Another Message from Ben

Last Friday, my friend Ben left me the following drunk message. I love my friends. I really do.

Nate, what's up bro? This is Ben. Hey! What's up, brother? I had a huge fucking? you-know catastrophe at my house tonight. I was hanging out with Erin who invited her friend over and her friend had a dog. And that was cool? and then we started eating xanax and then Erin's friend started freaking out and you know, being a bitch from hell (I know that you know the bitch from hell?you've fucked enough of them). And I was like, "Bitch, I fucking hate you for being a bitch from hell. Get the fuck out of my house."

But she wouldn't leave. And so I had to call the police. I mean what do you know, you know, when you call and they're like, "hey it's the police" and you're like, "hey police, guess what? I have a bitch in my house who won't leave and I need you to bring in the Marines or the SWAT team or Andy Griffith or something"?

And then the police come by and they make my girlfriend drive the bitch home, so now I got no dog or girlfriend and I'm sitting alone with a bottle of vodka because I had to have someone physically removed from my house... which is one of those things that doesn't happen very often, unless you know, you're hanging out with alcoholic bitches that are on Paxil and xanax and won't leave, which makes no sense because why the hell would someone stay around when you want them to leave?

So, anyway, it turned into freak-out fucking central and you know? fuck you and fuck you and I'm calling the police and my girlfriend, who was drinking O'Douls had to leave, so I lost the wasted annoying, slutty whore and my girlfriend, who was the only person legally able to drive, and she drove the girl home, and she likes the girl so my girlfriend probably hates me now for having the police called on her best friend. Which is a whole 'nother thing that I don't want to think about. Anyway?

Long story short? I'm sitting on the couch, smoking a butt, listening to?who is this? Frank Zappa. This is what I'm reduced to: smoking butts drinking vodka alone on my couch, wasted, because of some stupid bitch? and here I sit after all is said and done, so I figured I'd call you, not that you can do anything from a thousand miles away but I figured I'd call you and let you know and maybe we can conversate about what it's like kicking crazy bitches out of your house and it sucks because, wait? who is this? Oh yeah. Frank Zappa.

So I'm sitting here, bottle of vodka, a can of Sunkist, smoking a butt... Ahh...

Anyway, thanks for listening. This is life in Iowa brother. Enjoy Tampa and all your fucking slut bitches.

Brother.

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