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I'll probably curse the day I bought the PedEgg soon enough. Each night when I'm finished using it, I marvel at how soft my feet are. And then the next morning I think to myself, "I could just run it over them one more time to be sure." And wouldn't you know it? They get even softer. I can see somewhere in the near future of both soles of my feet being one massive abbrasion. But it's so worth it. Daniel won't let me use it on him because he claims his hard earned calloused feet are the reason he is able to wear uncomfortable shoes. But I just know I could take a good quarter of an inch off.

In other news, I went to visit my motorcycle accident havin' coworker at his house. He's home from the hospital. All the scary stuff about fluid in lungs and broken ribs is past him. His color has returned and he's in generally good spirits. He has a titanium rod in one leg and then he had two broken ankles, one of which was operated on and still has no feeling. But he just has two boots on and has to use a wheelchair to get around. So all in all, not too bad. I try to cheer him up with stories of own infirmary and give him hints on how to keep from getting bored. But he refuses to take pain medication of any kind, so my top 3 ideas were just shot to hell. I wish there was more I could do to help but it'll just take time.

Speaking of motorcycles, I took the Vespa in AGAIN. They're going to look at it AGAIN. This time they think they know what's wrong. They called Vespa and described the symptoms and they were quite sure this is the only bike in the world that has ever exhibited these characteristics. Yeeeaaahhh, custom baby. They said if I dropped it off before I went to Australia that they would have it fixed by the time I got home. I don't believe them, but it's worth a shot. So I took it to them on Saturday morning. Man, was it a beautiful morning to ride. I was sorry to drop it off.

And lastly, I'm going to Australia. OMG. It's coming to fast. Since I'm not very good at planning a trip in advance, I encourage you all to leave me a comment with something you think I should do while I'm there. So far all I've thought of is getting a picture of me in front of the Sydney Operahouse. So that's already covered. Also, any advice for how to survive a 14 hour flight would also be appreciated. Thaaaaaanks.

Tonight I went to Bed, Bath & Beyond to buy a few things for my trip to Australia. The 14 hour flight is really starting to intimidate me. So I bought a Tempur-pedic neck pillow. I was going to buy a face mask, but I decided mine was probably good enough. And I bought a travel size of moisturizer because my hands always get so dry on a plane. Daniel was making fun of me that everything I was buying screamed old lady, so I kept saying, "Man I hope my mom likes all these gifts for her," as we walked around.

But you know me; I can't be in a store like that and not end up just wandering around looking for something to buy. And then I happened upon the as-seen-on-TV PedEgg. I've wanted to give one of these babies a test drive for a while. When we got home, I quickly assembled it and ran to the bathroom to try it out.

A little background story: Ever since my last knee surgery when I relearned how to walk, I've disproportionately distributed my weight onto my right foot. And it doesn't land exactly straight, so I developed this really thick callous on the inside of my right big toe. All the pumus stones and files of the world couldn't decrease it. Well, folks, I am ecstatic to announce that after a mere minute with the PedEgg, that rough, calloused skin is now soft and smooth. Same with my dry, cracked heels. They are completely healed! It's amazing! It completely works just as it is seen on TV, down to the parmesan cheese left inside to empty into the trash can -- vomit enducing. And you can just grate against your skin as hard as you want, and it only removes the thinnest layer of skin without any pain.

It's been a long time since I've purchased a product that worked this well. I think everyone should run out right now and buy a PedEgg. As an added bonus, when you're not using it on your feet, you can grate cheese with it. There. I helped you out!

After 3+ years of all talk, I am finally going to do it. I just booked my non-refundable 22 hour trip to the land of Oz. On August 14th, I will lift off from Dallas ... and on August 16th touch down in Sydney, Australia. I wonder what TV is like on the other side of the planet. I can't WAIT to find out. Do you think they have DVR? Do you think they call it DVR? Do you think it records backwards?! This is going to be so fun. Oh and I might hit up a wine tasting or a zoo or an opera house while I'm in the neighborhood. But best of all, I get to see my lovely friend, the Allistralian on her home turf. I will be gone for two weeks returning on August 27th. Best part of the flight home is I touch down almost before I take off. I will bring news from the future.

After booking my ticket, I was kind of on a roll. Like you do. So I went and ordered my KitchenAid copper stand mixer for my birthday. Really it's a birthday present from Daniel, but we used my credit card to get it. It's going to take a week to get here, but I really excited about it. I'm going to whip cream to stiff peaks.

Man, I'm more excited right now than Evan on American Gladiators. Rocket is the best Gladiator. And he's my friend on Facebook. I love TV.

We just went to listen to Salsa in the park here in our neighborhood. Turns out I really don't like salsa music. I had fun last week but the band was much better. Oh and I was waaha-hay-hay-hay-sted. So it was sounding good. Tonight I exited early. I basically woke up in time to go listen and it's hot and the band was terrible and I wanted I wanted to sit on the TV and watch beers. So I came home.

Oh, last bit of news. KaboomTown is next week. Everyone's invited. This year we will serve various skewered meats and vegetables. As well as skewered pound cake and strawberries to dip in chocolate. I call it ... Shish-Ka-Boom. You should come. And then the 6th is my birthday again. But this year it falls on a Sunday, so on Saturday July 5th, I am having a little gathering at a bar here in Addison! if you would like to join me. That would be awesome. Czech you all on the flip side.

I had a couple of firsts today. I've been riding the Vespa to work every day. I'm currently averaging 85 miles per gallon and I went an entire week without driving my car once. I'm over the learning curve hump and am actually starting to relax a little bit on my hog and enjoy the open air. I'm still cautious, though, because I check the weather every morning before I ride to make sure it isn't going to rain. Today's forecast said a 30% chance of rain, so off I went putting down the street. By lunch time the sky was starting to darken, so I ran out the door, hopped on my scooter and sped off as fast as I could toward home. My plan was to get home and drive my car right back.

I made it as far as Midway before the sky all around me turned black. Gale force winds blew leaves high in the air in swirling patterns and threw me from my balance a few times. I was already going slow, but I kept having to slam on the brakes and put my feet down. Not just to catch my balance but to then brace myself against the blast. It was so scary. And yet for some reason I was laughing and enjoying myself. When it finally started to rain, I pulled into the first parking lot I came to and ran inside. It was a delightful office furniture store with a very friendly staff. They advised me to park under the alcove of the front door so my scooter wouldn't blow over. One tree fell on a guy's car when I was there. It was an insane storm that only lasted about 30 minutes. But we all were like away from the windows and fearing the worst. When it cleared a bit I ran the gauntlet back home and all was well.

But it was the first time I've ridden my Vespa in a tornado. And hopefully the last.

My next first was when I got home from work. I decided to go by myself to a hip-hop dance class. My gym offers a different class every night and they're all free. So I've decided to attend them all. I have kick boxing on Thursday. Hip-hop dance was pretty fun. It was basically an instructor trying to teach me and 3 fat women how to do a dance routine. Only we were all terrible so it easily filled the entire hour. I wasn't too too bad, even though the kick-ball-change took me a while to get down. I'm definitely not a hip-hop dancer by trade. It doesn't lend itself well to my clear-a-one-arm-radius-in-front-of-the-mirror dance style. Even so, I still warned Daniel that when I got home, he was getting served.

She said next week we should bring a friend because we're going to be battling. Who's in?

My custom seats finally arrived. They are brown Louis Vuitton print. It just made my hog like 100X cooler and probably severely upped the resale (and the chances of getting it stolen). I've gotten great comments from people on the street as well as a couple of enthusiastic women holding up their matching purses to me at red lights. I just couldn't be happier, so I shined her up for you and took a picture. Suck on this.

Old men confuse me. Maybe there's a magic age at which everything they do starts to make sense and I just haven't reached it yet. Perhaps on my 30th birthday everything will become clear. One thing that has always confused me is how old men insist on being naked in the locker room at the gym. Don't get me wrong; I'm no prude. I strip down to go into the sauna. The key difference is that almost immediately after disrobing, I wrap a towel around my waist to spare people the blinding reflection off my ass. Old men strip down, weigh themselves, wash their face, look in the mirror, talk to other old men, and then and only then do they throw a towel over their shoulder and flop over to the steam room. I don't get it. What's the fascination with being naked? Have their wives banned the practice at home for so many years that the only way to get the liberating sensation of free balling around a room is in a men-only environment? Do I have any old man readers that can explain this? Do I have any young readers that get a thrill from streaking?

I had to add another confusing trait to my quandary today at work. We have several old men there and they all share a perplexing act in another all-male venue -- the bathroom. They pee without using their hands. I've seen them put both hands up on the wall in front of them. Hands on the hips is also a very popular tactic. Today topped it all though. The new old guy was peeing with both hands in his pockets. How is this even possible? Do they just not care anymore if their stream wanders off onto the floor? Is there some sort of rigor that sets in after 40 that allows for steady hands-free aiming? It's so bizarre. Please, somebody, help me understand. Do I need to start practicing now for old age?

After a few trips to Lowe's and a late night of carpentry and electry, we finally finished the bar. All we really need to do is touch up the areas where the hinges of the closet doors were with a little white paint. I also need to buy a beer fridge, obviously. Then we are open for business. Praise me.

I'm going to Mexico tomorrow for 5 days with my entire family. I'm really excited. We're staying in this all inclusive place in Playa del Carmen. I probably won't take my camera since I most likely won't take any pictures, but everyone else should be snapping away like crazy so I should have more than enough proof of my trip.

That should prove to be a nice vacation from work and a great long weekend. Then it won't be long until Kaboomtown and my birthday that I've conveniently combined for myself into another 5 day weekend. Yay, I love the summer.

Not a whole lot other than that to report. But I would like to mention that after just over 600 games of Spider Solitaire at work, my win rate peaked today at a record 19%. That's nearly 1 out of every 5 games won on the difficult 4-suit level, of course. Does anybody have me beat?

This past weekend, Daniel and I set about painting the master bedroom. We had originally thought that maybe we should just redo the bedroom I had in my old apartment since that was so badass. Toot! Toot! But what a horrendous waste of a opportunity that would be! Am I right? Ultimately, we decided to go with a variation on the theme of vertical stripes.

I'm really obsessed with Kenneth Brown. He's an interior designer who stars on reDesign. Every room he does turns out absolutely badass. He always puts this "spa-like feel" in every room and I wanted a piece of that. So I went a little bit out there and chose a nice soothing green for the walls. For the stripes, we masked off some that were much wider than my old ones. Then we painted them a light shade of yellow, let it dry, and painted this muddy matte brown on top. Before the brown dried, I scraped it off with a wire bristled brush to achieve a really cool fox finish. It's got great texture and almost ended up looking kind of safari. So we're gonna get some bamboo for the corner and maybe a zebra skin rug or something. We're still working out the details. Anywho, in the meantime, I wanted you all to see it. I hope this picture comes up okay on your screens cause it didn't look great on my camera, but it should give you a good idea.

I really wanted to lay out today like I did last weekend. My goal is to lay out every weekend before Mexico so I won't reflect all of the sunlight away from the beach. But I was especially excited to use my new cooler that I got from Target. It's super cute and holds 24 beers. Unfortunately, I can't realistically go lay out ... because it's fucking snowing. Like not a little bit, but really actually snowing. It's April for xrist's sake. I think this cycle of the earth warming and cooling is on like a 4 year cycle.

Anywho, so I find myself layin around with nothing to do, which is why I'm here talking to you losers. Daniel and I went to look at an apartment today but since it went on the market yesterday and is still occupied, it can only be viewed during specific times on weekdays. So Daniel's going to look at it on Monday. It's got a fireplace, a balcony, a pool view, a large mezzanine, a spiral staircase, two bedrooms, two baths, and a view of the circle out the other side. Online it looks perfect and the girl at the leasing office said it was a really cool apartment and would probably go fast. Which means our original plan of moving in together in December, and our revised plan of moving in together in June, has just been moved forward to as soon as we can get into this new apartment.

It makes a lot of sense. For one it's the next logical step in our relationship. That's the main reason. But also because it's way more square footage for less money. And while living across the street from each other has been wonderful, realistically, we practically live together already.

If things go well we might move in at the end of May. Which would be crazy but fun. I just hope we have some sort of overlap in our leases so we can just get a couple dollys and cart our furniture through the park to the circle. If anybody has a truck maybe that would make more sense. I'll be sure to keep you all post-ed on if we get it or not. Later, bulges.

In about 3 hours I will have successfully completed Febrehabruariii. This was, by far, the easiest of the trilogy thus far. I think having people doing it with me helped a lot. Plus, I'm getting pretty good at it. And the vegan thing just made it such a joy. I don't intend to binge tomorrow on anything, but I'd be surprised if I went too far into March without a relapse. I have this birthday party to go to on Saturday and that will probably be the end of sobriety for me. If I don't have something to drink on Friday.

My total weight loss was right around 7 pounds this year. That's about half of what I wanted to lose. And I know I said I wouldn't stop until I lose the weight I wanted, but ... I take it back. I am going to do whatever I want, but it just so happens that I want to stay a vegan and I want to stay on my workout routine. So everything should just work itself out.

I got a badass new haircut last week. It's kind of a mohawk, kind of a rat tail, and has a wicked triangle in the back. It's the haircut I intended to get last time, but this time I went all out. Oh man it is so cool. Daniel got his cut by Xristofer for the first time, too. His is a little more subtle than mine but also pretty wicked. His sides were clipper cut real short and kind of extend to the back of his head. You just have to see it.

I had all kinds of things planned to blog about but I'm having a really hard time remembering them now, so this will have to suffice. Leave me congratulations, bitches.

Not too much to report here. Looks like that Jonny fellow has attacked my website again, so you'll find the comments disabled temporarily for any post that was on the front page at the time. At least this time it doesn't redirect you anywhere. I'll get that cleaned up for your soon, but that's a timely process and I don't feel like doing it right now.

Veganism is going well. Sober and smoke free are not even an issue for me these days. Veganism is challenging at times, but rewarding. I had a dream last night that I ate a whole bag of Cheetos without realizing it. I can't have those in real life because they have cheese in them. A bastardized version of cheese, but a derivative somehow of milk nonetheless. My weight loss is ... well, negative. I've actually gained like a pound. I'm not sure how that's happening since I've removed around 100 grams of saturated fat daily from my diet. I have been using fatty avacados and nuts as a crutch to help me achieve the old familiar feeling of full. But even so, those are "good fats" and I wasn't going hog wild with them or anything. I'm going to try and concentrate my efforts on vegetables. I've slipped a little bit and have been eating a lot of fruit. Which is good for you, don't get me wrong, but vegetables are better. Less sugars. So I can't fathom that I could possibly go a whole month without any weight loss. If I rededicate myself to a majority of raw vegetables and keep active, I'm sure I'll meet my goal. Although at this point, it would be physically impossible to do so by the end of February. So you know what they say...

Hello, Marehabch!

On your mark! Get set! Go! Febrehabruariii begins! So far so good. I was nursing a raging hangover this morning -- one so bad that it required me taking a bath when I rightfully should have been at work -- so that always makes day one a breeze. I'm mostly just hungry. I think I ate enough today, I just never got that hungover satisfaction that a greezy mushroom swiss burger can bring. So far I've had plain ass oatmeal, a veggie sub, cashews, apple sauce and a protein shake. Not exactly busting a gut, but whatever, my body will adjust.

Last night Daniel and I celebrated our one year anniversary. Now, before any of you point out what I know you're going to point out, we decided that no matter how good or how bad things were for a while there, this was still the day that our relationship began. But we decided to party on Febrehabruariii Eve so that we could booze it up at dinner and whatnot. We ate at SoHo over on Beltline. Tres chic, great food, good atmosphere. I can't believe I've never been there. We might go back at some point because they serve hummus and I'm gonna eat me some hummus this month.

I just got back from the grocery store with 100 dollars worth of suitable vegan delights. You can't imagine how hard it was to find bread without milk in it. Or margarine that was totally soy. Reading labels sucks. It takes so much longer to shop. The other downside is that almost everything I got is perishable. So if for some reason I don't eat it all, then it totally goes to waste.

So okay, Daniel just walked in and busted me using his computer. My internet has been down for over a week, hence the lack of updates. I'm gonna go upstairs now and make myself some more blueberry muffins, but this time I'm going to try putting some blueberry juice in the batter like maybe in place of some of the water because I want them to come out blue. Huzzah!

Good luck to everyone who is participating, and by that, I mean Lauren.

I have been doing my research prior to my Febrehabruariii vegan experiment. I was afraid that an absense of meat, eggs, cheese, and pigs' feet would leave me wanting for meal ideas. Turns out there are all kinds of vegan recipes available for me to try. More than I could possibly try in 28 days. And I found out that the only animal product that is in my Subway whole wheat bread is honey, and I'm not counting that because bees aren't cute. Plus, I think they, like, excrete honey, so it doesn't hurt them anyway if we just steal it when they aren't looking.

I am so geared up for this. I made some blueberry muffins last night. Instead of butter they had soy margarine and instead of eggs they had applesauce. Now, you all know I hate to toot my own horn, but ... these are the best muffins I've ever had in my life. I brought some to work so everyone else could try them and they all agreed. And they're not exactly open minded when it comes to food.

One more weekend to go and then it's time to buckle down and focus on the trek ahead. I have another twist for this year. I am going to lose 15 lbs. Instead of hoping that I do, I'm going to. If March 1st rolls around and I haven't achieved this goal, then Febrehabruariii continues. Although, I highly doubt that I will have any trouble with a total lack of beer and steak, but still. It is entirely possible this could go on indefinitely.

Who else is pretending to participate this year yet fully anticipating to stop after 2 or 3 days ... or their first urge for a drink or cigarette?

I just spent a good 10 minutes cleaning up about a whole cup of sugar from the counter tops and floor of my kitchen. You might think I'd be annoyed by the necessity, given the Fantastik-sugar slurry that is embedded in my fingernails, or the history of ants I've had in this apartment, but you'd be wrong. I was chuckling heartily the entire time.

I chuckled because the sugary dusting reminded me of yet another good time from the other drunken night with Thommi and Brett Sabulous. It was around 3am ... or maybe 6am, who remembers ... and I decided I was hungry. Since I've been out of town for a week my fridge is understandably barren. Sidenote: Why is refrigerator abbreviated fridge? Where the fuck did the 'D' come from? I guess because frige might be pronounced [frig*gy]? Where was I? Oh yeah -- empty friggy.

So I channeled the spirits of Contessa With Her Shoes Off and set about making a fabulous dinner party. If I learned one thing in my stint as an aspiring cook, it's that anything can be fried in butter ... and everything is better fried in butter. So I took a tortilla and a frying pan and set to work. The first one was pretty good and after sharing my concoction with my guests, there were three chefs in the kitchen. Three chefs with ideas for improvements. We set about to spicing things up.

The first thing we found in the ol' spice cabinet (I call it that because it's the only cabinet that has more than zero spices in it ... and less than three) was garlic salt. A few massive crispy garlic salt chips later and we were back in the ol' spice cabinet looking for round two -- not to mention downing beers to rehydrate our tongues. Sugar! Fuck yeah! Sugar would be fantastic. So Brett made a few sugar tortillas. Not bad ... but lacking. I kicked it up a notch by making a bowl of cimanimanon sugar. As I fried my butter tortilla, I hit it with pinches of cimanimanon sugar. It was alright, but not really flavorful enough.

Brett informed me that the traditional way to sugar pastries is with a sifter ... which I just happened to have. He said three sifts of sugar should be perfect. So I got my sifter out, Brett held it above the tortilla, and I poured the bowl of sugar into it. It turns out that sifters really only work with confectioners sugar, not so much with cane. It all fell immediately thru and piled on top of our dessert. Unphased, we both said, "Ooooonnnnneeee!" Two empty sifts later and we had the best fucking drunken breakfast ever dreamed up.

So anyway, that's why I cleaned up all night. I guess I could have just said, "We fried tortillas in butter and put sugar on them," but I think the long version was much, much better. See you skillets on the flip siiiiiiide.

Are you gellin'? I'm not tryin' sellin'. I'm just tellin' and spellin'. Sittin' in my dwellin' quellin' the smellin' shellin' words like Ben Jelen. No more swellin' and no more yellin'. I know this is quite compellin'. Rumors dispellin'. I'm excellin' at expellin' foretellin', propellin' rebellin', eatin' melon. So yeah, I'm gellin'.

Sorry about that. I just ruined every Dr. Scholl's commercial for the next 20 years. But seriously, I am gellin' and it is fantastic. My Steve Maddens that I wear every fucking day had gotten quite uncomfortable. There were holes worn straight through the insoles. No only are they hella comfortable now, but they look brand new on the inside. I'm a big fan. The only problem with Dr. Scholl's is that they're so thick that you have to tear out the existing insoles. That can be annoying and destructive but it's well worth it.

I have been trying to figure out lately why I'm always out of money and unable to save a dime. While I was running through some budgets and whatnot, I ran to the local car wash for a 200 dollar wash. My car has never been so clean. Not even on the day I bought it and then rode around legs outstretched in the backseat wrapped in ice and braces for the next 3 months. They like fucking detailed the inside of the trunk, I shit you not. They also waxed it with this MacGuire's stuff and the paint is like smoooooth now. It was so awesome. I highly recommend. Now who can loan me a dollar?

And speaking of saving money, I'm having my teeth whitened next week. Yay. Pretty soon here I need to make it down to Houston to meet my nephew, Will. I might do that not this weekend but the next. I'll keep you all posted. Laaaaaaaaaaate.

The other night I got Daniel a popsicle. He said, "What flavor is it?" to which I replied, "Purple." "No, what flavor?" as if I am some kind of fucktard and didn't hear him. Back me up on this, but purple is most definitely a flavor. In fact, I think this is so common that even this joke is recycled.

Man, what the fuck is juice? I want some drink.

I spent the afternoon layin around watching TV. I saw this show about lottery winners and how their lives had changed since winning. It kind of made me want to win the lottery. So when I went to pay my rent, I stopped off and got 3 quickpicks. I should have 15 million dollars on Tuesday. I've decided that if I do win, I will most definitely post it on my website, even though they say you shouldn't tell anybody. But I'll also tell you up front, none of you are getting a fucking dime, so don't even ask. I'm not gonna be one of those people who doesn't change. When they interview people about me you're all going to say, "Oh he's completely changed. He used to be a nice guy but now all he does is fan himself with $100s and laugh." Yeah, it's going to be sweet.

Some of the advice these brilliant lottery winners gave was to play the lottery as often as you possibly can, and make sure you don't take the lump sum. RE-tards. One poor woman who won $91 million played the lottery every week for 18 years. And while I can hardly tell her she's an idiot since she has $90.9998 million more than me, I can tell you she probably wouldn't have been as poor if she was making smarter decisions with her money than that. And that goober who didn't take the lump some will get 200k for the next 26 years, at the end of which he'll probably have nothing. Idiots.

I'm going to do it right, though. I intend to spend my 15 million within the first 6 months. Rawk!

I think one of the easiest and most efficient methods I have for determining who my friends will be resides in the bathroom. If I meet someone new and go to use their bathroom and there is an empty beer can or bottle in the bathroom trashcan, it's a pretty sure bet that we're gonna get along finejustfine. I woke up this morning to find this Kerrs Lat can in my bathroom trashcan and it gave me a warm and fuzzy feeling because I wanted to be friends with myself. Even though, I have my suspicions that my most sabulous friend put it there instead of me. But still.

Last night I was layin around drinkin beer after a hard day at work. I had a case of Kerrs Lat and the History Channel and couldn't have been happier. Then I got a text message from my new friend who works at a bar near me. I'm avoiding names to protect the guilty. Only because I'm dying to tell you that I went to go keep him company while business was slow and started drinking. Brett Sabulous texted me shortly thereafter saying he was bored so he joined me. We sat and drank for a few hours, probably had a tab of around 70 dollars, and walked out without paying a dime. So fucking awesome. But I also didn't tip so I told my friend I'd buy him dinner next time he was around and hungry. Gotta love friends behind bars.

I was really drinking so much in an effort to produce a really raging headache so I could spend all day in bed in my newly darkened bedroom. It worked. And now, ladies and gentlement, I present to you, a new picture of my bedroom -- at 3 o'fuckin'clock in the damn afternoon. It is so awesome. Not exactly black, but close enough. It has been so nice -- dark and cool. I have my suspicions that this is going to save me a hell of a lot on air conditioning bills. But seriously, folks, I have a splitting headache. I gotta go back into my cave.

I'm off tomorrow for my week long vacation to Washington, D.C. and New York City with Daniel. I can't imagine that I'll have internet access readily available (or that Daniel will tolerate me updating my website when there are so many things to do). So this is my farewell to you all. I will update when I get home and let you know how it went. Laaaaaaater bitches!

Als ich mein kleines Diagramm heute morgen saege, beachtete ich, daß mein Punkt über Deutschland gewachsen war. Das bedeutet, daß ich mehr als zehn Besucher von dort gehabt habe. Da ich nur eine Person in Deutschland kenne, muß es mein Freund Marc sein, die meine Web site liest. So wollte ich erklären ihm hallo.

I'm takin over the world, baby. In fact, on BBC.com, they just had an article about the happiest countries in the world. Denmark came in first place. The U.S. was 23rd. This little map shows happiness in the world with red being the most happy and yellow being the most African. I took the liberty of overlaying my ClustrMap dots on top of this map. If you'll notice you'll see that the highest concentration of my dots are all over the happiest countries of the world. Coincidence? I think not. I am the light.

I made Daniel go out to Antonio's with me last night because I wanted to attempt to have a cocktail. I wasn't sure if the alcohol would sting my throat, or if alcohol would go right up my nose as water as been doing. (Did I already mention that the uvula is responsible for closing off the nasal passage when swallowing?) Well, I am happy to report that I had two "very, very dirty Absolut martinis," my drink of choice these days, and had absolut-ly no problems. I'm back, baby! Although, I did have a problem that maybe you alchys can help me with....

My first martini was delicious. And really, there's so much olive brine in my glass that it's hard to taste much of anything but that. However, I thought I detected an overbearingness of vermouth. When the waiter came to see if I wanted a refill I said, "Yes, oh and I think I forgot to mention, I also wanted it dry." And he said, "Oh, I'm sorry. So, more vermouth? You got it."

I was under the impression that a "dry martini" -- or a "dry vodka martini" for you purists -- would contain less vermouth than a regular martini. The research I've done online this morning suggests I'm correct. Wikipedia says, "A dry martini uses less dry vermouth than normal, perhaps a dash or lace of the glass." That makes no sense that a dry martini would use less dry vermouth, but it matches up with my original assumption. Am I right or am I retarded? What I want is a martini glass filled with equal parts of olive juice and ice cold vodka. How would one go about ordering this?

So Thursday was my birthday. I was pretty vigilant with my vow after last year's debacle to not make a big deal about it. Thanks to everyone who remembered and sent me a message or called. I worked on my birthday but took this Friday off because I was pretty sure I was gonna be drunk.

I decided that all I really wanted to do was sit on the TV and watch some beers. So when I got home from work, I tidied up a bit, cooked a frozen pizza and got down to drinking. Brett Sabulous had kept his plans tentative just in case I was doing something, and decided to come join me in my quest. So we sat on the TV together and watched a lot of beers. When Daniel got home, we moved the party down there and continued drinking. It was so much fun. So low key. So much more my speed.

Daniel got me a really nice Bulova wall clock for over my TV. That brings my clock total to 6 now. That's almost one clock per 100 square feet of my apartment. I am obsessed with knowing what time it is. This is the only nice clock I have though. It looks pretty smart over my new TV stand. I need to hang it just a smidge higher but I couldn't reach, so it's temporary now. Brett got me a gift certificate to Face, this men's salon in uptown. I'd never heard of it but their menu was quite impressive. I'm going to go get a real shave. I have ALWAYS wanted to do that. Hot towels, hot lathers, straight bladed razors. Omg, I can't wait. My parents got me a month of yoga. I really want to try out this place called Dahn Yoga over on Beltline. I don't know what brain respiration is but I'm soon going to find out.

So everything went just swimmingly this year. Unfortunately, speaking of swimmingly, Tuna is in bad shape. He's been really lethargic lately, so this morning I got online and researched his condition. He is showing every symptom of disease. I am going to get a heater for his tank since the temperature should be between 74 and 78 degress Fahrenheit, and if you've ever been to my refrigerated apartment, you know it's always colder than that. I'm about to quarantine him, clean his tank, and see if we can't revive him. But he's 2 years and 3 months old now, so I'm not sure how much longer he'll be with us. I'll keep you updated on his condition. Remember him in your prayers to Chuck Norris. Peace out, have-nots.

Our Kaboomtown party was such a hit! You'll see why I say that shortly.

First off, Kaboomcrown'ncokes are so delicious. I was able to convince most of the guests to scream "KABOOM!" when they ladled an ice cream scoop full of cherries into their drinks. That bottle of Crown lasted all of like 30 minutes. We switched to Grizzy Gooses (I wondered if the plural was Grizzy Geese, but it's not) soon after. When the Grey Goose was gone, we switched to Grabsoluts. That makes no sense since the "Gr" came from "Grey" but oh well. Absolizzy sounds stupid. The champagne flowed and the beer went way faster than expected. Smart move on my part getting plastic bottles. You'll see why I say that shortly.

When it got dark we all went to the roof of the garage. It was solid people. Solid drunk people. It was pouring rain. All the drunk people were dancing and hootin' 'n hollerin' in the rain. Yours truly included. Someone had a watermelon full of liquor that they were dispensing shots from. When that ran out, they filled it up with whatever beer was available. Too much fun. Brett Sabulous and I screamed, "KABOOM!" at the fireworks repeatedly. Repeatedly. Since it was pouring rain, they only shot off about a third of the planned fireworks, I'm estimating. There was no grand finale like I'm sure they had planned. I felt bad for the people that had probably planned the whole thing, it was basically ruined, but still totally rad. I love fireworks because when I was little my parents used to tell me that they were for my birthday.

After much merry making on the roof, we went back downstairs. I was pretty drunk and happy so some of the details escape me, but things got ugly. You'll see why I say that now. Without using any names or daring to understand the provocation, several fights broke out. Not like fun friendly fights. Like mean trying-to-hurt-each-other fights. I think back to like when Todd and DAvid would fight and I'd sit back and laaaauuuugh. Because even though they were throwing real punches and causing real bruises, you just knew that deep down inside they weren't going to hurt each other. It's like watching brothers fight. Not so that night. They were out for blood. And your local good Samaritan, Sidesho, was trying to stop it. Several mislanded punches later, several concrete tackles later, several wrestling matches and alpha male chest thrusts later, it was finally disolved, but not before our party was basically ruined. I was left with a few minor scraps and scabs, bruises all over both arms from someone fighting to escape my grip, a severely fucked up shoulder, two knees that don't take much to fuck up -- but falling on them on concrete did the trick -- a new trick ankle, and a sore nose. Good times, good times.

I was pretty upset at the time. By "upset" I mean "really drunk and upset" which always makes things worse. I took quite a bit of consoling, not because I was hurt, but because I had to watch people I cared about trying to draw blood from each other. I'm a delicate boy, I can't handle that shit. But now that's it been a couple of days, looking back it was rather exhilarating. I've never even been near a fight, and frankly have always been terrified of the proposition, but now I don't think it would be that bad. I mean, no one was fighting me, I was just in the way, but still, it doesn't hurt THAT bad to get hit. So watch the fuck out, everyone, this is your warning. I'm looking for a reason now. I WISH some mother fucker be sittin in my seat.

So that was my Kaboomtown. The 4th was much more serene consisting of dinner at Daniel's parents' house and a drive home where we could see at least 3 fireworks shows going on at all times. This is so my favorite holiday. It's really cool too because it celebrates our country's independence; it's not just some Hallmark-invented holiday like Valentine's Day or easter. So hope everyone else had a wonderful (and tad safer) holiday. Czech you skillets on the flip side.

I feel the need to share with you all a couple of products that I can't live without. I really wish I was better about letting you know of all of my purchases, but it always slips my mind. So hopefully, this won't be the last installment of free advertising here on SideshoViD.com.

The first one I think everyone should own is Plink. Plink your sink! These are little yellow balls that could easily be mistaken for lemon sours. When I grind up the fatty remains of eight chicken breasts and leave the remnants in the blades of my garbage disposal for a week, I'm just asking for an unmistakable stench. I used to rely on handfuls of ice cubes and lemon halves for salvation, but now I have something even better. One of these little Plinks not only completely removes the odor, but replaces it with the most refreshing lemon scent. I only wish they made them in orange flavor to match my orange Fantastik, orange Febreze Air Deodorizer, and orange Pledge. It's citrus, though, so it works. Buy some.

Next, we have Bear Naked. I was first introduced to the Bear Naked product line by watching their story on the Food Network. It was truly inspiring. I went to Whole Foods (the only place I know of where you can buy the stuff) and tried it. Incredible. The cereal is unbeatable as a breakfast, or any meal of the day for that matter, but it's also good just dry out of the bag for a quick snack. I recently tried their all natural oatmeal and I can no longer eat that Quaker shit. Bear Naked is just so much better. It's not mushy. It's grainy and nutty and so fucking good. I must impel you all to try it.

That's all the product placement I have for today. The only other thing I have to advertise is our July 3rd Kaboomtown Party here in the ol' Addison! Circle. Daniel and I are hosting a little get together, which will probably be much like every other night of our lives, except with fireworks! We have two drinks planned. Grizzy Goose is first on the menu -- a mixture of Izzy Natural Soda (ah, fuck, I just realized I could totally advertise that... try it too) and Grey Goose vodka. I know, I know, I only drink Effen, but it's too hard to come up with a good name on that. Second are our Kaboomcrown'ncokes. It's just like a Crown and Coke except we're gonna put real cherries in them. Kaboom! Oh yeah, also, every time you make one you have to scream, "KABOOM!" when you drop the cherries in. Loves it.

Let me know if you want to come join us and I just might let you. Later, have-nots!

Our dear friend Kelly has canceled her Addison! Circle lease. In the wake of it, she told me I could have whatever I wanted out of her apartment to save her the trouble of moving out. So the other night a bunch of us let ourselves in and went on a treasure hunt.

It occured to me in there what a peculiar word "dibs" is. You know how if you take any word and say it outloud enough times it starts sounding stupid? Another good example is merge. Merge... merge... merge? Sounds wrong, don't it? After a good 30 minutes of walking around yelling, "DIBS! DIBS ON THE COUCH! DIBS ON THE MIRROR!" I couldn't let it go. I came home and googled the origins of dibs. The long of the short of it is, no one knows where it came from. People speculate it may have something to do with the ancient game of dibstone originally played with the knucklebones of sheep, but the evolution from that to laying an unbreakable claim on someone's trash can is beyond me. It's just one of those unsolved mysteries. Duh nuh nuh nuhnuh duh nuhnuh nuhnuh.

I am the proud owner of a new couch, a new tv stand, a couple new lamps, a new standing mirror, and some new DVDs. My apartment is a tad overcrowded at the moment, reminiscent of the summer I spent in my duplex on Medina. Medina RULES! Thank you to my most sabulous friend, Brett, who helped me move all the shit across the street. It was quite an ordeal. Well, not really, I'm just being dramatic. We will all miss having sober Kelly as our neighbor, but she'll live on in all the free shit I ganked from her with the spare key.

Dibs on the martini shaker!

My blog affects my life immensely. It can manifest in two ways. Either I alter my usual patterns hoping to generate a blog-worthy story, or the things that I've said on my website are read by people who then affect my life. That's why I do shit like ear candling and enrolling in the art institute. The other night, I ran into Ryan S■■■ and he started hitting me because I said he always disagrees with me. Those are just a few examples of a constant whirlwind. SideshoViD.com is never far from my mind.

I tell you this, because I don't want you to think I've left you hanging. 90% of the day, I am writing blogs in my head. And I've written this one again, and again, and again, and again. If I write something happy-go-lucky, it will appear to others that I am flighty and disengaged. If I write something too honest, I'll betray my own self, and won't stand to entertain any of you, which is always one of my goals. I don't know what I'm really trying to say, just basically informing you that I'm going to just try to pick and choose humorous anecdotes from my day and highlight those, but I am, in no way, belittling anything that has happened recently.

I got a new noise machine for my bedroom -- The Sound Soother 50. It was really expensive, but it came with a remote control, I can plug my iPod into it and use it as a speaker, and the sounds are incredibly real. I've been sleeping with "downpour" a lot and I like to nap with "bamboo chimes." Another favorite of mine is "clothes dyer." There are a few questionable ones like "pasture" and "buggy ride," like who the fuck wants to fall asleep to cows mooing. You'd have to be a country-ass bumpkin. "Heartbeat" is also kinda creepy, but I think that's supposed to be good for babies. I just had to get some sort of background noise to block out anything ambient. My brain has started taking sounds it hears while I'm sleeping, creating a terrifying story to explain the sound, and overlaying it on top of my actual sights and sounds as I sleepwalk. Technically, they're not nightmares, since nightmares are types of dreams, dreams only occur during REM, and my brain does not go into REM. Their official name is night terrors. Hahaha. Fucking great.

I've stopped taking Provigil. While the doctor said that it had nothing to do with my heart rate, I found myself with a resting heart rate of 145bpm. Just to put that in perspective, it should be less than 80bpm ... the only reason your heart should beat 145 times per minute is if you have just sprinted a 5k. That was a concern for me so I stopped the Provigil. It's been hard, but I'm feuling my body now with complex carbohydrates and natural fructose to offset the ill effects of ideopathic hypersomnia (aka excessive sleepiness, but ideopathic hypersomnia sounds more medical). A high resting heart rate is known as tachycardia. Fuck me sideways, I knew I was broken-hearted, but I didn't know I had a broken heart.

I'm looking forward to several appointments with doctors in the following weeks. I'm probably going to be having lots of surgeries and procedures to aid me in my breathing, and then we can shift focus to addressing these K-alpha complex waves my brain produces for no reason. Yippee.

I hung out last night with my most sabulous friend, Brett. We had a lot of fun. He said his father still reads my website. He was concerned about me and had wanted to put a comment on my comment-less post a couple back. He also said he had left me a comment once but wouldn't ever tell Brett which one. It took me all of half a second to say, "I bet he was the one who left me that 'Stone Age to the Space Age and still no follow up on what bar was first' comment after Febrehabruarii." He just spoke with him and sure enough, I was right. I know my website way too well. Like I said, I am both it's unforgiving master, and it's unwitting slave.

Next week I am meeting three days with my new personal trainer. We've set up a program for me that should have me around 15% body fat before summer. I'm refocusing my negative, self-destructive energy as of late into a rather obsessive dedication to self-improvement. I've already lost 12 pounds, but that was mostly from an unintentional anorexia, but I was pleased that I didn't rebound at all. I'm viewing eating now, not as an enjoyable social experience, but as a necessity to feul my body. I have been eating SO well for the past few days and I already feel infinitely better. Just wait, people, I'll come out the other end of this better for it. I fucking guarantee.

Have a good week at work, and I'll be trying to find things to talk about throughout the week. Laaaaaaaaaaaate.

I arrived in Austin five days ago. I have yet to sleep. Traveling is hard for me because any deviation from my regular sleep habits hurts. My room back home is completely dedicated to sleep with climate control, dark walls and ceiling, fuckin rawkin mattress, expensive sheets, swedish pillows. Hotel rooms just can't offer you all of that. They don't make me sleep or anything, but every little bit helps. When you sleep for 8 minutes a night, inching that up to 10 minutes can really make a huge difference.

This has made me more serious about having surgery. There is a new procedure called the Pillar Procedure. When you have apnea, the soft pallate at the back of your throat relaxes and collapses, cutting off your supply of air. Your brain realizes this and "wakes" you up momentarily to take a breath. The Pillar Procedure involves inserting 3 foam pillars into that soft pallate to make it more rigid and hopefully stop this from happening. It's about a 15 minute procedure and they say you can do it on your lunch break and return to work. If you're not squeamish, you can go to http://restoremedical.com/video.asp and actually watch them fucking do it. It scared the bejesus out of me.

Ryan S■■■ wrote an article about the Pillar Procedure in the Dallas Voice. It featured me and a prominent doctor in the field. Even though Ryan fabricated some stories about me sleep walking to the kitchen and getting a knife, acting out a dream that I wanted cake ??????? which is embarrassing because sleep walking has nothing to do with acting out dreams. But regardless, I emailed that doctor asking him if he would meet with me for free. I know that doctors don't typically do pro bono work, but he mentioned to Ryan that he would like to meet me and I'd basically promise to have surgery if he would do that, so I figured it was worth a shot. What sucks is that it costs $2,000 to get stabbed in the throat. And I'm all but certain that my new insurance company doesn't take sleep medicine seriously.

I have got to try something. I'm sick of people perceiving me as lazy and irresponsible. It's like, fuck, doesn't anyone ever show up to work tired for respectable reasons? Everyone always assumes I am hungover. It sucks. I am seriously only hungover like 1 out of every 3 times I'm accused. If this pillar shit doesn't work, I'm gonna get a g*d damned tracheotomy and bypass this whole problem once and for all.

Sorry if this entry was a bit scattered, there's a Simple Life marathon on the tele and I am thoroughly amused. It's hot.

Join me, won't you, on the home stretch of the second annual self-imposed sabatical from all things sinful. Any by sinful, I mean enjoyable. There are so many stages of Febrehab that you go through during the 28 days of detoxification. First there's the optimism, then the irritability, the pain, the eye gouging, the night sweats ... and eventually, the hump, followed by the denouement. I am now on the last stage -- and RIGHT on time. Remorse. After all I've gone through, why, oh why, would I subject myself to it again. I could just continue this forever and be nonetheworse because of it.

But, FUCK THAT. I think on Wednesday, after work, I will wait until that guy pulls on the tail of that bird perched on the rock outside and makes it whistle. I'll slide down the tail of the Brontosaurus and into my car. At that point, I will flick a Bic and enjoy a Prince flown fresh from Sweden. (BTW, did you catch my Jetsons reference?)

Wednesday and Thursday will be punctuated with the grand, world-wide tradition Berliners refer to as "Feierabend." Ja, meine Freunde, I am talkin about the Happy Hour! Oh, I can't wait. I need to get the chops up, though, to prepare for our victory celebration that I've dubbed "Febrehabruarii -- 28 Days, Not To Be Confused With Its Sequel, 28 Days Later." F28DNTBCWIS28DL? Doubtful. Probable? Keg. Come. BYO, though, the kegs for me. Daniel can have some. And Brett Sabulous could have had some if were going to be in town. Party starts at 8 in Addison Circle. Bring a friend.

I didn't really save any money this year. Instead, I spent every dime that I normally spend on alcohol and cigarettes dining on only the most expensive of cuisines. You haven't lived until you've had 3 foot long crab legs, or 6 lobsters wood grilled on the table in front of you, or rows of raw oysters on a halfshell abed a mound of Sonic ice. I gave up red meat in addition to the other carnal pleasures, so rare steak was off the menu. I didn't really lose any weight either, but damned if it wasn't worth it.

This was the best fucking Febrehabruarii of my life. I'll miss it when it's gone and look forward to next year (preview: Febrehabruariii). Thanks to all of you for your continued attempts to entice me to fail at my goal, and thanks to me for ensuring none of you succeed. Onward, and upward. To the bars!

All of this sobriety is resulting in a lot of down time and some mild to moderate boredom. I decided I needed a project. And since I spend a few hours every night watching some length of a Project Runway marathon, I decided to get back into sewing.

Now, keep in mind that I do not, nor have I ever, known how to sew. But I have made clothes before. This time I intend to make a shirt that I can wear. I know that's ambitious. And while I may not know how to make it happen, I do know how to photoshop over other people's sketches to show you my design.

I chose the colors based on the cheapest fabrics available. I show you this sketch mostly because I think it'll be really funny when I finish the shirt. I'll model it for you all and compare it to the design. I have this vague feeling that my first shirt in about 4 years will go horribly wrong, but I promise to show it to you no matter what. Wish me luck in my latest fruitless endeavor.

Have you seen this Colgate commercial? They're implying that if your gums bleed a little bit when you brush that it could be a sign of gingivitis and that brushing with Colgate will fix that. But what gets me every time is the chick who says "When I saw a little pink in the sink...." You cannot tell me I'm the only one who hears "two in the pink, one in the stink" and looks up expecting to see the shocker.

I have a new goal. Well, actually, it's an old goal, but I'm going to go for it now. I want to own everything as seen on TV. I'm talking everything. I'm going to begin with the Faraday Flashlight. It's a flashlight that charges itself based on the electromagnetic principles discovered by English chemist and physicist Michael Faraday. I'm really impressed they named it after him too. I also like that you have to shake it in a masturbatorial motion in order to get it to work.

How was Vegas? Oh, I'm glad you asked. I won about 700 bucks. Yay! Unfortunately, I lost about 850. It was pretty fun though. I hit a couple of big pots on the slots. I was just in such a mood for slots. You know how it is, when you get all slotty, put on your slottiest outfit. I got to see the Allistralian! She is back in the contiguous United States. We were in Vegas together for her last night and my first night. Good times. I need to call her now that she's in Dallas. The rest of my trip was resignation fodder, but the odds of that blossoming beyond an idle threat are small. I used to have ambition. Sigh.

I don't have to work tomorrow. Rawk! Oh, I almost forgot it was still Febrehabruarii and I have to comment on it. I didn't crack whilst in Sin City. It was a huuuuuge challenge, but no problemo for yours truly. I've been having a lot of sober fun with my fellow rehabruaers, Daniel and Brett Sabulous. Oh, and in closing, let me just save you all 8 bucks -- do NOT go see Date Movie. Laaaaaaaaaate.

In a twist of irony, I will be in Sin City next week Tuesday through Friday. I will be working in a hotel right near The Strip. It just sucks that this had to happen during Febrehabruarii. I have decided that there is a Vegas caveat in the rule book. If at any time during February I am sent to Vegas for a week for free, I will allow myself 300 dollars to try and win enough money to quit my job. Still, though, no smoking and no drinking. The office in Vegas had offered to take me out and show me a good time and have me stay through the weekend on their dime. I had to decline the majority of that. I'll be home on Friday. Plus, Allison will be here. To add to suckiness, she'll have left Vegas the day before I arrive. Oh fate, why must you mock me!

In other news, everything else has been going well. I think a lot of weak people are mad at me, but there's very little I can do about that. So we trudge on. I'm really starting to look forward to March 1st, even though I think I won't break the rehabruarii until March 3rd because I'm running some training courses the 1st and 2nd and don't really need to be hungover for that. Start brainstorming what we're going to do that weekend to celebrate. I want it to be something fun. Laaaaaaaate.

It was the best of sobriety; it was the worst of sobriety. I've officially made it a week. To be honest, I wasn't sure it was going to happen. This is harder than I remember. Day 3 is always the worst (obviously, read the last post). Day 7 though is when the physical addictions have quieted down to a murmur and the habitual addictions come screaming to the surface. Today I was on the A&M campus doing some recruiting for about 2 hours. I rode down and back to be there for 2 hours. Lame, I know. But just walking across campus made me want a cigarette so much that the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I resisted, though, don't worry. I am still participating in Febrehabruarii, as is Mr. Brett Sabulous. I guess everyone else is out ... since you can't start after the Super Bull.

Really this past week has been nothing short of a roller coaster for me. Some days I just feel fucking amazing and the next I'm really, really low. I've had a lot of fucking fun, and I've missed out on a lot. I'm not all that pleasant to be around ... sometimes ... and you never know when that time is. I've given up so much that sometimes it's hard to remember all the things I'm not doing. What I am doing, though, is working out like a mofo. To date, I've lost 7 pounds. That's a pound a day, retards. I should write a book.

So, I was on a high earlier, now I'm on a low. Give me five minutes or another triple shot venti cappuchino and I might be on a high again. Until then, go fuck yourself.

I'm not going to stand here in front of all of you and claim that my life is any more amusing, entertaining, or spectacular than yours. When I get up in the morning, I put my pants on one leg at a time. HOWEVER, you would not guess it from the life I've led recently.

Our story begins last Friday. I was sitting at work when I received a phone call from Daniel. He had gone to Galveston for the weekend and was upgraded to the Palladian Suite at the Treemont. He said I should come check it out. I shut down my PC, walked out the door, and drove straight to Love Field. I bought a plane ticket to Hobby and got on the plane. We had so much fun tearin up the mean streets of Galveston. Oh, Galveston, you poor, poor shitty little town. We walked all around trying out every bar in town, meeting all of the club owners and DJs, and making friends on the streets. We ended up going to an after party at a really nice loft one night and a really fun beach house the second night. There are too many funny stories from that weekend, you'll just have to hear them in person, as most of you have.

Then last night, I was invited by Brett Sabulous to accompany him to his company party. He works for a major hotel. I don't want to get him in any trouble with his company through my webpage, since his father googled him and read about our first night on the stoop. Anyway, I don't really have anything incriminating to say about our sandy and gritty friend this time. We just had too much fun. There was a casino at the hotel with fake money, and then you could purchase raffle tickets. I had $4,000 to start with and managed to piss away half of it when I decided to bet the rest on one hand and get back to even. This is why we do not take Sidesho to Vegas. I ended up betting everything I had left on the next hand and winning, and then continued to scream "LET IT RIDE" for the next few hands. A few wins and a blackjack later, I found myself with 16,000 dollars. We didn't win any raffles, but still had a blast. A few drinks and a few bars later, we were back in our palacial suite at the hotel in Addison!. Way, way too much fun. We got on the internet through the TV and were completely stupid. (After some taquitos, naturally).

I started this blog like 24 hours ago and just now got around to finishing it. There are a few more stories I need to tell but I'll save them for the next blog. Laaaaaaaaaaate.

I thought that it might be fun today to play a little game with all of you. I've obtained an exclusive photograph of a celebrity trash can. Given the three options, you have to guess whose trash it is. Ready? Here we go.

Is the answer A: British soccer stud and metrosexual posterboy David Beckham, B: International super model and reality TV emcee Heidi Klum, orrrrrr C: internet megalomaniac and google addict SideshoViD.

If you said C, you're right! You win everything behind door #1. Now take my trash out, idiot. Do you think it says anything about my lifestyle that I'm overflowing with empty cases of beer, empty cans, empty cigarette packs, and empty pizza boxes? I think it means I need to buy more beer, cigarettes, and pizza. Am I right?

Really, it is getting out of control and while it's all going to be going away during Febrehabruarii, I think it might be prudent to wean myself a little before then. I don't want to put my body in shock. Speaking of, is anybody else doing Febrehabruarii?

Hope you all had a good New Year's party and were hungover like it's 2006. Peace out skillets.

Today was a pretty good day. In all honesty, I had a good ending by proxy because my neighbor Daniel had had such a good day. He went and bought this 200 dollar touch screen remote control that can control everything in his apartment. Right now it does everything but the lights, but he's going to buy a receiver for that soon, and when it's all done, he'll be able to hit one button and the TV will turn on, change to Video 1 for DVD, turn on the DVD player, switch the audio receiver to DVD and dim the lights. It does everything but wipe your ass, but we're working on that.

During his little shopping spree he went to get me a new DVD player. No more Playstation DVD watching for me. It's like every pool boy's dream to get a new DVD player. It will go well with the new iPod Nano I got. I also got a new bike. Awesome. The Danimal was in a really spontaneous mood from all of his spree shopping. He wanted to go to London. Like now. I compromised and we went to rent a movie we'd just seen mentioned on VH1's I Love the 80s 3-D. It was Mel Brooks's's History of the World Part I. It looked so funny on TV, but really, it was just stupid. I think his generation's humor has come and passed.

While we were driving around we passed a sign near the building site of the new Addison! Wal-Mart that said "Coca-Cola: Now Hiring." I've never seen a Coca-Cola store before so I can't imagine what is going on there. I'll tell you one thing, though: I'm going to apply. I think it would be fun to tell people that I started selling coke on the weekends to make a little extra cash. Only, I'd be a lot better than your usual coke dealer. At least when you buy your coke from me, you get a free bag of ice.

I just got my Addison! newsletter in the mail. I really have not been utilizing all that this city! has to offer. Honestly, I just keep eating at the same restaurants! over and over again when there are literally hundreds I have not tried. There's the Water Tower Theater! a stones throw from my apartment and I have yet to see a show. Speaking of theater! they are playing The Santaland Diaries! by David Sedaris! December 7th through the 23rd. Tickets! are $17-30, anybody want to go?

I also hear a lot about this Addison! Gym. Apparently, if you can prove that you live in Addison! (which shouldn't be hard to do since ... I do), there is a one time fee of $10 for a lifetime membership. I was confused as to how this could possibly be profitable for them. But I found out that I already pay for the gym. It's like part of my taxes. I suppose since we don't have schools or anything lame like that, we can afford to allot money to the Recreation Department. So I need to go check that out and see if it's as nice as Lifetime. I pay for my gym, but my company reimburses me the majority of it as part of the employee wellness program, so I guess I could always have two gym memberships. It's just a matter of getting off my lazy ass and signing up.

AllieD's friend Jennifer IMed me today and informed me that Target has outlawed Xmas. In addition, they have started selling bargain-brand vibrators at all of their stores. This is unsubstantiated information from an unknown source, but I'm definitely going to have to research this. Anyone with any information, please let me know.

I've decided in 2006 to repeat my February experiment. I'm sure you'll all recall it from this year. In 2006, though, it will (of course) be called Febrehabruarii. Like you didn't see that coming. I'm thinking that this year will be even more intense than last year. No booze, no cigarettes, no caffeine, no staying up late, no skipping even one workout, no ground beef or fatty food, no spending money frivolously. Come March, I am going to be really, really, ridiculously good looking (and out of debt). Mark my words. Anyone want to take up the Febrehabruarii experiment with me?

I might be getting a new washer and dryer today. I'm buying Miles' old ones from him because mine squeak and it is annoying. Lil Jarrod randomly called me today and we went to lunch with Daniel at J's, yum, and he said he wanted a washer and dryer, so I'm giving mine to him. Does anyone have a truck that we could use? You'd have to drive from Addison! to Den-ton¿ but I'm sure we could find some way to make it worth your while. I don't know how fun it will be to have an extra bed and an extra W/D set all chillin in my living room. I mean I know I'm white trash, but srsly.

I'm going to OKC for Thanksgiving to eat my 140 dollar Heritage turkey with my parents, sister & fam, so I'll be out Wednesday through Saturday. I got another coupon from my company for a free Butterball turkey, though, so I think I'm gonna throw my own Thanksgiving party later. Probably mid-December when Owen is in town. Miles offered to let me throw it over at the Hamptons (his new house -- in the Hamptons of Addison!). So that should be fun. I'll be sure to keep you all posted on that.

This next week is going to suck, especially with this attitude, but it will be a short one so I'm sure I can survive. It's gonna be a big push to remain employed through the end of the year but I'm sure I can do it. And, I think that's all I had to say. Funny, when I sat down, I thought I had nothing to talk about. Carpe diem, friends! HA! HA!

I've had a couple of stories up my sleeve for about a week now. Usually if I'm too lazy (hungover) to blog right away, the story never gets told. Who knows what awesome parties went unblogged and have since been forgotten. Well, not this one. Not Miss Lesbie Ann's Housewarming Party!

It was so grood to have the old gang all back together. It was Leslie, Rick, Josh, Bob, Raul, Tyresa, Aaron. So not the entire gang, but certainly some key players. We had planned on two days of merriment, getting drunk and retelling old stories. It made me miss the days of Halo when you just knew each weekend was going to be more interesting than the last. But back to my story, Leslie's house is just beautiful. I'm a tad jealous, but we Addison folk don't long for equity. Josh got her a delicious candle. Aaron got her a golden blanket. But Bob ... oh, Bob ... Bob got her cocknballs.

As soon as Leslie unwrapped the rather sizeable frame, Josh said, "That's BOB!" And indeed it was. This bit of expressionism is titled "Señor Humps." If you'll look closely, you'll see that Bob has painted his anterior and posterior with different colors of paint and then sacrificed his body for his art. There's really a lot of emotion in it. Emotion and pubic hair.

Thanks for the killer party, Lester!

Story #2. The other day, my most sabulous friend Brett texted me and invited me out to dinner. We decided to take up Smith and Wollensky (one of my all time fav steakhouses) on their "eat your age" offer. Every day after 8:30pm, you can go in and get an appetizer, an entree, and a dessert and pay a dollar for every year you've managed to survive (minimum $25, maximum $65). I'm not sure why they do this, possibly because we were just about the only people in there that late, but surely they're taking a loss on it. But who cares, everything that I ordered totalled $60-70 easily, and I paid $25. It's an amazing deal, everyone go check it out.

There are very few exceptions to the offer. There's some seafood boquet appetizer for 100 bucks that's off limits. And the live Maine lobster and like a 30lb. lobster tail. Pretty much anything over 100 bucks you can't get but anything else you want. So when I was asked if I'd like the 8oz. filet mignon or the 14oz. I replied, "Derrrrrrrrr." Not to be outdone, Mr. Sabulous ordered himself the 28oz. prime rib. And of course, we're connoisseurs, so we got it all rare. So there are 42 fucking ounces of raw meat on our table, as well as some potatoes (as shown), creamed spinach, and a wonderful bottle of wine. It was a fight to fit it all in, but we certainly ate until we could eat no more. g*d, I love gluttony. We had to save room for dessert, too. So we had all that plus crab meat and fried calamari appetizers, six shooter sorbets and the trio of creme brulees, and we got out of there spending next to nothing. What a wonderful way to spend an evening, thanks Brett!

I'm fresh out of stories now, until next time, same Sidesho-channel. Peace.

I went to the sleep lab again. This time, I slept normally at home for 8 hours and then woke up at my normal time and went to the hospital. I got to eat breakfast and then had to take a nap. I took 30 minute naps at 9, 11, 1, 3 and 5. If during any one of these tests, you happen to fall asleep within 10 minutes, that is a cause for some concern. But there are so many factors that they take the average. Cause some people will fall asleep really easily after lunch and stuff. Anywho, the AVERAGE time it took me to fall asleep was under 2 minutes. So I have scientific verification that I am tired. Awesome.

That's the reason I was afraid I had narcolepsy. But the difference between me and a narcoleptic is that they fall directly into REM immediately, and, well, we all know, I never go into REM. So I'm just way tired. And they don't know why. Well, they do know why. Because I have horrible, horrible apnea. But we cured that and it made it worse. So ... what to do?

They finally took Miles' advice. Miles always told me that my problem wasn't sleeping, it was being awake. And they make pills for that. Well, I got some. It's called Provigil. It is a modafinil stimulant that has none of the addictive side effects of an amphetamine. Please try to remember the name of my medication because I am taking the good shit -- the name brand. Nothing generic here. There are some knock-offs on the market that you can get, though. The first one I found is called Brovigil. It keeps you awake all day... and can also work as a date rape drug when placed in a freshman girl's Zima. Then, there is Movigil. Movigil smells good, but oddly enough tastes like well-vodka and Astroglide. Don't ask me how I know that. So ultimately, I decided I'd go with the Pro- version of the medication. There was one substitute I considered opting for, but it was just wayyyy too bitter. It was called Sidesho-vigil.

I am currently dosing with the Provigil, but will probably eventually be taking 200mg in the morning and 200mg right after lunch. I don't know that it's done me any good just yet, but we shall see. Once I get stabilized with the correct amount of stimulants, I am going to try the CPAP again. And then once we get to a point where I can sleep (and function the next day) using the CPAP, I'm sure I'll go in for another round of tests. My doctor said he's turned me into a research study since he's never seen anything like this before. I asked, but he said that it didn't mean that he would be paying me from now on instead of vice versa.

It's a never ending saga. I'm taking a break from it all this weekend in Austin to go to Leslie's house warming. And I might be going to Detroit on Monday for a week. That's still up in the air. Sheezalmighty, grood times. Holla back, yungin'.

And before you even ask ... $20.

I go to the sleep doctor tomorrow morning. From the research I've done, I have a feeling my life is going to consist of a little bit more of this than anything else. There is no mechanized cure for whatever it is that afflicts me; it's all chemical from this point on. I'm just crossing my fingers that I get a subscription to some kind of medication with a street value. *wink* *wink* *nudge* *nudge* Y'get what I'm sayin? Open up shop, beeyotch.

I'm actually pretty nervous. I make a lot of jokes about not sleeping, mostly because it's my favorite defense mechanism. The last time that I went to the doctor and they told me that I should stop using the CPAP because it wasn't the cure and that we'd have to do more testing, I sat in the parking lot for a while and cried. It's not so much that I care that I have to do all of this. I mean, I've gone through enough geriatric treatment for arthritic knees that I'm not hung up on wanting to be normal. Let's be honest, normal is just a synonym for average. But the utter frustration of the whole experience did get to me. That coupled with being exhausted, tends to weaken your barriers. But, fear not, dear viewers, for my optimism knows no bounds. I just know that tomorrow I'm gonna get some good news. Ooh, I hope they subscribe me some vicadin; I love that shit.

Tonight I got to see Miles' fabulous new residence. We are all very excited about the time that will be spent there together. Congrats Miles! Even though Mr. Sabulous and I were the only two people you forgot to mention on your website! This weekend I'm going to Round Rock to attend Miss Lesbie Ann's housewarming party. If any of you are in the area, give me a call and you can come to the party. I RSVP'ed to the e-vite with +46 guests just to throw off the guest count. Also, if anyone from Dallas would like to go with me, I'd more than welcome the company. Thanks and gig this. Later bitches.

Things just couldn't be peachier than they are right now. I know I promise Raul that I wouldn't talk about sleep anymore, but it's really integral to the story I'm about to tell, so he can continue fucking himself. They think that curing my apnea has given rise to a bigger, more serious problem. Like when my brain is allowed to do whatever it wants in REM, it makes poor decisions about how to spend that time. I'm not sure if or how they fix that (nor do they know exactly what it is yet, we're working together to figure that out) but it does make for good conversation. "Hi, my brain doesn't work."

Last night we had far too many people on the stoop. It really was just a matter of time before the police showed up and told us to go inside, which they did. They acted pretty much the same way we did -- not surprised at all to see us. They rolled down their windows without getting out and were like "Hey guys" and we nodded emphatically and got up and went inside. That's when the Texas Hold'em tournament began. It was 10 dollars to play, which I was kind of upset with since I ALWAYS lose, but whathefuck, I played. I ended up doing very well for myself and winning the pot. Cha-ching! I owe everyone breakfast today, so there go my winnings.

I was reading Miles' website the other day and I was kind of jealous of the sentiments he was expressing. He talked about how lately he's been focusing and rekindling old friendships and fueling new ones. And I pretty much feel the same. My stoop community is really fun and funny and the more the Addison Circle grows, the happier I am. It's definitely rounded out like fer shur.

So the reason my sleep is integral to the story, g*d damn I got off track and here I am doing it again, damned hangover, is because I bought a bed! I was driving home from work, made an evasive maneuver and bought a fucking bed. It's a Simmon's Beautyrest king sized and it will be here at 5 today. It's been soooo long since I've made a several thousand dollar impulse buy. I forgot how alive it makes you feel! Just as soon as it gets here and I get sheets and everything, I'll invite you all to come spend a night in it. Uh oh, I think it's orgie:30!

The reason I'm up now is because they're running a water compressor outside my window, not to be confused with the fucking jack hammer they had going last weekend. Don't worry though, I have definitely called and complained twice now. But I'm real cool about it so hopefully I'll get something free. I think I'm gonna call Miles and Daniel now and see if they're ready for their free breakfast cause once I'm up I'm up (until I nap).

Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaate.

I painted my bedroom ceiling. My walls were already dark green and now my ceiling is dark brown. It looks incredible. I still have some touching up to do, but I'm basically done. Here's a picture I snapped:

I'm trying to get my apartment in tip top shape before Mikey moves to Dallas. It's an indirect motivation since he's already seen my apartment and probably doesn't care either way on the ceiling color. But I needed a deadline to shoot for, so that's the one.

He's moving here on Friday. I am beyond excited. Also happening that weekend: My whole family is coming into town, Brandon is coming up from Austin to celebrate his birthday, Brett S■■■ (so sabulous) is having his 21st birthday party, Addison Circle's Oktoberfest, Dallas Pride. I have a full plate to say the least.

I bought a vacuum finally the other day. It sucks. It's a bagless one and I got through like half of my living room and the canister was full. My 735 square feet of fun filled the damn thing 3 times. How disgusting is that?

Well I suppose I'll go to bed in my Hangover Palace now. It is insanely dark in there; I LOVE IT. HAPPY 22nd BIRTHDAY BRANDON!

After having lived in Covington, Kentucky and traveling back and forth from Ohio for two weeks, I think I can safely say that I know what it's like to live in America's Heartland. We residents of Northern Kentucky/Ohio are a simple people. We like Jesus and basketball and White Castle burgers. Said another way, I can't wait to go home!

I am going to fly back to Austin tomorrow night. I was thinking about going to College Station immediately upon arriving but those plans are in the air right now. We'll just have to see. I am so ready to get home, especially since my on-again-off-again roommate Andy will be there waiting to stay with me for a few days. And I've got that night to spend wired up to electrodes in the sleep clinic. But a part of me will miss Cincinnati ... a part of Cincinnati anyway, his name is Mikey. But Mikey is moving to Dallas in about a month, so no worries there. *WINK*

I didn't spend much time sitting in my hotel room alone. I really think I probably have as many friends in Cincy as I do in Dallas. That's either a really cool display of my social skills, or a blaring example of my lack thereof.

So I apologize for not updating the entire time I was here, but this social butterfly was too busy flapping his wings. I would probably come back here if they asked me to, but only for a week. Two weeks was just too long. That expense check I'm about to get should assuage any feelings of homesickness I ever had though. I'm gonna be rolling in it, people. I can put so much into savings for my Australia trip this month. Or I could buy that leather jacket at Source Paris. Yeah, I'll probably go for the jacket.

Hope all is well with all of you and to my Dallas crew and Addison Circle, I will see you all sooooon. Late.

Okay, I've got a couple for all of you Google-Earthers out there ... or is it Googler-Earths? Check out [43.8789746068,-103.459672608] and [34.1341770342,-118.321979438]. They are both really cool if you turn on "terrain" and then tilt it to the max. If you don't have any idea what I'm talking about, you need to get your ass to earth.google.com, stat! (Did you know the term "stat" is an abbreviation for the Latin word statim, meaning "immediately?" I didn't. I just googled it.)

I encourage all of you to find something cool, obscure, recognizable and post it on a comment here.

Lately I have been really into trying these local dives around town. It started with the Rainbow Cafe -- I know, I know, big shocker that I went there. But it's actually just a great little soda fountain eatery in beautiful downtown Carrollton. I don't think they've remodeled (or cleaned) since 19dickity4. They have a big rainbow awning over their soda fountains and make shakes and stuff. They also have the most kickass hamburgers and they come with a figurative BUCKET of tater tots. There are so many of them that I have to put some in my zipper pocket to eat later.

Then after Brett S■■■ and I woke up on Sunday (at 9:00am, for some ung*dly reason) we tried to go to IHOP but the line was too long. So we drove a bit further and came upon Pete's Cafe -- "Come on in, for Pete's sake." Too clever and they served breakfast all day long. Our waitress's name was Doris, she was a delightful 60-something woman who called me "honey." Her birthday was last week. It just could not have been more quaint, and the food kicks ass too. Brett wasn't feeling 100% so when asked what he'd like to drink, he said, "A big ol' whoppin' glass of water." Why he said that, we both may never know. Drugs is cool. But Doris brought me my coffee and water, and the brought Brett the biggest glass they had. Too funny. Doris is a sweetheart and I can't wait to see her again.

Then today when I left work to go get something done at the public library (on account that the noise levels in my office are raising my blood pressure rapidly), I happened by this place only called "Donuts" that I've driven past 100 times. I decided to stop in. The requisite little Asian woman behind the counter greeted me. I had 3 different kinds of kolaches, all of which were fantastic. She even warmed them up for me in the microwave and snuck 4 different kinds of donut holes onto my plate when I wasn't looking. I sat at this oooold-skool bar while I ate. A donut shop with a bar? So rad.

Look, buddy, all I'm tryin' to say is that there's more to life than Smith and Wollensky's, Pappas Bros, and Three Forks. All of which sound just delicious right now. Maybe I'll go there tonight. I'm getting my hair did tonight, though, so it might have to wait until tomorrow. I expect that when I return from Cincinnati, myself and the Addison Circle will be hitting up these delightful restaurants?

Now get GOOGLING EARTH!

I thought I could squeeze a few more aliases out of you, since I was enjoying them so terribly much, but I guess not. If you think of one later, please feel free to share it whenever it comes together.

I couldn't possibly wait to update, though the time that has passed, and the beers that have passed through my urethra since then may convolute the stories. Sorry, was that gross? Anyway, I wanted to let you all know that the Addison Circle is coming together. Premier new members? Namely Miles, Brett S■■■ and Todd (although Todd's application is still under geographical review). Then there was Daniel and Kelly (?). They are my neighbors across the street.

So the story. Brett S■■■ and I have been wanting to hang out ever since I got back from Sweden and just now decided to carpe the diem and giterdone. He came over under the premise that we would drink and watch movies and see what happened. Well, what happened is that Miles and Todd were enjoying the Dallas Wind Symphony (which ended up being a 5 piece brass band) down in the Circle. We joined them for a bit, listened to the Sousa, and then I went to get some liquor and beer. When we were walking into my apartment to enjoy said booze, we got whistled at. Who does that? There were two boys and a girl sitting on the stoop across the street, so Todd yelled at them, "Which one of ya'll whistled." Well it turned out to be Jordan, who came up to say hello and invite us to come across to join their party at Daniel's. Gay neighbor a stone's throw away? Huzzah.

So we went and drank and chatted and then they brought out the Roor. I'm not sure I can adequately describe the Roor. It was the biggest, most intricate bong ever constructed. I swear to g*d, they all but brought out the welding torch to put this thing together. It had like 3 water reservoirs in it. I've never seen anything like it. This coming from the guy who uses a bong as a flower vase -- and nothing but a flower vase -- go figure.

It's not often that SideshoViD.com delves into the seedy underbelly of drug consumption, and it won't be through my own personal experience that we go there, but we do have to talk a bit about Mr. S■■■. As you might expect, Brett S■■■ is SABULOUS. He is both Sandy and gritty. He decided to puff-puff-pass for the first time given the circumstances. The combination of boxed wine, 100% agave tequila, vodka, beer and Mary Jane proved too much for our fearless partier. Miles and I walked him home around midnight and put him in my bed. We could have just left him alone, but instead decided to interview him on video with Miles' digital camera to hilarious results. Can I get a copy of that, btw, Miles?

We rounded out the night just having a grand old time with about 6 of their friends and it must, must occur again. BUT, first I have to go to Cincinnati for 2 weeks following my trip to Austin this weekend. So I will be gone for 3 weekends in a row. Just as the Circle is rounding out! DAMNIT! I am going to find a hotel that definitely has high speed internet access (so I can work from the hotel room, duh) so I will surely be updating you all from the WONderous land of Ohio. I have a feeling it's the Oklahoma of the north. Ugh. But a change of scenery is a change of scenery. It's time to get horizontal. Peace, bitches.

I just got done wiring up my new programmable thermostat in my apartment. I know it's not like me to do shit ... but I did! I took the old ghetto Johnson Controls (blech) mechanical thing off the wall, like the one we all have. Then I unwired it, removed the baseplate, replaced it with my baseplate, rewired everything, found some batteries for the display, mounted it, programmed it ... we are in business my friends. No longer will I accidentally leave my apartment at a frosty 65 degrees while I'm away at work.

Speaking of Frosty, I got my pictures back from Cameron F■■■ a while ago. I didn't really make a hoopla about it or really show them to many people. It's not that I didn't like them, quite the opposite, in fact. I like them a great deal. I just don't care what anybody else's opinion on them is. But, I have gotten lots of requests recently, so to satiate the insane lust for all things Sidesho, I've decided to post you one picture here to look at. I know, it's sex. You don't have to tell me.

Dear Justin, Thank you for my belt. I have never felt like more of a rockstar than this weekend when I got to wear it out and hang out with you at the same time. Dear everyone else, this belt was revolutionary. It's blue LEDs that scroll messages across your crotch. Mine said "JUSTIN GAVE ME THIS!" "THIS IS SO TRASHY!!1!" "BUY ME A DRINK" "BLING! BLING!" and then had some scrolling hearts. But the best message was my phone number. I got a lot of laughs for it, but only two phone calls the whole night. All in all it was a major hit, and while I'm not gonna Sean-W■■■■ the thing, I think I won't retire it as diligently as I often do with kickass articles of clothing. We shall see.

Dear Allison, I'm sorry that I'm not coming to see you next month. I know we had joked about which one of us would flake out first, but I just wanted you to know that my delaying of the trip is entirely financial. I had really been looking forward to seeing you. In fact, I can proove it. I was so stoked about getting to hang out with you, that I devised a little gift-of-sorts. For the past 3 months I did not shave my upper lip. I kept my chin trimmed and the sides of my face shorn into something I dubbed the "three-tier beard," but the stache just grew and grew. You see, I thought it would be really funny if after having not seen me since January, I stepped off the airplane to greet you with the biggest, bushiest, best mustache I have ever grown in my life. It was heart wrenching to finally shave it off, but I just couldn't keep it going until February. So, dear Allison ... enjoy:

Is it weird that after I get done tanning, the smell eminating from my skin makes me hungry? Somebody back me up on this one.

I got carded on the way home buying cigarettes at the discount tobacco store, and then the old Indian man went on like a 5 minute explanation of how I have a baby face and that means that I am a good person inside because a good person's features never change. I was like, "Thanks, Vishnu, can I have my smokes now?"

So I've decided to push back my Australia trip to July 7th through the 15th. That means that I will be here on July 4th and my birthday July 6th. Tomorrow is Justin's birthday, HAPPY BIRTHDAY JUSTIN. Hurry up and come to Dallas and bring me my belt. I saw a chick in a bar wearing one, and I simply must be the first to have one in my social circle or else the novelty will wear off.

This Saturday Ryan and Todd are coming over from Arlington to play drinking games with me. Thommi might come up. Lesbie Ann might come. I'm going to invite Will and Lindsay too to make it a royal college reunion. Ryan S■■■ is bringing Robert and I'm going to see if Lil Jarrod wants to come. Party at the 735 square feet of fun! Damnit, now I have to clean. Anyway, if you want to come, let me know.

I almost forgot, today at work I switched my keyboard to Dvorak. I'll let you all know how that works out for me.

Nothing else to report. My days blend into each other as I drudge through the monotony of a job well done. Czech you skillets later.

After a delightfully delectable breakfast catered by room service, it was time for me to board a plane bound for London Heathrow. It was a rather uneventful affair on British Airways, an airline that far outdoes American Airlines. It was when I got to Heathrow that I realized what I was about to do. All around me were two categories of people.

First there were the guys with kickass haircuts, all choppy looking, with great ensembles of shirts, jackets, pants, and shoes that I could never hope to pull off. Their wives, sisters, and friendgirls all had short chic haircuts and styles that would be considered outlandish even in our gay clubs. They were all fit and trim and hottt.

Next to them were morbidly obese fucks in tracksuits with bald spots and moustaches. Their good x-tian wives were wearing vests with puffpaint to accompany their 80s-framed glasses and horrifically permed hair and thunder thighs. In short ... Americans are ugly. Ugly Americans. They are so easy to spot and after 3 weeks of being surrounded by skinny trendy people, I was overcome with grief about returning to a society where these people were the norm.

But here I am. I made it back fine and I desperately need to unpack, or do something other than lie on the couch and watch the History Channel. I did leave the couch on Friday night because JonS■■■ was in town for the night so we hit the bars. Duh, I always have a fucking blast with JonS■■■, he is so one of my favorite people ever. We kept on having "just one more drink" and then I was teaching everyone how to dance like Germans on the all but empty dance floor. Tomorrow, I have to return to work and I'm pretty sure I'll cry.

Does anybody know anything about this ONE Campaign? You have seen those commercials with Brad Pitt, Bono, Ellen Degeneres, Tom Hanks, Jamie Foxx, Justin Timberlake and a slew of other A-list celebrities all saying one or two words. Generally I agree that poverty and hunger should go away but their website is littered with the compound hyphenated word "faith-based" in the same sentences as "government" and this is what makes me nervous. Any info from smarter, more informed people would be appreciated.

I went out again last night despite vowing that I never would. Once again, I was rather annoyed by the drunk people and left early. You don't have to be drunk to have fun in a club, but I firmly believe you need a couple drinks just to take the edge off of what is an overwhelmingly obnoxious situation. I mean, look at it objectively. It's dimly lit except for a few neon and strobe lights, the music is so loud that conversation is virtually impossible, and people are packed in and stumbling over each other. You're going to want to have a few beers if you're going to last the whole night.

The thought had occured to me after Febrehabruary that I might invent Marehabch and Aprehabil. By the time I hit May, I would have no choice but to resume drinking until Septemberehab, and that's just not clever. Even though Febrehabruary was a great success and one of the best months of my life (I'll have a final tally for you when it's truly over) I don't feel the need to repeat it immediately. This could become a yearly ritual for me, though. If I've learned anything from a month of sobriety, and I like to think that I haven't, it's that drinking isn't bad or wrong, but moderation is key. In this spirit, I bought myself a nice bottle of wine to drink on Tuesday. I'm fucking retarded.

I don't think I ever announced this, but I am incorporating wine bottles into the decoration of my kitchen. If any of you drink wine often, or just happen to have an occasional bottle lying around, save it for me because I could use about 20 empty bottles, and that will take me DAYS to accumulate. Thanks.

Well, I think its just about time for me to go cook a dry chicken breast while living vicariously through Contessa With Her Shoes Off. Then I'll drink a few gallons of water so I can sweat it out in yoga. I am so v. busy and important. Check you skillets later.

The first few weeks of work, I was really careful about not drinking coffee in the morning in an effort to avoid a caffeine dependency. That is completely out the window now. When I get to work, I am a complete wreck. I'm usually so tired that just keeping my eyes open gives me a headache. I usually try to just zone out for about an hour, and then my gal pal, Yue, and I go get coffee. Immediately after taking my first sip, I feel so much better. By the time I am done with the whole mug, I feel right as rain.

Of course, this high only lasts about an hour, so by the time 10:00 rolls around, I am crashing once again. At first I tried to get up and walk around, maybe endulge myself in a morning cigarette to get the ol' heart rate up (yes, smoking is my cardiovascular workout). But ultimately, I've found it works better to just take a quick cat nap. Napping at work has its own tricky requirements ... namely, not getting caught. That is SO unprofessional. I think I've pretty much mastered it, though, which is why I feel qualified to teach this course.

The first thing I figured out is that you MUST turn off your screen saver. There's no bigger give-away than staring at your idle screen. Most people are just going to be cruising by your cube and not even give you half a glance, so as long as something is open on your screen, you're fine. I like to use an Excel spreadsheet, cause its hard to read and looks busy. The other key is to nonchalantly block the direct line of sight anyone might have of your closed eyes. I like to rest my head on my hand, and cover up the exposed side of my face. I also try to sit like this whenever I am not sleeping, so it won't establish any discernable patterns. I also always, always rest my other hand on the mouse. Not only does this keep up the appearance of work, but if someone happens to walk in, you don't have to move a muscle to go from sleep to clicking around on the screen. Very smooth transition.

The last hurdle I couldn't figure out how to overcome was what happens when you have a visitor. It's easy enough to satisfy the passers-by who could give a shit less what I was doing to begin with. But a few times, my friends would walk into my cube and scare the shit out of me. And it is so obvious that you dozed off when someone says something and you jump. But today, I solved the problem. There you have it, folks. A picture is worth all thousand of those lousy words I just purged onto the screen. HEADPHONES! Headphones were the missing key. I put on headphones, but do not listen to music. But everyone thinks I am. Most of the time I will hear them walk in and there is no problem. However, if I've really gone into REM, it is completely justifiable that I didn't hear them come in, because I'm obviously blasting my ears with with something more palatable than the golden oldies coming in over the speakers. Then they generally bang on something, say my name really loud, or touch me on the shoulder ... all three of which would cause any music lover to jump (as if they were sleeping). It's brilliant!

Now all I have to do is make sure my coworkers don't read this site.

Today was just a rip roaring good time on campus. I had my weekly senior project meeting, which went flawlessly as always, and then met up with some of my friends who had gathered at the Straight Pride rally over by Rudder Fountain. Damned free speech areas. Has anyone noticed that not once have the free speech areas on campus been used to promote liberal, democratic, tolerant, or educated viewpoints? It's always a bunch of dumb fucking redneks abusing the power.

So we went and had a discussion with them all trying to inform them that every day on campus is Straight Pride day and to try and belittle Gay Awareness Week, no matter how good your intentions may be, will be misinterpreted by the less educated (i.e. most dangerous) members of our little society. We didn't have long to talk to them because they were closing down camp for the day, but promised they would be back tomorrow if we wanted to talk to them some more. So I think we're going to get a big group of sane people together, just to show that on this campus, for every idiot who thinks Straight Pride is funny, there are two people who realize the implications.

You might think we were out of fun after these idiots cleared out, but no, OH NO, our fun had just begun. Our beloved campus evangelist, the one and only, Mr. Tom S■■■ was back! Hoorah! Our friend Jon S■■■, like the leader of Aggie Democrats, and a Jew, no less, had quite a time talking to Mr. S■■■. I don't like to talk to him because I know that he is an accomplished speaker and the last time I talked to him he turned my words back around on me. I prefer to prey on his little minions that he positions throughout the crowds to talk to you as you bad mouth him under your breath. I got sucked into an argument when I overheard some guy proclaiming that g*d was obviously real ... just look at the tree ... how could you possibly explain the tree without g*d? So I pointed out that it could be explained with Horticulture, a subject that is taught at this very university! Shazam!

Then he tried to tell me that faith was logic. To which I countered that faith is the opposite of logic, at which point, a guy who is in my major, and an active BUc (Brother Under christ) jumped in. We talked for a long time much to the amusement of my friends who were sitting near by. I've never really been observed in one of these arguments even though I tend to have them WAY more often than I'd like. But they were all laughing because, apparently, I show no emotion ... big shocker there, I'm totally monotone all the time. But they said that the other guy would get worked up and I wouldn't give a shit, which is basically true. We had to stop arguing though because he wanted to go on forever when it was apparent to me that our beliefs were fundamentally opposite, and no common ground could be met. For every christian bullshit line he pulled out, I put it back on him. He said he was trying to spread g*d's word to help me, I told him I was trying to convince him otherwise to help him.

All in all it was the same argument I always have with these people. I always think that it must be such a treat for them to get to talk to me, and such a drag for me to talk to them. Because I formed my own opinions on everything and they're good and funny and logical, whereas they all read the same stupid fairytale book for their opinions, so I know exactly what they're going to say next. Fucking automatons. My favorite part of the discussion was when I informed him, "There is no heaven. There is no hell. There is no g*d. There is no jebus. There is no salvation. There is no sin. You've got to stop thinking in terms like that." Lovely, just lovely. I love myself.

I am God.

I took a picture of my brown hair but I don't like the self portrait thing with my camera, so you all have to wait until I get someone else to take my pictures before you can see it. I am totally styling it in 70's retro style, and everyone hates it but me. But it completely cracks me up so I'll probably keep it up for a while. In the mean time, if you'd like to meet us out at Rudder Fountain tomorrow to speak more with the bigots, do just that. We'd love to have you. Laaaaaaaaaate.

As it turns out, I really don't know how to tan. In fact, I was going to attempt to photograph my ineptitude, but the problem seems to have faded, so I'll illustrate for you again. I got a membership at Total Tan for 25 bucks for a month. So far I've only been twice, but I've fucked it up twice now. Every time I get out of the bed, my body is a splotchy, nasty red, white and tan neopolitan mess. That's not sexy. Maybe one of these days I'll figure it out.

This morning I had a missed call at 8:10am from a private number. Only two people I know use private numbers. One of them is my old boss, but he knows better than anyone that this guy wouldn't be awake at 8:10am since thats when I was supposed to be at work every day and I'd roll in around noon usually. The other is our dear Yalie friend, Chris, whom I normally wouldn't suspect, but he is supposed to be coming home today for a few days. Again though, why would he call so early and not leave a message? More than likely what we have on our hands here is some sort of telemarketer riling up my imagination.

Got a lot to do this week. Have a couple projects due on friday. Spent 10 and a half hours in one chair yesterday working on a program. Normally I wouldn't have spent so long working on it but it was just one of those days where everything was just going right. I was really making great progress and didn't want to stop and come back on a day when everything would just be going wrong, because those certainly are easier to come by. I went and had a beer with Bo over at Fitzwilly's around 11:00. That was so delicious esp. since I hadn't eaten all day. I'm fasting this week. Anyway, I suppose I should go wash off this brown sugar and get headed to campus.

One last foot note. David27 found a zippo lighter in my couch cushions that says "TAMU OUTLAW '03 CORPS OF CADETS" on its sides. It's not that I desperately want to return this to its rightful owner, I'm just dying to know who the closet corps boy is, because if I'm gonna have a corps boy in my house I need to at least know who he is ahead of time. So if it's yours, fess up, soldier. Laaaaaaaaaate.

When last we left our intrepid hero, we found him in the throws of Keystone admidst strangers. Let us now discuss everything that has occurred ... from blackout to blackout. Ryan S■■■ left Dallas with three friends in tow -- Aaron, Aric and Brett. None of the three had ever been to College Station or anywhere nearly as cosmopolitan. They were expecting a cow town, and while we certainly are one, we did our best to restrict their visit to my apartment, HEB, Halo, and Johnny Carino's. In other words, no Dixie Chicken, Duddleys, Shadow Canyon, Chicken Oil Co. (or any Don Gainer owned, shotty wooden construction establishments).

I was over at 27's apartment when they arrived, but had left Owen with a phone number where I could be reached, since I had cleverly forgotten my phone at home. Once we arrived, we had a lot of fun ordering pizza, drinking beers (and Smirnoffs *shakes head disappointedly*), and inviting everyone we knew over. Even our dear friend Christina L■■■ from my major dropped by and ended up going to the club with us. My shirt from the Gap was still too big so I just wore the graphic T I had originally purchased as an undershirt. Many hours later, a large group of us were ready to get our drink on ... and we did just that. Aaron, the bartender, was very nice to us ... even giving us a free round of shots that I vaguely, vaguely remember. I had gone in with the vocalized goal of getting too drunk, a goal I never fail to meet. Several vodka tonics later, things get a little hazy. I know that we spent the night dancing erratically.

On the way home, we stopped off at Whataburger to get some taquitos. This is just a given for me, I always stop at Whataburger, but it has become a sort of College Station activity for Ryan S■■■, and he wanted to share it with his crew. And I guess us talking about it got everyone in the mood, as is evidenced by the many, many fast food bags strewn about my living room. I'm not entirely clear on the rest of the night's activities. I know I drank a few more beers and woke up with no bruises ... so it couldn't have been too crazy. Let's just say "the sun came up on us" because it did. Which I hate. Off to sleep in a massive heap on the floor because some party poopers had crashed early in my bed.

The next afternoon, the grogginess starts to fade as we're motivated to stand up and drive to Johnny Carinos (which is literally across the street, a stone's throw from my apartment). I wasn't quite ready to eat, so I got a box for mine -- so trashy, I love it. Dallas boys bid adieu, 27 and I immediately went back to bed. My sleeping schedule is so wiggity whack ya'll. And my apartment looks like a train wreck ... provided that train had been carrying an assortment of empty beer cans, bottles, and fast food wrappers. Maybe I'll remedy that today ... or maybe it'll still be here the next time the Dallas boys come party.

There is a tentative plan to make our own pilgrimage to Dallas to live it up with them. I've been out in Dallas with Ryan S■■■ many times, so I know that these country bumpkins from south Texas would absolutely love it. I will surely let you all know when that date is afoot. Until then, thanks to everyone who partied with me this weekend, you all uniquely enhanced my fun that had already runneth over. Later, have nots, have a good week.