off my friend? By this last statement I was confused until Greene Bastard Parts Unknown informs me street/junkie boy came by for lunch and tried to eat off some dudes plate. So he tossed him, thankfully. No need to worry your pretty little faces, I’ve decided to NOT go on a 3rd date with him.

And the name of my blog has retroactively been named.