So here was Saturday:

Woke up, checked email, went to the gym. That's only significant because it was my first Saturday morning (I usually wake up too late) and because it made it my first three-days-in-a-row. I think I've become addicted to the workout.

Got home and turned on the Michigan/Ohio State game. Talk about going from peak to valley. Fucking Michigan. Just as I was getting to the point where I had come to terms with Miami being out of the National Championship picture, I get this. Poor Buckeyes. Would Maurice Clarett have been the difference? Who knows. Probably not.

After that, I pretty much just chilled. Threw on Disc 2 of the Aqua Teen Hunger Force DVD and crashed on the couch, watching and napping. Then, 'round 6:30 or so, I got the call (actually a followup call, as I got the original call earlier in the afternoon), I hear from Mr. O and we make arrangements for dinner, followed by a trip to the Black Cat for drinking a-go-go. We wound up going to Luna Grill for dinner (got me some french toast, I did) in Dupont, then walked to the BC. Get there and pull up two stools at the end of the bar, the only ones available. This is fine, as we are only expecting Caren to join us. Naturally, this proved to be incorrect, as Jarod showed up with a couple of his next door neighbors. Some spots opened up at the end of the bar near us, but there was a buffer of three people between us who would just not leave. So the evening was spent shuttling between the groups for conversation or shouting across the three clowns, not that they noticed or cared. My friend Beth also showed up with her friend Jose, but they were there for the show upstairs, so we didn't really hang out much.

Highlights: I talked to a 19-year-old au pair from Germany and a completely hammered blonde chick who wound up leaving with a guy who looked like a morph of Greg Gumbel and Jermaine Jackson, whose wingman looked like a blonde Jeff Foxworthy with a flattop. I only mention this because I was roundly mocked for having no game (I, of course, introduced my lack of game into the conversation, so it was really my own doing), particularly with the blonde, who was extremely touchy feely, as only really shitfaced women can be. I was more disappointed in the disappearance of the 19-year-old German au pair, which is the rarer occurrence in these heady times of ours. A drunk blonde at a bar? You can't swing a dead cat without hitting one. A cute 19-year-old German girl? You're more likely to find a hipster that hates Eggers in this area. Celebrity look-alikes at the bar: Matt Groening, Efrem Zimbalist Jr. (thank you for that, Carl; now never speak to me again) and, as always, Mena Suvari.

Anyway, we (Carl, Caren and I) broke out of there and rolled back to my spot, where we watched a little Aqua Teen Hunger Force and Family Guy, before The O's bailed for the night 'round 3:30. In all, a solid evening.

And now I do football!