Here we go again

At the behest of one Lillianevich Pesterovich Rocwellikov, I'm posting while a bit tipsy. Here's what it boils down to: I just ate a kolachi from Ken's Donuts--note: Ken is not the Indian guy who works in there with his wife late at night--and my throat is all scratchy. I think I might have picked up some kind of strep throat type thing from Schlitterbahn, probably from all those little girls I wanted to corrupt. So my throat hurts, and I have to wake up in about six hours and I'm tired as shit, but, there's still a story of Matty's fate to never get laid again. This girl I've grown very, very fond of (and who has acted, in turn, perhaps slightly interested) was at a wedding last weekend, a wedding that I was not invited to even though I'm acquainted with the groom, and I was informed that she was quite, quite sloshed and her tool boyfriend was conspicuously, conspicuously absent. In her drunkeness she complained about said boyfriend several times and seemed, on the whole, so my informant told me, rather "nonplussed" about him.

Where was our hero to capitalize on this 'tang?

Houston. Soul-sucking Houston.

Once again, wherever there's an opportunity, fate finds a way to pull me out of town.