Art!

It occurred to me today that it has been a while since I've done the museum/gallery thing (with the exception of Gadsby's Tavern last week). Worse yet, I have not been to my favorite local institution, The Hirshhorn in an eternity. So I made my way to their virtual presence to see what's currently being shown and saw this. Fortunately, this just opened last week, so there is no need for me to do something insane like trying to endure the 4th of July tourist traffic in order to see it. I'm taking a couple of days off from work next week, so I think I might go then.

Also: The Music Center at Strathmore opened this past February and they have several intriguing shows coming. I'm tempted to buy a three show package from the "Mix It Up" series, but will wait until they officially announce the Sigur Ros gig, which is slated for September 11th. Other performances of note feature The David Grisman Quartet, The Derek Trucks Band, and Joshua Redman and the SF Jazz Collective. In addition, I might try to take my nephew and niece to the Backyard Theater for Children.

And in other news...

So, JC has discovered the joys of instant messenger. We wound up chatting for far too long on Thursday night. It was good to catch up, and I think we actually managed to work in more topics of conversation than we do on the phone. That girl can be downright wise, sometimes.

Well, I got gum comeuppance, as I wound up biting the inside of my mouth while chewing the stolen goods. It bled something fierce. Embarrasingly enough, this happened in close proximity to one of my attractive co-workers. Explaining why I yelled "Dammit!" was not exactly my smoothest moment. That was probably the highlight of my workday on Friday.

Later that evening, I had dinner with ES, in what has become our monthly play date of sorts. She came over and we played the shit out of God of War and Ratchet & Clank: Up Your Arsenal. (She played the former, I the latter.) A good time, as always.

Saturday was spent in the company of JG and his buddy RS. On the agenda was checking out the music festival that was taking place on King Street and hitting Hard Times for chili. Mission accomplished, at least on the latter. The music festival was bogus, and somehow, was even more offensive than I was expecting. It was one of those crowds where you know the only album they have by a black artist in their music collection is Bob Marley's Legend. Setting aside the sub-moronic crowd, which was filled with way too many dudes in sandals and fruity little seashell necklaces, the bands--at least the ones we had the misfortune of hearing--were playing uber-bland, semi-jammy music. It was just awful. Worst of all, though, was the fact that there as a band there called "The Funk Band" that looked about as funky as Dabney Coleman. And one of the bands broke the cardinal rule of having a white bongo player. (Maybe it was The Funk Band; my previous statement on their appearance was based upon the flyers that were hung up around King Street.) Buncha savages in that town.

Fortunately, the sea of idiocy was restricted to only a few blocks, which gave us plenty of King Street to explore, which we did. We even took a tour of Gadsby's Tavern, which was brief but interesting. We also made it down to the water, where we witnessed a horde of catfish frenzy over the bread that was being dropped into the water, much to the chagrin of the ducks circling nearby. It wasn't just regular bread, either. It was pita bread. As I said to JG later, of course Alexandria catfish eat pita bread. We finished up the festivities back at JG's spot, watching a movie (Anchorman again) before I decided to call it an evening shortly after 10 or so. I metroed back in, getting off a couple of stops early so I could hit Tower Records. I picked up Pelican's March Into The Sea EP and Boris' Akuma No Uta. Both rock most hard and are highly recommended, especially the Boris, which was different than what I'm used to hearing from them. This album is more of a hard psych platter, as opposed to their post-Melvins sludgefest with which I am mostly familiar. Definitely fierce.

Sunday has been, as usual, the day for laziness. Woke up late, watched Spider-Man 2 for the first time (I liked it a lot) and have done very little since. More tv and more food make Vega$ something something. Or, rather, makes Dr. Damian Pearle something something. Yes, for a brief moment on the Metro from Pentagon City to King Street, the Dr. Pearle myth started to take on a life of its own. Hilarious.

Petty Theft

So, the loud gum chewing came to a head yesterday, and my solution was to simply remove the source of the annoyance. I stole his gum. Not my finest moment, though I am taking perverse pleasure in chewing it right now. What makes it worse is that I actually switched areas last night, so now I'm far enough away that I wouldn't be able to hear it, even if he stuffed the whole pack in his mouth.

Maybe I'll sneak it back to his desk this afternoon.

Violence and a Big Gulp

So, I'm in line at the 7-11 a few minutes ago. There's one guy in front of me, paying for his goods, and a nice little line behind me. Some guy, who looked like he could be homeless, walks up to the guy in front of me and starts talking to him. At least, it looked like he was talking to him. I'm not exactly sure what he was doing. Then, one of the employees of the store came up to the guy and gestured toward his pocket. My guess is that he stole something. She grabs him and starts to push him toward the door, an act to which he took exception. He pushed her back, telling her not to touch him. She grabbed him again and kept pushing. This led to a brief heated exchange, followed by him throwing a punch. Now, at this point, I should have grabbed the guy. But I didn't, even as they both fell into a nearby display. I was stunned by inaction. Worse still, nobody else intervened. I cannot speak for them, but I have no idea why I did not step up. It wasn't fear. It was just...well, like I said, I don't know what it was. The whole thing happened so fast and it seemed completely unreal. Not an excuse obviously, and of course, my brain ran with the "what ifs". Like, what if this guy wasn't on the scrawny side and managed to throw the woman through the nearby window? What if the guy had just gone nuts and started turning on every one? Fortunately, the other employee, the one who was working the register, hopped over the counter and helped get the guy out of the store, pulling his shirt off (I guess recovering the stolen goods) while beating him with an empty crate. That part was comical. Still, I feel like a tool, and am curious as to how the other people who just stood there feel.

Big Lou Delivers

This weekend was about two things: disposal of some bulk items from my apartment and seeing the family.

Item the first: Woke up shortly after 6am (on a Saturday! Ye gods!) for to be ready when Big Lou showed up. The mission: to pick up a van in order to haul away some leftover bulk goods from the great apartment clearinghouse. We were to haul said goods to the Fort Totten Waste Transfer Station. Well, we get the van and load it up, taking all of 20-25 minutes, including drive time, doing so. We then snake our way through the city, using the ever-so-reliable Mapquest driving directions, to get out to the disposal facility. Surprisingly, at least to an urban dweller with no sense of waste management, there was a bit of a line to get into the facility. Well, we get up there and Big Lou hops out to go up to the office window and present his driver's license and the van's registration. When asked what kind of dwelling it comes from, he answers honestly. He is then told that they do not accept trash from apartment buildings. So he waves me over and I ask what's going on. She tells me the same thing. I tell her, no, according to the information I was given, you just don't pick up from apartment buildings. But, I am allowed to drop it off myself. She tells me I'm wrong. I tell her she is. She shows me some cheap, xeroxed copy of the "rules", but doesn't give me enough time to read through them, because I know that it only applies to pick ups. She also offers no alternatives. I then proceed to fly into a rage, using much colorful language. Had there been anything roughly the size of a garbage can or television within reaching distance, I would have gladly thrown it at her through the window, laws be damned. Instead, I stalk back to the van, still spitting obscenities, and we drive off.

Well now what? I can't take it back and put it in the garage of my building, or else I'll be fined. I can't just throw it in a dumpster. So we pull over to the side of the road so I can call my mother and have her jump on the internet and find a private disposal facility and/or hauler. My sister answers the phone and informs me that my mother is in the shower. I leave a message to call me back. Meanwhile, Big Lou, who is quite the agua consumer these days because of some stones he had, has to go to the bathroom. We pull over to the side of the road and he surreptitiously finds a spot to do his bidness. I am still in the van, boiling. After he finishes, he sees a truck behind us. He goes up to the truck and in minutes, we have two very helpful citizens (willie and Clyde), also on their way to the dump, willing to take all of our junk in for us. Sure, Big Lou greased their palms a little bit, but I was very grateful. Immediately, the rage left my system and I was able to enjoy the rest of my day. Even as the father of a thirty year old "adult", Big Lou has no problem coming through in the clutch. Now that's fatherhood.

Item the second: later that day, I had dinner with my entire family, except for one sister, who was working. It was ma, pa, my other sister, my brother-in-law, and my niece and nephew. Big Lou prepared a delicious feast of roast pork, stuffed shrimp in lumpia wrappers, lumpia, pansit, and one other dish that escapes me. It was a great family gathering, with no drama and lots of fun, especially with the kids. I had not seen my family in ages, it seemed, and I was so glad that I got this chance. Even though I spent nearly every weekend with them for a good two months in the spring, I found I missed them more than I anticipated. I got home late that night, too late to make it out with CO and company. I wound up killing the rest of the evening by finishing God of War (thanks, CO). That is a fantastic game and worthy of the praise it has received this year. Top notch in all categories, from art to music to gameplay. And now that I have the hookup, I should have both the new Splinter Cell as well as Jade Empire in my hands sometime this week. Though, if it's not too late, I might try to switch out Splinter Cell for Psychonauts, since I am still making my way through the early stages of the previous Splinter Cell installment.

So, all told, an excellent weekend, with one minor flare-up of undiluted rage. Considering the infrequency of such occurrences, I can live with that.

Time Snap

3:50pm - It seems that even on days without a boss, I manage not to be as slothful as I want to be. I was anticipating being able to keep a running commentary on the day, but as it turns out, I worked instead. And while this will assuage my guilt in terms of not making this job a complete sinecure, I'd still rather have done that.

In other news, we have an intern. "And now we make party!"

And yes, I still wish blinding violence upon the cud-chewing interloper. But, in lieu of criminal acts, I've just taken to mocking him. Ha ha ha...passive-aggressive.

Sincerely,
Peter Potamus

Delicious

11:03am - Bossless day, so that means extra roaming time. Today, we hit the buffet. Breakfast, fool! What?!

Mornin' Bloggin'

9:34am - I'm afraid I may have to kill the guy sitting next to me. He's trying to annoy me on purpose. How do I know this? Because no adult chews gum with their mouth open. Loudly. I swear he's gone python, unhinging his jaws for maximum annoyance. Between his recent trend of bouncing in his chair and making it squeak like bedsprings to chewing like a mastiff on a postman's bloated carcass, it may be funeral pyre time for him. Bloody savage.

Last night, I made my first appearance at a meeting of the Super Friends D.C. Bloggers Meetup group. Unfortunately, I was dead tired from even more lack of sleep than usual (only a fraction of it related to GoW), and was not my usual self. This is probably a good thing. In this case, I was quietly polite, laughed when appropriate, and did not make a huge spectacle of myself. Those who know me know that this is no small feat. Of course, the decision to have the next meeting at a place that sells alcohol will likely undo all of that, should I be able to make it. Eh, I had a good run.

It was a small but friendly group of people, with the expected demographic make-up (and J, who was also attending for the first time). After the gathering broke up, I headed to Olsson's to use my "20% off purchase" certificate that was due to expire at the end of the month. In retrospect, I should have waited so I could spend more. The few discs I did pick up: Stereolab's Oscillons from the Anti-Sun, Orthrelm's Ov, and Nano-Nucleonic Cyborg Summoning by Behold...the Arctopus. So far, I've listened to the Orthrelm disc (1st listen verdict: different, difficult, but not bad) and part of disc one of the Stereolab collection, which, for the money, should be picked up with all due speed. It is three CDs and one DVD for the nifty price of $27 (at Olsson's; I saw it at Melody for $22). Unfortunately, these listening experiences kept me up much later than expected, and for the second day in a row, I'm operating on too little sleep. Boy howdy, I am going to crash tonight.

Randomness

-Way #312 to Amuse Yourself At Work: When waving your hand in front of a sensor-automated paper towel dispenser, pretend you are performing the Jedi Mind Trick and say "you will give me a paper towel." For added fun, refer to the machine as a "weak-minded fool" while drying your hands. (Note: This trick can be used with any other sensor-automated device.)

-God Of War is one heck of a game, if a bit easy. What I like about it, and what more seasoned gamers--especially those with extensive time playing fighting games--might actually consider a negative, is the ease of combat. There are no complicated button combinations, making gameplay very smooth. From a graphics standpoint, the game art is some of the best you'll find on the PS2, with incredible character detail, particularly during the (ultra-violent) cut scenes. The scene where see Kronos crossing the Desert of Lost Souls is one of my favorites, particularly the close-up on the titan's face as Kratos climbs to Pandora's Temple. The music in the game is also first-rate, providing a perfectly cinematic score that enhances, but never overwhelms, the game.

-The ECW One Night Stand PPV was one of the best PPVs I've seen in some time, and a prime example of what fan-friendliness, in any entertainment setting, can do for your product. It wasn't that great from an in-ring standpoint, the highlights being the insane Awesome-Tanaka match (how anybody takes unprotected chair-shots these days is beyond me, and the ones Tanaka took were even scarier looking) and, of course, the bloody clusterfuck that was the main event. What it lacked in mat skills, the night made up for with rabid enthusiasm by all involved, fueled both by passion and nostalgia. Visual of the night: a crimson-masked Tommy Dreamer giving real-life wife Beulah a hug in the ring. He had the biggest grin on his face, knowing this was the end of the road for something that meant so much to so many. Priceless.

-A's took two of three from the Braves. Huzzah! Only a game and a half to get out of the cellar.

-I have missed both games of the NBA Finals, and it seems I've missed nothing at all. I don't care what Wilbon says, Phoenix-Miami would have been just as good at showcasing what is right with the NBA as this series, and they would have been a lot more entertaining while doing so. This series is dullsville, daddio.

Notes On Tonight

-Watched the Nationals take apart the Mariners (with a Mariners fan as company!). It was all jake until Hasegawa was put in. So, so small. But hey, now I have a favorite Nats player: Ryan "Crazy Train" Church.

-I did not join a few of my co-workers to "support" another co-worker who, we recently discovered, has a side gig doing le striptease. Another time, perhaps. Dolla dolla bills, y'all.

-Ran into The Clintons as they left Tunnicliff's Tavern in Eastern Market. J and I happened upon a crowd of gawkers on the sidewalk, stopping a little too close to a limo parked at the curb. A gentlemen asked us to step back from the vehicle. Next thing I know, here's Hillary and Chelsea just feet away from us, with Big Poppa Bill pulling up the rear. I was in D.C. during his entire presidency and tonight was the closest I've ever been to the man. It was such a random occurrence that it had nearly been forgotten later.

-Had beers and great conversation with J at The Lil Pub and the Capitol Lounge. She's good people.

-After the slowest winter and spring, the women of the night were out in full force. I was like a boxing ref during a KO on the walk home, because I counted ten. That is, until I stepped into my local 7-11, where another was at the counter making a transaction (tee hee) as I entered.

I know, I could have crafted this into something more substantial, instead of giving you the PowerPoint slide version. Maybe later I'll punch it up with a few more details and crude language. But now, it is late.

Do the rockaway...lean back...

This evening was spent in the company of Mrs. O and JG. We did the dinner thang at Luigi's downtown (too hot and lazy to link at the moment), where we had some excellent Italian food and conversation. Mrs. O wanted my take on the bachelor party, and instead of being obnoxious and saying "Don't you read my blog?!" I happily retold the story. Some details were left out, some were added in, and no names were changed to protect the innocent.

After dinner, we headed up to Dupont and took a leisurely stroll inside of Second Story Books. The find of the night, at least until we opened up to look at the content, was a book called Women: Pro or Con. I was hoping for an intellectual dissection of the pros and cons of women, but instead was treated to a bunch of quotes about women. Booooring! Also found: The Non-Chew Cookbook, for you people (like me) who think that food that requires you to work your teeth is for suckers. We eventually left when I started getting punchy in the form of dancing to the music that was playing in the store. What can I say? I'm just une machine de danse.

And now, a couple of hours and some ice cream later (so, so hot), I'm groovin' to one of my Xbox playlists and bringing the evening to a close.

Tomorrow: beisbol (Go Nats!). The rest of the weekend is undecided, though I plan on filling any down time mit God of War, which Mrs. O brought for me tonight. Mr. O finished the game before he went fightin' 'round the world.

One Advantage Of My Job

I now have a connection (and a pretty high connection at that) to this hotel. Depending on how the numbers shake out by mid August, I might could make this my birthday destination, instead of Los Angeles. (Sorry JC!)

"Look, I don't know why basesball means so much to everyone. There's important work to be done, to make things more decent."

"More decent than baseball? Dun-dun-dunnnn!"

Speaking of "basesball", the in-first-place-by-the-end-of-August Oakland A's are in town this week to do some hot, interleague action with the Nats. I am very tempted to go Wednesday night.

That is all.

DV$ 1, Baltimore 1

Yesterday was a trip to Charm City for the unofficial Bachelor Party for RF, who will be getting married in August. This was just a small gathering of friends looking to have a good time in the city that Peter Angelos ruined.

The Fantastic Four on this trip was me, JG, G/T/D (which stands for Greg/Todd/Doug), and RF. JG and RF picked me up at the King Street Metro and we returned to JG's place so that he and RF could finish their recently purchased lunches. While they ate, I played the DVD that was in the player, Playmate something or other.

JG: "You may want to jiggle the cords to get the sound to play."
ME: "Why do I care about the sound? Am I watching this to hear them talk?"

So they ate and I watched and, eventually, G/T/D showed up and we were ready to leave. With bags loaded and everyone strapped in (for funny!), we made our way to Baltimore. Not much in the way of highlights on the road, as it was the usual chit-chat und comedy. Eventually, I nodded off a bit and before I knew it, we're at the motel, a cozy little spot in the travel plaza called the Rodeway Inn. I shan't remark too much about the motel, because for our needs, it was good enough. So there is no need for me to really rip on it. There was a bit of mix up with the room assignment, as the room in which JG and RF would be crashing had no card reader. Once that got situated, we dropped off our thangs, took a few minutes to just stretch and unwind, and then it was back out the door. We snagged a cab in front of the Best Western across the street and took it to Camden Yards, where RF had to pick up some tickets for an O's game. After the purchase, we walked over to see what was happening on the field, as the announcer was doing his thing. As it turns out, there was a Fantasy Baseball Camp going on. I immediately called for the pitcher to throw something high and tight (I think my exact words were "Bean him! He's crowding the plate!"). After a few minutes of mockery, we headed for the inner harbor and our first stop, Pier 4 Kitchen + Bar. We got ourselves a table by one of the open windows, a nice breeze making our time there very comfortable. We had a few appetizers, a few drinks (I had a Honeydew martini and a beer or two) and some pleasant conversation, delving into such important topics as "What are the three things you always look for when you first meet a woman?" and its natural follow-up, "How many women have you dated that had all three things?" (Had in the sense that they were up to your "standards." My answer to that question was zero.) This conversation starter was offered by JG, and I assume was brought about by our particular circumstances, given that the reason for the season was RF's impending nuptials. Or else, he swiped it from his most recent issue of Redbook.

After we settled up, we began walk toward Fells Point. This is where the first bit of deja vu stirred in my head, as memories of the last trip to Baltimore bubbled up to the surface...

Aside: I still cannot believe I didn't blog about that trip. It is relevant to this post only in terms of the subject, as my record versus Baltimore after that night was 0-1. I'll probably jump in the time machine to blog about that special evening soon. If anything, it will be a fun companion piece to this entry.

We walked through Little Italy and got to Fells Point in pretty quick time. Our first stop was inside the bar and grill which was the centerpiece of our last trip, to see if Rose (the delightfully cute bartender) was there. Alas, she was not. Probably a good thing, as anything remotely resembling a duplication of that previous night would have caused me to dry heave. We popped in and out then went to an Irish bar down the street. Here, we played a couple of beers and played a few games of pool. I also played some music on the jukebox, which was surprisingly good considering the location. We left there and walked around a bit, trying to decide where to go next, finally deciding upon a Caribbean themed restaurant on the roof of an Irish Bar. (Names, as you can see, are escaping me. Not really important.) Once again, more drinks, more food, though I only opted for a scoop of ice cream this time, and more people watching. We settle up and make our way back to the street to find the next spot for what is sure to be madcap hijinx. We select Max's on Broadway, which, for those who made the previous trip, is the bar we were leaving when JG randomly smacked me on the back of the neck. This is where the evening started to pick up. In between all of the drinking, this stuff happened:

We encountered the first bachelorette party of the night. By the end of the evening, I counted 11 different bachelorette parties taking place. I'm convinced this was a scam.

One bride-to-be came in wearing a shirt that said "Suck For A Buck" and, of course, was covered with lollipops. First, RF was adamant that I get one. I begged off, but as soon as he was distracted, I got her attention and waved her over and bought RF (he's the man of the hour, after all) a suck.

JG roped in a girl who came to bum a cigarette from him. Very cute girl, very drunk girl. Her first words to me, as introductions were made: "I love your glasses! They're hot." I mention this only because it will come into play later. Also, when she was going around the table guessing the age (I brought this on, after asking hers), she guessed I was 24. See? Drunk! Anyway, most of the conversation was between Very Cute Girl and JG, but occasionally it involved the entire table. For instance, she picked up JG's sunglasses and put them on.

VCG: How do these look on me?
JG: Great.
RF: It looks good.
DV$: I don't like it.
G/T/D: Looks good.
VCG: So that's three who like it and one who doesn't? Why don't you like? The frames are too big, right?
DV$: Yes, the frames are too big. Plus, they hide your beautiful eyes.
VCG: That's such a line!
DV$: I know it sounds like that, but seriously, you have beautiful eyes, and I should know. I'm an optometrist.

So from that point forward, I was an optometrist. Fortunately, it was never really challenged, though she did try to get me to diagnose a problem she was having. I resisted, saying I had too much to drink to be of much help. She persisted a little, I asked her a couple of questions re: eye makeup and we both decided it was probably just allergies. Despite that less-than-glowing assessment, I really am a tremendous liar.

Anyway, once VCG got up to talk to her people, RF, who had left for who knows where, comes back with a girl and sits her down. Hilarious. Her boyfriend also came over with her. Some drunk and forgettable conversation took place. At this point, there was a noticeable lull, so drunk girlfriend and drunk boyfriend dragged RF and me over to the bar and set us up with a couple of Jaegerbombs. Damn it all, that's now a second drink with Jaeger that I enjoyed. My taste in alcohol is getting very odd. But I digress...

It was about this time that we broke out of there after some valiant efforts by both JG and RF to convince VCG and her friends to tag along with us. They declined. So we left, walked about the square a bit, and decided our next stop would be the Greene Turtle. Got a round of drinks, grabbed a spot in the middle of the room, and just took the scene in. RF found another bachelorette party and before I knew it, we were doing shots with them. This particular bride-to-be was doing the bachelorette party scavenger hunt. One of the items on the list was to have her picture taken with five guys at once. So RF grabbed some random dude and we helped her check it off the list. Another item on the list was "have a guy give you a pair of his boxers." RF demanded that one of us give it up for the cause. Nobody stepped up and RF himself claimed to be going commando (one of the super drunk girls in the bachelorette party attempted to verify this). So there was nothing more we could do for them and we parted ways.

An aside: I should state that at this point, I was feeling nice and toasted. When I reach this state, one of the first inhibitions to go is the one involving public dancing. Not that I'm a bad dancer (quite the contrary, IMO, as I've been blessed with an inordinate amount of rhythm for a white guy), but I'm usually not quick to hit a dance floor until I've had a few in me. Anyway, the DJ started playing music to which one could actually dance and before you know it, I'm doing my thing. I offer this only as evidence of my state of drunkenness.

Moments later: After unsuccessfully convincing The Sisters, two blondes that RF found at the end of the bar, to come dance with us (though one of them did finally get up and dance with RF), the evening takes a turn for the worse. JG lines up some shooters for our group and we dutifully down them. Soon after, RF makes a beeline for the bathroom. Uh oh. I give JG a look and he goes in after him. A few minutes later, they both emerge and JG informs us that the evening was over. Honestly, I don't feel like leaving, because once I'm dancing, I get very energized and do not really want to stop. But, we all go outside to find a cab. JG is steadying RF while G/T/D goes out to find a cab and within minutes has one. We steer RF through the streets to get to our cab, load him in the back, and as G/T/D and I are about to climb in, I ask him, "you wanna stay?" So at that point, G/T/D and I decide we're going to stay and try to find some trouble to get into. Our next destination is the Admiral's Cup, where the bachelorette party from the Greene Turtle said they were going. We go inside just as they are leaving. There was one girl in the party--the same one I think who was going to verify RF's commando status--who was just blitzed and a bit too agreeable. Dangerously agreeable. "My husband is way down in Georgia" agreeable. Ahem. She grabs my arm and tells us that we should go with them. So, we're talking and, as it turns out, they have finished everything on the scavenger hunt except for getting the boxer shorts. So I ask, what's in it for me?

The upshot: I got a kiss from one of the twin sisters in the group and was commando for the rest of the night.

G/T/D overheard that the party was going to the Have A Nice Day Cafe, which was going to be our own final destination (if we decided to forgo the strip clubs, which was likely, since it was established that 'tis far more of an accomplishment to see the naked breasts of women who are NOT strippers) until RF took a turn for the worst. So we start to hoof it in that direction, stopping for the most delicious steak burrito I ever did taste in my state of drunken hungriness, when I get a call on the Batphone from JG. He has lost the email address of the girl from Max's. I communicate this with G/T/D, who says he thinks she gave it to RF as well. We walk another block and we decide to go back to Max's, as JG had requested, just in case she was still there. No luck. So we reverse direction and head back toward Have A Nice Day. This was a long, foolish walk and we really should have grabbed a cab. But you know, if we had done that, we only would have arrived earlier and drank more, which would have been very bad. As it was, we got there later, wound up going to Tiki Bob's instead, grabbed a beer and a chair and just took it all in. I could not even finish that beer, as it would have put me over the edge. It was good to just be up on an open air deck and chillin', especially after the long walk. Couldn't argue with the eye candy, even though the super-charged courage from earlier in the evening had abandoned me, leaving me an admirer and nothing more. We finally decide that, since last call had just been announced, we should just grab a cab. One semi-confusing (we had no idea what the address of the motel was, and the phrase "travel plaza" had completely escaped my vocabulary) and overpriced cab ride later, we were back at the hotel, crashing. I had forgotten to pack sleep clothes, so I slept in the clothes I was wearing. I also slept without properly rehydrating myself, since I didn't trust the sketchy sink water in our room and was too lazy to go downstairs and purchase any. So, I just passed out, eventually reaching a deeper sleep than I imagined. While it was only around seven hours of sleep, it felt like so much more. JG, bless him, came by the room and asked if we needed any water or other hydrating beverages, then went downstairs and bought it for us. Like the steak burrito the night before, that was the most refreshing water my previously drunken self had ever tasted. After that, I felt completely replenished. Within an hour, we were all cleaned and ready to roll, though RF still looked beat. We stopped by a Bob Evans in Columbia and crammed food into our pieholes. From there, it was a sleepy ride to the King Street Metro to drop me off. I got home, took another shower. I tells ya, I wish I had packed shorts for today, because that Metro ride and walk back was sweatier than I would have liked. The rest of the day has been mostly relaxing, doing a load of laundry, writing this post, and getting my game on. Now I must mentally prepare myself for the creativity-deadening eight hours that I call "work" tomorrow. Oh well, the weekend was great while it lasted.

I cannot wait to play the rubber match against B'more. I'm pretty confident I'll come out on top. You hear me, Charm City? Your fate is sealed...

I Think I Blew My Brains Out

I have this theory, supported only by personal experience, that when your body reaches the breaking point in terms of sleep deprivation, you will start sneezing like a pepper factory has opened up in your sinuses. I first suspected this a few years back, had the idea reinforced last year on the day I flew to Chicago, and have had a few more experiences this year to add a bit of credibility. Today, however, was the worst its been since Chicago. The trip to Chicago was a nightmare, because I sneezed from the time I woke up at ungodly o'clock in the morning until about 4pm Central. Yet, as soon as I took a nap, the sneezing disappeared. This was doubly amazing, considering that the apartment at which I was crashing had two cats. (I'm allergic, don'tcha know.) Today's bout of nasal explosiveness nearly rivaled the Chicago trip in both quantity and power.

Anyway, yes. As you can see, the sneezing has caused me to sink to even lower depths of inanity on this blog. But hey, I never promised you A-material. You take what I give you. Take it!

Actually, I have been working on some more serious (read: focused) writing, possibly to be pitched (thanks to the encouragement of EMT), but I won't get into the details here. We don't need another "CO running a marathon" public relations fiasco. Ha! Punching out the man while he's not even in the country to defend himself. Yes! Yes! Stick with the kid, baby!