I fell asleep at my desk today, unable to take 28 hours of being awake, Tanqueray, pool, packs of cigarettes, and... hooking up with Hemmy at 5am this morning.

Yeah, it goes like this:

I blow out of work at 2:00 yesterday (because I can and I don't care), head to the diner to meet Carie. Hemmy's there, with a girl and Fallon, so I say hello but don't bother them. I even sit facing the other way so I don't have to see them. Kristin emerges, and we wait for Carie.

The 3 of us go to my place, chill for a bit, and then Carie and I go to the gym together.

After the gym, we return to the diner and FUCKADUCK if Boof and Hemmy didn't walk in together. Carie is immediately flustered, as Boof takes her hand and kisses it -- me, I'm actually irritated that Hemmy's there. I've taken his phone number out of my cell because I've already forsaken my crush, so I can do without seeing him.

And so we hang. I give up the decaf and go for regular, as I figure it's going to be a long night of me looking at him, simultaneously wanting him while wanting him to disappear. My phone rings. It's a number I vaguely remember.

"Hello?"

"Hello?"

"Who's this?"

"Is this Knot?"

And I look up, and it's Hemmy teasing me with his cell.

FUCKER! What the hell was that? "Maybe he's dissing you because you don't talk to him when you see him."

I go home agitated. I change into pajamas. It's 12am. I play guitar, but I still can't figure out what the hell Hemmy's thinking, so I text message him.

"That was a weird phone call before, what's up? :-P"

I get back "Jigger. Come down."

I send, "K, 15 min" and change back into outer gear and redo the lipstick.

Down at the Jigger Pub, it's Boof, Hemmy, Rothenbeck, Shan, Shetler and his girl Kate, Carducci, Tony Bagadonuts and 2 guys who will annoy the piss out of me later at 3am.

I'm the only one shelling out hefty bucks for drinks because only my girl Tanqueray will do.

3 drinks later, I slur, "Rothenbeck. I wanna play pool."

"You're on."

I manage to get to his house, Hemmy in tow, who even offers me a helping hand as I trip through the icy snowbank through the fence to 212.

We end up in RothenBAKE's room (Rothenbake sure likes him some pot) and everyone but me is smoking up. It sadly reminds me of Anthony, and how I would do shotguns off him. This guy, Steve-O (no NOT the one from Jackass, which shows you what a tool he already is by assuming the real Steve-O's monniker), guy #1 of 2 to piss me off soon, tries very hard to get me to smoke up.

"Nah, I can only do shotguns."

"I'll give you one!"

"Ah, no, that's alright."

The conversation turns to recording, and Steve-O tells Hemmy, "I was recording way back in the day before you were doing ANYthing. Man, I was doing industrial shit..."

Wanting a verbal throwdown with this prick, I start questioning him about his industrial music repertoire, and make him look stupid by evidencing he neither knew Kraftwerk were from Germany OR WHO THEY WERE--which you should, if you claim to be into industrial as Steve-O did. I have to say, hearing him dis Hemmy just pissed me off, and the hackles came up.

Later, playing pool, Hemmy and I are on the same team and we win 3 out of 4--killing Steve-O quickly and happily. Yes, Hemmy's a good shot, and in more ways than one.

It's late. I'm drunk. Maybe a little stoned, as Rothenbeck's room is tiny and I sat in it for awhile. I leave and don't even realize I'm bouncing out the door with my stuff.

Hemmy follows. He sits in my car for a second while his is warming up.

"So what are you doing now?"

"I'm going home. You wanna come up? We can watch a movie."

"Yeah, we can attempt to watch a movie."

Oh, as opposed to what? What's going on in that cute little head of yours? We head on up and actually, we DO get all the way through Donnie Darko. Me using him as a pillow, stroking his scrawny chest through his T shirt, him grazing the side of my torso with his hand.

Music videos that we watch and criticize. He says, "Why don't you just kiss me now?"

I say, "Are you sure? I mean... we're both wrecked and haggard, it could be really bad. Why don't we just fall asleep and do this some other time, when it'll be a better experience."

He seems confused at this. "Do you want me to go?"

"Nah, you don't have to go. You can crash here."

We end up in bed, and he's working his meager moves. I'm actually pushing his hands away because I'm pretty tired. I manage 5 minutes asleep--I don't know if he tried to sleep or not; my back was turned to him. But eventually, he tries again. And I figure WTF, let's roll.

It's weird. I am NO WAY going to kiss him because that would just be too horrible an experience for both of us. But our touching is sensual; a lot of spooning, a lot of stroking. I turn and face him but to look at his skin, his freckles at this neck. His chest is so small, his entire body probably has no fat on it, but no muscle either. His hair is soft, even his facial hair, and I run my hands over him, nuzzling and pressing.

"Anthony was so much different," I think to myself. It makes me sigh.

Hemmy lets his fingers do the walking and it's alright. I don't think he wanted to work pro bono, so I return the favor + a little more, and here's what I have to say about this:

1) Hemmy would be good in porn because he does a nice money shot.

BUT

2) Hemmy's choice to not have sex with girls may not have to do entirely with "Waiting for the right one," like he claims. I'm willing to bet there's some issues of prematurity, if you know what I'm saying. I may be somewhat skilled, but I know my mouth and hands aren't THAT talented.

3) I certainly will not be the one who he'll have sex with, and frankly, this is nothing to bemoan. I can tell it would take WAY too much effort to train this one to do well. Yes, you may be a hottie, and yes, you are musically talented, but you will have a LOT to learn, and I have no patience for that.

You know, you can always tell afterwards that they want to leave; they're not spooning with you anymore, even though you're in the position, and they're lying on their backs. It makes me laugh and I sort of want to test him. So I ask some random dumb questions, like "What's your middle name?" ["Stephen with a 'PH'"] "When's your birthday?" [April 11] "Oh, geez, you're an Aries."

"Why'd you stop shaving your head?"

"Dunno. Everyone was asking me to, and I said, 'if I let it grow, I'm gonna let it keep growing.'"

"Just as long as you don't turn it into a mullet."

He's talking low, and it's been such a long day that my head is sort of congested and pressurey, so I can't hear him that good. But he's asking if I'd mind if he left--if I'll get mad.

"Mmm, nah, I won't get mad. This is how these things go. Maybe I might get mad at myself, but not you."

Feeling guilty, he's like, "Oh, I'm definitely staying then!"

But really, I'm in no way surprised. I think I might even want him gone so I can mull over what I just did, see if the aftertaste is something I'll regret all week or if it'll make me laugh.

"No, really, you should go. I mean, without out sleep and a shower later, I aint gonna get any better looking. Plus, you're not going to be able to sleep here. It's just not going to happen. So you can go, and I won't be mad, on two conditions."

"What."

"One, you tell no one about this."

"Alright."

"Two, you say hi to me the next time you see me."

"As opposed to what?"

"AS opposed to you NOT saying hi to me."

I think I sort of confused him when I didn't try to make him stay, or even see him to the door.

"Do I have to lock anything?" he calls from the kitchen before he leaves.

"Nah."

I think he says something else before he exits, but I'm busy deciding if I'm going to go to work or not. And as soon as the door shuts, I'm up to the bathroom and taking a shower. I'm happy to find I fit again into my favorite size 4 skirt.