A couple weeks ago I went to Europe for nine days. At home I have to cats that I usually let my neighbor Joel take care of while I’m traveling. Trouble is: either he would also take care of any “excess” drugs and beer or might even forget to feed Mickey and Dante all together.

There this scafootz that lives in my building that I banged a couple times. She offered to take care of my cats while I was gone. I figured anything would be better than Joel, so I let her.

When I get back, the cats are healthy and happy (unlike myself). I figured I had made the right decision. Two nights later I fell asleep on the couch around midnight and forgot to lock the door. Approximately 2AM, I get woken up by said scafootz:

(Shaking me awake) “Hey, have you got any coke?”

“No, goddamn…I’m sleeping!”

I honestly didn’t think I had any weasel dust because I hadn’t partied at all since I’d been home.

“Well wake up!” scafootz persists.

“NO!!”

Then she drops the bomb, “I know you have some, it’s in that drug box next to your bed…”

“How the fuck do you know about a drug box next to my bed?!” I fired back.

I make her leave and then I started thinking about it….from my birthday, someone gave me an eightball and I still had nearly half of another one that I never did before I left, so I checked my “drug box” and (sure enough) they were gone.

I wasn’t really pissed about the drugs. I know how that shit goes…especially with the devils dandruff, but if you are going to do it…DON’T DO ALL OF IT and even if you do REPLACE IT! It wasn’t the drugs that pissed me off. It was the fact that the bitch was going through my drawers, so I decided I had to cut her off completely.

So, a couple nights later I was at Xenii after the Van Halen Party rolling my balls off. She followed me all over the place saying that she just wanted to “talk”.

“Look — I’m rolling my balls off, I’ve had a great night and I don’t want to deal with this shit.” I told her.

She finally went away. Later on that night, she started blowing up my cell phone with text massages…

Now this shit is classic:

Her: Why do you insist on breaking my heart?
Me: Cock soup.
Her: Really?
Me: Cock soup 2.
Her: Hope it tastes good. I’m tired of chasing you.
Me: Cockulous Soupulous III (yes, I am fluent in dead languages)
Her: Don’t text me back. Hope u had fun.

I was encouraged to keep going by my friends, but I decided to rest my case there.

The next day she sent me a bunch of text messages begging for sex. I never responded.

That was the cock soup incident.