Long day. Eleven hours and a half hours I worked today, to make up for the hours I'd missed during the week. Hours I'd missed because I'd had classes at night on every other day, so I had to leave early. I had to leave early on those days because I had last-minute work to do for each class, if I did not want to fall behind. I had last-minute work left on each day because I utilized none of my time after class studying, and fairly little of it sleeping.

Aside from wondering if maybe my therapist isn't really so into or perhaps good at her job, I'm also considering the possibility that I've simply grown so adapted to bullshitting people that I do it even when I'm not doing it. Maybe whatever degree of charisma or likeability people seem to see in me -- as they do tend to -- in fact only comes from a learned ability to project what is desired? Maybe in some empathetic, emotional sense, I possess a high instinct towards feeling what pleases, and moving in that direction...

Yeah, sounds like complete crap to me, too. Frankly, I was bored with the concept by the time I finished writing the sentence.

I'm not some super-sensitve pseudo-telepath who is easily drawn off track by unconsciously vibing with others -- I'm a guy who's very easily drawn to having cocktails instead of working, and all too amenable to the thought of naked women.

I was good Monday, as this log should reflect. I didn't get up early on Tuesday like I should have, I was hella tired ... and when, fairly early in the a.m. our newer guy is like, "Fuck this, let's go to ________." All four of us went for an early lunch at a bar/bowling alley near where we work, and had lunch and some drinks. During this time, we decided we were done for the day.

One guy, the oldest, actually did stay at work. The rest of us went to a sleazy strip bar downtown -- it was closer to where we all lived, after all. So by 3pm, I'm drunk in a strip club instead of at work. Yes, it did occur to me that things did not seem to bode well.

So new guy takes off, and the guy I'm left with hassles me endlessly because I've never been to *his* favorite hangout (the dive bar was new guy's idea), which happens to be the classiest strip club in town. He and his roomate are going there later, and he insists I come along -- even though I had class.

So I went to class, developed a headache, and 4 hours after leaving my workmate at one strip club, I met him in a much classier one, also downtown. Sans headache, at least.

So. Some attractive women, mostly kind of skanky ones. Oddly attactive stripper sitting on my coworkers lap when I got there -- most accurate way I can think of to describe her: Imagine a sexy skeleton. Seriously, this girl had absolutely no body fat, and very little muscle tissue. She was actually kind of gross to look at naked, but because what flesh she did have had a decidely feminine shape, and was in fact taut muscle -- yeah, somehow she made it work. She was kinda creepy, nonetheless.

Still, when she crawled off my coworker's lap after having given him a lap dance (which, unlike his roomate, I did not watch -- is it just me, or is there something vaguely gay about watching a stripper all over some other guy, and enjoying it? I guess it's just me.) ... she proceeded to climb into my lap, and whisper and purr into my ear and come tantalizing close to kissing me, with that (I know, learned) LOOK of wanting me to kiss her -- oh, did I mention that her face actually was quite beautiful?

So, the end of that tale is that every time I politely said no to the idea of a lap dance, she simply continued to cuddle and rub and come close to kissing -- and each time in order to actually stop my continued protesting, she moves her neck against my lips lightly enough that -- well, it really wouldn't make a difference if I kissed her. I think where she got me was when she finally pouted as if disappointed I really wasn't going to get a lapdance -- and of course continued to do what she had been doing all along.

So I got a lapdance. I finished my beer, and went home. Oh, almost left out something funny. There was a slightly-butch lesbian there who was hanging out with one of the dancers (I'd assumed her girlfriend) and when I was about to leave, she approached me and asked if I wanted to go into a back room with the two of them.

To be completely honest, I do think my first response was, "Why?" In response to which she gave me a look that suggested she thought I was too stupid to hit, and then repeated her original question. Only slower.

So I quickly amended my answer to yes, sure I'd like to unexpectedly wander into a probable threeway with a fairly attractive stripper and her about equally attractive lover. I had no idea what they had in mind, but I figured it might be worth my while just to find out anyway.

And of course, I was just pretty gone and pretty confused, and I suppose the girlfriend didn't have the routine down -- because I was being invited to come in back with them, but as may come to no surprise to those of us who are sober, the invitation was that I could pay $180 to go into a back room and definitely see one of them naked, maybe both of them -- almost definitely some making out between them, no chance in hell of any actual making out with me -- probably some lapdancing or grinding of some sort from at least one of them...

So as you may imagine it took considerably longer for you to read that than for me to decide my earlier agreement was indeed a tad hasty.

The epilogue to this tale is that I've been playing catchup the entire rest of the week after that -- including, obviously, updating my journal. But as far as it goes, you're all caught up now.

The moral of this tale: It seems to become somewhat more apparent, why those who drink often and/or smoke pot often tend not to get a whole lot else done. Takes ya near four or five times as long as all but the slowest sober people, just to figure out what the fuck is going on around you.