While I'd like...

to brag about how much I drank this weekend...while I was conquering the world...fucking twenty-something women...three at a time, I won't.

The only people who do that are those so not at home in their own skin that they have to make up a fictional life, just so they can have conversations with their friends & those fucking white hat wearing bastards, who made drinking in public so much fun. Just because a woman is conscious,does not mean she wants to be hit on by you, you Abercrombie & Bitch wearing genome experiment. Yeah, do me a favor and play, "free-bird" again, cause you can never hear that song too much.

The weekend was acceptable. I was up for most of it. I find the older I get, the more I suffer from that "first year-living at college-I have to stay up cause I might miss something" kind of thing. I don't know why, & I agree that being as old as I am, it's just recockulous. Part of me thinks all of the insomnia is due to stress over not feeling like I have accomplished anything on this rock in the moderate amount of time I have been here. After talking with several key individuals, I've found this sentiment resonates among most of my friends, who are generally in the same boat as me, but are about 5 years younger.

The "W" and I hung out some this weekend. I must be a funny bastard cause I notice whenever we get together, the guy laughs at pretty much everything that comes out of my mouth. In what I thought was a landmark move to break tradition, we stopped going to Dunkin Blownuts for coffee, and migrated down the street to the newly opened and cheaper, T-Ho's. The change in latitude was good. Hanging out in the center of town provides greater possibilities of seeing weird shit late at night. Plus there is a fucking huge inflatable coffee cup in the parking lot.

Yesterday started off slow. Being the guy that used to sleep until 6pm on a Sunday, like it was no big deal, "W" loves to now get up early and see what is going on in the world. Saturday night I went to bed pretty late, cause I was hanging out with a sweet young lady who has a love of diet soda (please read between the lines and find that what the author really means, is that he played video games, drank to much Diet Dr. Pepper and went to bed defeated & cracked out on caffeine) So, when my cell phone rang at 11am on Sunday, I woke up thinking it was October and that the Germans were coming.

Luckily for me, "W" just wanted to grab some lunch at, "the blah" and as the "Dr." as that sodiferous bastard sometimes likes to be called, had forced me to shit out the lining of my stomach, I though putting something in there to soak up the remaining evil would be a good idea. Plus I wanted a tuna sandwich like, I've never wanted one before. So we lunch and then drink more coffee, cause that's what we both needed. "W" had a "red alert" of the lower-abdominal-region and we were back in the F1 and flying down the 7 like it was never going to be there again.

Not overly exciting but better than stories of me sitting around, masturbating to old grape-ape cartoons and eating mexican food.

I hope you all are well.

Cheers,
JJ