Friday, October 9, 2009
Tucson is kind of cool. Too bad people here are so ugly. It must be the the dry air. JT is only 22, but she looks like 35. It's not a good thing, but she's still kind of hot. The thoughts I had had earlier, about seducing her, where destroyed at dinner. Refried beans and green chili sauce did something unkind to my system and I have been bloated ever since.
We went over to one of JT's friends. He lived in the ghetto of Tucson. Lots of lowriders and Mexican thug boys. He was one of those gay boys that thinks he's straight. But worst of all, his whole house was covered in clowns. We were drinking wine out of clown cups, sitting on a sofa with clown pillows behind our backs. In the bathroom there was a clown soap dispenser, and on the porch an inflatable Ronald McDonald (who has given me multiple nightmares) was tied up with a string around his neck. Worst of all, in the kitchen, a painting of a clown performing oral sex on a raven-haired girl, hung above the kitchen table.
I would have freaked if I was alone at that Sicko's house. Don't understand why JT is friends with him. She must be terribly lonely.