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Where to begin? I guess, first, I should mention that I'm reaching out to you all from a two-story Starbucks in Seattle, WA. Not three days after I returned home from my DC/NYC vacation, I boarded a plane for a four-hour flight to the great northwest.

When I was sitting in the terminal waiting for my flight, I noticed a particularly ill-behaved toddler screaming his head off. I just knew he would be sitting near me. And I was right. This little fucker was directly across the aisle from me ... and he did not shut the fuck up the entire flight. He was screaming for the sake of screaming. Now here's what really bothers me. His mother catches my glare, smiles, chuckles, shakes her head ... like she's expecting me to be the same, like, "Eh! What'reyagonnado?!" and ruffle the kid's hair. I'll tell you what you should do. You should smack that kid so fucking hard that the next time he ever thinks about screaming on a crowded airplane, the resulting Pavlovian headache is crippling enough to quell that impulse. Good lord, people, it's bad enough you decided to breed, then decided to do a poor job in raising your children, but at least have the foresight not to bring them in public. No one thinks your kid is cute but you.

Except my nieces. They're all adorable.

So Seattle kinda sucks. The weather is pretty kickass, but I'm bored out of my gourd. I don't know anyone here and my room doesn't have internet access until I move hotels on Thursday. I really just want to be home, but that won't happen until September 1. Somebody call the whambulance.

My trip to DC was spectacular. Daniel and I got along famously, something that had mildly concerned me before our departure. While we spend nearly every hour outside of school and work together, that doesn't always give you a good indication of how you'll handle 24/7 with a person. But it was not even an issue. We spent every night in DC gay bar hopping. We got to meet up with Mr. K■■■■■■ and my dear friend JonS■■■. DC is a pretty cool city, but it's missing that essential pretentious attitude that makes going out really fun. Nobody dresses up. They wear flip-flops and cameo shorts and sleeveless Ts out the bar. What's the fun in that? Daniel and I had to get all fancied up and go out with our sunglasses on to show em how we do. Daniel's dad had a nice apartment in Dupont Circle with a huge terrace. The terrace was surrounded on three sides by a tall brick wall, and the fourth side was a rod iron fence. So every night when we were smashed and getting home, we'd climb the rod iron fence to sit on top of the brick wall and smoke cigarettes. Every single night one of us got hurt. Daniel tore his foot open. I have a puncture wound on each knee. You'd think we would learn our lesson after a few nights, but we managed to avoid any lessons learned.

New York was a b-last. I still don't like the city, but I definitely like the time I had there. We stayed with Daniel's friend David (so bear with me during this story, I'm not speaking in the third person). David showed us as much as he could in the short weekend we were there. We went to some good bars, but they were all so fucking packed. I can't imagine paying 8 times as much for an apartment 1/4 the size just to spend every night packed into bars so tightly that it's hard to even drink. And if you go to New York, make sure you take a lot of cash. IF places even took credit cards, they all had minimums. 5 dollars at most stores, 50 at some bars, and one bar even said they wouldn't swipe my card more than once when I told them to just run it. I suppose if you're marking up alcohol 800% customer service isn't at the forefront of your concerns. But like I said, we still managed to have a blast. One day we went on a Project Runway tour of the city. We went to Bryant Park, and Parsons New School for Design, and the Red Lobster that Santino made fun of Tim Gunn and Andre about. We went to Mood, the fabric store they always shop at and had a fabric scavenger hunt. We managed to find 3 of the fabrics that they've used on the show this season. Too exciting. We also went to the flagship Macy's and they had a window display with all of the winning outfits so far this season. It was fun to look at them up close. By far one of my favorite parts of the vacation. The other day we just kind of strolled around Central Park. Thank you thank you thank you to our most gracious host and newest Sidesho-Viewer, David. Can't wait to see you again soon!

We did so much walking on our trip. I really felt like my legs got a good workout, since they haven't had any recently. We also took a train from DC to NYC. That was a first for me. I like the train. The train is kind of like what I assume airplanes would be like if there weren't assholes trying to blow them up all the time. You just kind of get on where you need to get on and then get off when you need to get off. It just made a lot of sense to me.

I have to apologize for the length of this blog. I had a lot to say and nothing else to do in this fucking city. I'm bored. If anybody knows somebody who lives in Seattle, or knows somebody who knows somebody PLEASE get in contact with me. I would kill for some company. Alright, I'll update more when I have internet in my room. Later, bitches.

Any of you that have been to my residence in the past seven or so years have probably had the good fortune of witnessing the most beautiful coffee table ever created. It started out as a normal coffee table donated to my dorm room by a friend of my mother. One freshman year later and the facade was horribly damaged and the finish nearly entirely removed by spilt Everclear. I knew something had to be done, so I enlisted the help of my very artistic and talented friend, JennyC■■■, and soon ended up with this...

It's beautiful. It's creative. I love it. HOWever, it does not exactly fit in with the color palatte of my apartment. I had considered the whole space/ocean/mountain/sky theme for my living room, but instead went with tan and red. Considering Ryan S■■■ and I are someday going to open up Tan & Red Designs together, it was a no-brainer. Anyway, the table holds a lot of sentimental value to me because Jenny and I did it together so long ago, so I knew I couldn't get rid of it. I thought maybe I could cut the legs off and use it as a wall hanging, but again, not really in keeping with my concept of "vintage Parisian." What to do? What to do indeed.

I've been using the table in my bedroom ever since the redesign. It sits directly behind the head of my bed and serves to hold my many extra pillows. You never know when you need to switch in the middle of the night to a softer or firmer or more Tempur-pedic pillow. It's a pillow table. A pillow-table? Solution! I present to each of you, the new and improved pillow-top coffee table. I used three blocks of foam to create each section and then covered the whole thing in faux leather vinyl stuff. After I stapled it down, I put a row of brass tacks between each cushion and then a border of brass tacks around the edge. I didn't think it would turn out showcase quality, but I was pleasantly surprised at how well I did. It isn't perfect, but it's perfect for me. I think it looks so cool. So fashion forward. (Sorry, I just got done watching Project Runway.) It was a fun little project, and one that I have a bruised thumb and several bleeding cuts to show for. You know me, my art hurts me so. I had to offer it up for your approval. As always, I'll entertain your comments as long as your comments entertain me.

My trip to Washington, D.C. and New York City is fast approaching. If you'd like to hang out be sure to let me know. I've already gotten word from JonS■■■ and Mr. K■■■■■■. Hopefully, I'll be able to hook up with Topher in NYC. As an added bonus, the Monday after I get home from vacation, I will be jetting off to Seattle! You believe that? So if anybody is in the northwest, also let me know. Mr. Ryan C■■■■■■ has already expressed an interest, but I should have puh-lenty of time up there, so I'd love some company. g*d, I'm such a jetsetter. I think it's bed time. Czech you sluts later!

I've had this argument many times in my life. Mr. K■■■■■■ and I almost came to blows over it. It has become increasingly prevalent in my life because of the frequency with which my boss errors in his grammar. I am speaking, of course, about the answer to the age old question, "How are you?"

"Well" is an adverb. It modifies a verb, adjective, or other adverb. "Good" is an adjective. It modifies a noun. I think we can all agree on that (although Ryan S■■■ has already begun his rebuttal before even finishing my blog or determining my stance on the subject).

There are two ways to tell someone how you are. You can say, "I am           ," or "I am doing           ." In the first sentence, the blank is modifying the subject "I," which is a pronoun, a type of noun. You would then use an adjective to modify that noun, so the complete correct sentence would be, "I am good." In the second sentence the blank is modifying the word "doing," which is a verb. You would then use an adverb to modify that verb, so the complete correct sentence would be, "I am doing well," or "I am doing drugs."

The reason people become confused on the issue is because it is grammatically correct to say, "I am well." It is a caveat to the rule, specifically created for when you are describing your physical well-being (coincidence?). Without this exception to the rules, your third grade teacher never would have corrected you when you told her, "I don't feel good," as an excuse to get a drink of water and wander the halls. To say, "I don't feel well," would (normally) infer that your sense of feeling is inadequate -- that you either can't sense when your hand is on the stove, or you're a cold hearted bitch when it comes to relationships. However, with this exception, you are clearly describing your state of physical well-being. You don't feel well. There is something medically wrong with you.

If you don't speak in full sentences, and no one does because we don't have time for that shit, then the unnecessary assumed words are, "I am." If you're still with me at this point, you'll then agree that if your boss, friend or bartender asks, "How are you?" you should reply, "Good." Only if a doctor or nurse asks you, "How are you?" should you reply, "Well."

So if you're continuously using, "Well," or, "I'm well," with your friends, family and coworkers in an attempt to sound smart, instead use correct English and actually be smart. Please?

Good.

I have read on the internet again and again and again that using a simple Brita water filter, one can turn ordinary squeezy vodka into a top shelf delight. Being the scientifically minded alcoholic that I am, I just had to try this for myself. Mr. K■■■■■■ and myself set out for the Goody Goody liquor store to get the required materials. I didn't want to simply recreate experiments that have already been done, and this may have affected my results. Most websites I've read involve good, okay, and shitty vodka. After filtering half of the shitty vodka, a blind taste test ensues. Ours was a little different. However, our hypothesis was the same:

Is this the equation to unlimited high-quality, low-cost booze? We decided that cape cods would be our vodka drink of choice. We could have taken straight vodka shots, but I wanted to add a hint of applicability. I'm not gonna say I never drink vodka straight and dance in my underwear to Neil Diamond, but I'm more inclined to have a cocktail. Our two vodkas were McCormick and Effen. I'd never had Effen before, but I just thought it was too much fun to ask for some "Effen vodka." The price differential was over 20 dollars.

The idea here has to do with the distilling and filtration process that vodka producers go through. Many of them use simple carbon filtrating to remove impurities from the vodka. The impurities are what can change the flavor of the alcohol, so if you go a few steps beyond the distillery and run it through the Brita a few times, you're going to be left with a Brita basin full of Greygoose. Seemed unlikely, but plausible. g*d, i'm like my own Myth Buster.

After filtering half of the McCormick twice, we poured ourselves a couple of drinks with the unfiltered variety. I measured out an ounce and a half, since we like our drinks with a little stank on em. The bite was quite intense. After the initial wince, it went down a little easier. I had a few friends over to join in on the taste test. It was good times. We decided that the unfiltered McCormick was most decidedly vile. But, what could twice through a filter accomplish?

On to the filtered vodka. Conclusion? Nasty. There was the same unpleasant taste we'd experienced before. We'd all had a few drinks at this point, and were worried that the intoxication level might taint the experience. Mr. K■■■■■■ was the first to be ready for an Effen vodka cape cod. On his first sip, he started laughing hysterically. I asked him repeatedly what was so fucking funny and all he could do was hand me his glass. I took a sip and joined him in a hearty laugh. It was sooo good. Unbelievably better. From that point on, we called the experiment over and all stuck to Effen for the rest of the night.

There are several X factors involved here. If any of you have tried this differently, with different vodka, straight, blind, or otherwise, let me know if it worked for you. Because for us, it was most definitely BUSTED. Life is too short to drink cheap liquor. Write that down.

But we all got drunk. And if you get drunk, then you have to ultimately call it a success. Hurray!

Two weeks later, I have finally arrived back home. Getting from Cincinnati to Austin was an ordeal. It took right around 12 hours total. First my plane from Cincinnati to Chicago was delayed by the hurricane. When it finally arrived, we were delayed by a problem at O'Hare. By the time I got to Chicago, my connecting flight was long gone. My new flight was then canceled and I ended up getting to Austin-Bergstrom at 1am. A long cab ride later I was finally at Leslie's.

Leslie's apt was low-key and fun. We sat around drinkin' wine and brewskis and watching Food Network and Napoleon Dynamite. Leslie just bought a house! Yay! Her housewarming party should be sometime around October and I cannot wait. We drove by the house and it is too cute. Even though the street name is dirrty.

I drove back to Dallas today and finally got to see my buddy, Tuna. I'm a little disconcerted by the fact that he no longer has a tail fin. I'm not sure what happened there, but he is a uniplegic now. Poor guy. He is not in a good mood. Thanks to Mr. K■■■■■■ for taking such doting care of my fish.

I went and had coffee with Mikey since he's staying up in Plano while he interviews here in Dallas. Good times, good times. Alright, I gotta go to bed, but I wanted to let you all know that I made it back alive. I'm not really looking forward to returning to work tomorrow, but I'm going to the sleep clinic tomorrow night, so I have something to look forward to. Here's to my last night of apnea ridden sleep. Huzzah!

Every now and then on SideshoViD.com, I bring you pressing social issues and damning political commentary. This is one of those times. I bring you another monumental your-opinion-doesn't-really-matter-all-that-much-but-I'll-ask-it-anyway call to action. There is one thing that is driving me crazy about growing my hair out. It's not the tangles, the frizz, or the constant ironing -- it's the monotony. I am accustomed to radically changing my hair on a nearly daily basis. There was a time not to long ago when I would wake up with red hair, go to class with blue, and fall asleep with green. I can no longer make these drastic changes. And changing which side of my head I part on just isn't getting me off like it used to.

So I bring you the question: to flip or not to flip. It's my new innovation for my hair. Instead of curling everything under in a tidy package, I've started allowing the natural flow of my hair to come through by flipping the left side out. Sometimes drastically. So I want to know what the general public opinion is. 27 used to flip his hair just for me, since he generally hated to do so, into a style I dubbed the "Carol Brady." But I'm not doing both sides, just one. I think it creates a nice movement that has been lacking as of late. If you like the flip, let me know. If not, burn in hell. As always, I'll entertain your opinions, as long as your opinions entertain me.

In other news, my super secret social project that I've cleverly named "The Addison Circle" is slowly but surely coming along. This is where I am going to create my own social circle comprised entirely of people who live north of 635. Tonight I had drinks with Mr. K■■■■■■ and Matt L■■■■■, both of whom live just a stone's throw away from me in Addison Circle. Soon, soon, it will turn from a triangle, to a square, to a pentagon, to a hexagon, to a heptagon, to an octagon, to a nonagon, to a decagon ... and I'm tired of this game, continue on for me in comments if you like ... and eventually approach a circle.

Dear all you bitches who said I would get fired,
I got a raise today.
Har dee har fucking har.
Love,
Sidesho

In fact, my year-end review said that I was doing "outstanding," had "exceeded all expectations," and had "received praise from co-workers both in and out of [my] department." It's kind of hard to argue with that. And that's in print, bold-faced, and in my permanent record. So to everyone who scoffed at me going in late 6 months in a row, everyone who turned their nose up at my mid-day naps, anyone who thought noon was too early to call it a day, and the nay-sayers who thought skipping a day was grounds for immediate termination, I say sit on it. I'm doing an outstanding job. Besides, you can't hold it against me that I'm as much as three times more productive than the average human.

The only thing my boss said he was worried about, concerning yours truly, is that I would be quitting relatively soon. He said I have too much education and potential for this job to hold me longer than 4 years. He doesn't know I was planning on quitting Tuesday. But, he does make a good point. I am terribly bored with work. But you just can't deny how sweet it is to land yet another job where I do what I want, and the allure of making that into a career.

Oh goodness, look at me going on and on about myself. How dreadful. You all KNOW how I hate to toot my own horn.

My workouts are going well even though Mr. K■■■■■■ has fallen "ill" and I've been flying solo every day this week. Except this time I'm being literal; I have gone every day this week. Even though I am still morbidly obese, at least my arms are muscular enough to lift my fat ass off the ground. Hopefully Febrehabruary will take care of that. (I changed the name from Frehabruary to Febrehabruary. While they both look fine in print, the latter is definitely easier to speak aloud.)

Did you notice my grammatically correct usage of the semi-colon in the paragraph above? My grammar book (Eats, Shoots & Leaves) is positively fascinating. I am learning so much from it. And its fuuunnnnny.

Allison left for Australia yesterday. I hope she likes lederhosen and wienerschnitzel, ja. JKJK. I'm not much for sloven goodbyes, but I did get her a picture frame that said "Best Friends" along the top and then "Sydney July 2005" along the bottom. When I saw it on the shelf, I thought it was so appropriate and definitely freaky that they were mass producing them. JKJK again! I had it engraved. That's my new thing. You're nobody unless you get an engraved gift from me. Except for Ryan S■■■ who got a kickass DVD stand. That was from the heart. Anyway, back to Allison. She'll be gone for a year but I'll see her this summer, so that's not too bad. I wish her the best ... shrimp on the barbie.

I bought a big bottle of pomegranite juice. It's called Pom. Much like every other juice ever produced, it claims to be really good for you. I'll tell you one thing: it's fucking delicious. If you are just joining us and aren't familiar with the fruit, search my site for it. I have a great explanation somewhere in the past. The only downside of the juice is that it was 10 bucks for something the size of a cranberry cocktail. That's too expensive to have it on my permanent online shopping list, but a definite treat now and again.

I think I'll end on that note because I'm rambling a tad. I miss you all and apologize for my continued unpluggedness. We'll all get through this soon enough. Peace out, my little have nots. I love you all.

I apologize for my recent absence from the internet, but I assure you, I have been completely powerless. That is to say that my power cord still does not fit in my computer. For some reason, when I got home from work today (at 3:30 -- RAWK) the charge light was on and I was fully charged. I haven't even touched the thing all weekend, so that was weird, but welcome. I'm going to have to take the ol' porn player to Best Buy and have them ship it off to their service department. Hopefully they can fix it and hopefully its under warranty.

I finally went to a yoga school yesterday. I found this Addison Yoga place right by my apartment. They do hot yoga. Hot yoga is just like regular yoga, but its hot. Like really hot. They keep the room at about 100 degrees the entire time. I sweat my ass off. But I really, really liked it. It's only 15 bucks per class, or 12 if you buy a pass. I will probably do this at least once a weekend. I've already drummed up some interest from Lil Jarrod to join me. I think everyone should be doing this, it was so choice.

Today marks the first day of my 5-a-week workout schedule. I'd been going at least 4 times a week, sometimes more, up until the holidays and then I totally fell off. But my friend Greg from New York, he's kind of weird, and he signed up at my gym. So now I have a workout buddy. We both made it perfectly clear that we didn't want to work out together, though. We just want to carpool to the gym in order to motivate each other to stick with it. This is gonna be so great. The next time I show myself in public, I'm gonna be so hot. And by 'hot' I mean that my biceps are gonna be as big as my beer gut.

I'm not sure when I'll be able to address you all again. Thanks for your patience while we struggle through this predicament together. I am gonna send my computer off on Saturday so if I happen to wake up fully charged, I'll update before I let it go. Otherwise, I'll just have to scrounge around and see whose computer I can use. I really wanted to be able to keep you all up to date on my Frehabruary experiment. (I just now came up with that name, I kinda like it.) It's coming up so fast. I can't wait. Oh, and all my expenses got sorted out including the rat bastards at the Velvet Hookah. The owner called and apologized and offered me free drinks. Anyone wanna go?

Oh, and Raul, you should call me since you're impossible to get a hold of. I am still fully expecting you to come up the last weekend in January for my alcoholic swansong. The rest of you, refrain from calling, I get so annoyed when my phone rings. Thaaaaanks.

Here's the deal. The power jack on my laptop, like the thing inside my laptop, has come loose. This happened sometime around April, but hasn't really been an issue. Anytime I lost contact, I would jiggle the cord and all was well. But now, it seems, I have lost the ability to fix the problem with a jiggle. I took my laptop to Best Buy today for their service department to fix it. It's not so much a service department as it is a shipping department. I just wanted him to open it up and take a look, but he assured me that it had to be sent off for three weeks. I don't want to give up my computer for three weeks, but I also don't want to spend an hour getting the cord in just the right spot any time I want to use my computer (like I did tonight).

This was my thought. February is already going to be hellacious and productive. I am giving up alcohol for one month. I am giving up cigarettes for one month. I am giving up the night life for one month. Why not give up chatting for one month?

That's a terrible idea.

I don't know what other choice I have. I can't afford another laptop. Hell, I can't even afford lunch this week due to a savings miscalculation. Still gotta get to the bottom of that, I think somebody stole 125 dollars from me ... which would simply augment the 87 dollars the Velvet Hookah already stole from me (and won't give back, those rat bastards ... but their bartender is hot).

My bedroom is mostly green. Mostly. I need two more gallons to finish up the job. You would think I lived in a 8,000 sq. ft. apartment with how much time I spend painting. Truth be told, I just derive a certain pleasure from doing things slowly. I always have. I like to eat slow. I like to walk slow. I like to paint slow. And I like to tilt my head back and then bring it back up slow-ly.

I'm not 100% certain when to use "slow" and when to use "slowly." Can anybody shed some light?

Quick life update. Drank too much. Made it back to New Amsterdam Coffeehaus with Mr. K■■■■■■. I haven't been back since I went with Ryan C■■■■■■ who now lives in Port-land, so I have to call him to let him know. I think something good may be beginning, but I am always skeptical of optimism. Netflix continues to rawk my world and work is even less of a concern than it ever has been. I talk to Tuna too much for a well adjusted young man and I haven't worked out since I started painting. I will be sick within a few days and the only thing in my apartment suitable to ingest is water from the tap. And beer. I think that's about it. How are you?

I felt bad that yesterday's picture had the top of my head cut off, so I went ahead and took another one tonight. Whadya think? I just have one think to say about my new look: WINK!

I really just wanted desperately to make that joke. I didn't exactly plan anything else out. Today Trey came and got his pool table. It was surprisingly easy for him and his rednek friends to pick it up and put it in a trailer and haul it away. That should be my last trip to Plano for a while.

Mr. K■■■■■■ insisted that tonight I was going to join him at The Dugout to watch some silly baseball game and then he had the nerve to stand me up. No phone call. No answer. No reply to IMs. This is after he has the nerve to forbid me from seeing his apartment and then asserting that he will be coming over often to use my washing machine. I don't think so. To sum it all up, that guy has a lot of nerve. Which is why he still hasn't earned himself a first name.

I can't wait until I have a weekend free from plans that I've made months in advance. Soon enough, friends. Soon enough. And then I'll have you all over. No pictures yet because no progress was made on cleaning. Laaaaaaaaaaaate.

I think happy hour may be the greatest invention of all time. Eat your heart out, Albert Einstein! I've endulged perhaps a bit too much in the 5:00 festivities this week, but it has been well worth it. The first night, I was coaxed out by Greg because Mercy Wine Bar in Addison was giving away a free glass of wine to all Addison Circle residents. Okay, I don't officially live there yet, but close enough. This place is fancy schmancy, I fell in love. And Greg is so fun and high class that the two just melded perfectly. We had some cheese that I didn't care for and a glass of red wine. It was tres chic, but we realized the flier said "Complimentary beverage." Emphasis on the singular nature of the offer. We drink to get drunk, so obviously we're not going to stop after one drink.

We walked next door to the Blue Mesa Grill and with a little prodding and hand holding I finally convinced Greg to go get a free quesadilla. We had a couple of Miller Light drafts, got sick of waiting on the dreadful service, threw some cash on the table and walked out. Never one to disappoint a loyal Sidesho-Viewer, I just felt I had to inform you all of how fun Greg is.

Luckily, I had already made plans for the following evening to meet up with Miles for a wine tasting Wednesday. You pay $35 and get to try six different wines. It was tres fab, tres chic, tres educational. We learned all kinds of great ways to describe a wine like 'earthy,' 'huge,' 'fruity,' 'acidic,' 'oakey,' 'peppery,' and 'smooth'. I may or may not have been able to come upon these flavors myself, but to date the most descriptive I've ever gotten with my wine was 'boxed.'

I think I learned a lot, though, and it was a total blast. We were admittedly novices to the game, but we weren't as bad as our new friend Kara who was sitting on the patio straight up reading a book titled Wine for Women. She was in from Minnesota on business and we struck up a conversation about wines. She ended up being the coolest chick ever. After our six wines were over and done, and she had finished what she'd ordered, the three of us split a bottle. A cabernet, if you must know. It was huge. So I drank a little more than I probably should have and opted to go back to Miles' apartment for a couple of glasses of water. I didn't know there would be entertainment too! Apparently our friend Miles is quite proficient on the piano and we shared a few tunes. We ran out of songs that we both knew eventually when I realized it was 12:30am. This is the latest and drunkest I have ever been on a school night. So I high tailed it home.

Boy did I pay for it this morning. I had to go through this training course that I've been in all week with a wine hangover. And I was operating on no sleep. I ended up sleeping away the afternoon and getting called out on it in front of everybody. Fuck. Oh well, luckily I couldn't care less. I have this feeling there were more stories for all of you, but they'll have to wait. It looks like I'm not going to Austin this weekend after all, but still want to wish Brandon a very, very, very happy 21st birthday. He turned 21 on Tuesday. I'm sorry I won't be able to attend his party, but I'll be down on Oct. 2nd for Mitch and Steve so it's all good. The moral of the story? Everybody, grab a friend and get out to Mercy Wine Bar in Addison.

And invite me, too.

Another party with Ryan S■■■ & Co. in the bag. I always have way too much fun when I hang out with them. They are like the silver lining on the dark cloud that I call my life. Ryan invited me to this party in his neighborhood and said I should show up at his place early at 8:45. So around 9:00 I joined up with Ryan, Brent, David S., Waleed, Sean W., and Tom the Australian. Tom talked funny. But, I took a liking to him instantly ... I'd like to say it was because he was nice and laughed at my jokes and was friendly and engaging ... but, it was because of the accent. I had one beer there while I shifted into my 'stand-up routine guy' mode of story telling and then we went to the party.

It was over in The Block, the same place the party was where David S. threw bananas over the balcony onto people's cars. There was a nice crowd there, the host, Jason, was celebrating a birthday. He has a really nice apartment with a stellar view. I indulged a bit on the free alcohol, but mostly just chit chatted with friends and strangers. Mr. K■■■■■■ showed up to end his quite impressive Sidesho-less streak. He claims that he's never at his computer when I message him, but I'm gonna have to call shenanigans.

From there it was off to Minc. There was a big sign up by the front door that you could sign. We (Ryan, David, Robert and I) discussed it over lunch this afternoon. Apparently the sign was for some girl's graduation. I wrote, "Hang out with your wang out!" and David S. wrote, "Happy Birthday!" Too funny. Especially since we had no idea what it was or who it was for. I ran into a bit of trouble at Minc because Tom the Australian said that he only liked to drink shots. So in an effort to show off the size of my ... wallet, I bought some shots. So by the time we left Minc, this guy was in a state. Roundup was pretty fun, I don't remember all of the details. I think I danced a bit with Tom the Australian but was too slovenly drunk to keep my balance. I bought some random girl a beer. I saw Eric Bohdan ... if any of you know who he is. We talked for a while.

Then I made Waleed take me back to Ryans. I think we went through Whataburger on the ride, as is evidenced by the empty bag, not by my memory. Me and taquitos ... I am so fun. I passed out in Ryan's bed and he said when he got home, I wouldn't move out of his bed until he danced. I wish I had been there cause that sounds funny. I was all indignant about letting him have his own bed. And then some friends busted in later but I don't remember that happening so hopefully I just kept my mouth shut. When we woke up we watched 28 Days, not to be confused with its sequel, 28 Days Later. It's a movie about Sandra Bullock being an alcoholic in rehab, the perfect post-lunch/breakfast (sometimes called brunch) where we all drank mimosas, bellinis, and bloody marys.

Ultimately, it was hella fun, despite my day long hangover and the dent in my bank account. Today was my dad's birthday and we ate the beautiful cake I decorated and watched Die Hard. It was good times. Tomorrow, I have to work again. How horribly depressing that this pattern will repeat itself until I die. Oh well, I'll get through it. And when I do, I will see you all on the flip side.

I hate working. I mean, while I'm there, it's not so bad. Sometimes the hours absolutely drag by and sometimes I'm done before I realized it was getting close to quittin' time. I have another piece of flair the Nazi's make me wear. This one's a cell phone. My whole life I have hated cell phones clipped to belts more than I hate Jessica Simpson (and her little sister now too). But, in keeping with the theme of turning myself into all the things I've always despised, I wear it obligingly. It's way too big to keep in my pocket because its one of those Nextel walkie-talkie things -- which I also hate.

Some other things that suck, and then we'll move on to more fun topics. We're getting this etiquette class three times this week and basically all they needed to do was hand out a piece of paper saying, "David you don't belong here." They presented themselves as this ultra-hip, young cultured company, but now they're impressing on us the need to look like mission control engineers from the 1960's. Fuck that. I'm not taking out my earrings. That's ridiculous. All I do all day is sit in a cubicle. And they keep saying things like, "If you're not married yet, when you do get married you'll want to eat with proper etiquette. And guys especially when you take a girl out." I know that's petty, but they make comments like these all day long constantly ... everyone does. It would be nice to not feel alienated for like five minutes.

So the fun topics I promised: This weekend, my first weekend in Dallas, could not have been better. Ryan S■■■ was having a party Saturday night, and I was on the ol' invite list. I went over to his house early so I could get ready to go out without the criticism of the matriarch. I helped him put lids on the obscene amount of jello shots and then people started showing up. JonS■■■ from College Station just happened to be in town and called me to see if I was doing anything, so I invited him to join me. I was grateful for him being there since I only knew a few cats and it was a little intimidating. There were like 70 queers sardined into Ryan S■■■'s apartment. It was great. But it did get a little stuffy and hot (I should take a look at his HVAC system) so we moved the party to the bars. Starting off at JR's, JonS■■■ and I proceed to drink Pink Cape Cods like they were goin out of style. Then we stumbled over to the Village with a couple strangers and danced and drank some more. Neither of us remember the rest of the night clearly but I think it ended with us buying a shot and not having enough money, so we left.

Not much else of note happened, but hazy stumblings and drunken ramblings with people we did not know. We made it back to Ryan's where he and his brother were waiting for us to take them to ... where else? ... Whataburger! Fantastic. I spent the night at Ryan's cause I'm a lush and my mother didn't want me to drive home if I'd been drinking. I was happy to oblige. The next day we woke up and went to visit Ryan S■■■'s friend, Greg, who lives in Addison Circle, where Ryan thought I might like to live. He was RIGHT! I fell in love. That's totally where I'm moving when I can afford it, which should be shortly. My first paycheck comes tomorrow -- can't fuckin wait. After we ate lunch and toured Greg's apartment we went and met up with Brent to go to a movie. So Ryan, Greg, Brent and I all rode to Stonebriar and met up with Chris Jones to see Stepford Wives, which I did not want to see, but I did want to meet new friends so I went. IT SUCKED. Real bad. Don't see it. Anyway, I just wanted to graciously thank Ryan, Greg, Brent and Chris for such a great time.

So that is what has been going on. Once I move out of my parent's house and get my own dedicated internet connection, I'll probably be more prone to get back into the updating swing of things, but as it is, I have precious little time to plug in and I don't always want to spend it narrating the past. But do keep checking back and emailing me and stuff, all the contact with my former life is a good thing. Peace out, have nots.