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Glad You're Goin' My Way
Things have been interesting lately. I�ve been running on a lot less sleep than I usually do, but I�m still managing to feel recharged in the morning. Last night I fell asleep around 8:30 p.m., but woke up at 1:30 a.m. restless and ready to go. I toyed briefly with the idea of making some surprise late night phone calls, but in the end settled on drinking a glass of water, checking my e-mail, and crawling back into bed where I slept really really badly for 5 more hours. The details on all this buzziness, for now, are mine. However, if you haven�t recently found yourself up at 3:30 a.m. explaining your somewhat peculiar fixation on she-male porn and giggling your way through the exposition of some of your deepest darkest (and by �darkest,� I mean weirdest) secrets (some of them, mind you), or comparing your bad dating experiences (and losing miserably) then you should be very very jealous. The weekend was good. Sarah T. and I hit the bad bar on Saturday night and found that the rodeo was in town. Do I really need to give any further explanation as to why that was so awesome? And no, it�s not because I like cowboys. It�s because I have a healthy appreciation for cowboy hats and cowboy boots and belt buckles bigger than my face. In Rochester, MN. On Saturday night. At the bad bar. In any case, Sarah T. and I managed to exercise some restraint and did not wind up closing the bar down. Certainly it wasn�t the most wild & crazy night on the town that we�ve ever had, but it was a good night for us. So, the Vikings forgot to show up to their game against the Eagle�s yesterday. That was painful. I watched the game at my parents house on their �TV so big I�m pretty sure they had to donate an organ or two to afford it (and also where was all this money for fun toys when we were kids anyway? HUH?)� and I can assure you that the stomping we took yesterday didn�t look any less ugly in high definition. Eh, at least there were cocktail weenies. I am having a love affair with pin stripe pants. That is all. |
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