I just checked the weather report for this weekend, and it's going to be awesome. In fact, on Sunday, they used the phrase "abundant sunshine". So, if you're one of those people that likes to use that whole sunshine/ass combination phrase (you know, something along the lines of "when the sun shines on my a-hole"), you should probably be careful on Sunday. Also, if it's abundant, the sun will apparently shine on the same dog's ass on the same day.

Here's what it's like to be me. There's this song by Pearl Jam called Last Kiss.

What's that? Yeah, I know, it's a remake of some old song, but I don't really care, because that's NOT FRIGGIN' IMPORTANT! Stop talking to me and move over there ------------->

Ok, so, we've gotten rid of the jackass part of my brain. That part always likes to say stupid, annoying things like "dude, that's a remake, Pearl Jam didn't originally sing that" when I'm trying to tell a story. Anyway.

So, in the tune, dude's driving a car with his chick riding along, and comes upon some sorta wreck or obstruction in the road, and according to the lyrics, he couldn't stop and "swerved to the right". They end up getting in some hecka crash, she gets killed, he smooches her one last time (hence the title "Last Kiss" ... see how that works? Tricky bastards) and then he's very sad. Stop crying, that's not the important part. Now, if he swerved to the right, wouldn't the collision have happened on HIS side of the car? Therefore, he'd be the one all f-ed up, and his chick would be the one crying. KnowwhatImean?

Yup, that's what it's like to be me. If you'd like, I can draw you a visual. Ok, jackass part of the brain, you can come back now.

Dunno if any of you are Christopher Guest fans, but I think his movies are pretty funny. If you don't know, he's done Spinal Tap, Best In Show, Waiting for Guffman, and A Mighty Wind. I haven't seen Spinal Tap (yeah, I know, I have to see it ... shaddap already!), but the other three are pretty comical.

Here's the problem, though. I feel like the world's biggest geek watching these movies. I mean, in A Mighty Wind, it's all about folk music, and I'm sitting there trying to figure out if they are doing real folk music, or just making fun of folk music. In essence, I don't think I'm smart enough to watch them. Maybe I should stick with Dumb and Dumber. Let's do some right now.

What are the chances of a guy like you and a girl like me ending up together?
Not good.
Not good, like, a hundred to one?
More like a million to one.
...
...
... so you're telling me I've got a chance?! YES!

We went to the Secret Service Training Center on Tuesday on a sorta field trip. Don't ask why, just follow along. So, we got to take part in some of the exercises they do. Basically, they do these scenarios where they pretend a VIP is in some situation, and then they throw weird things in there to test the SS dudes/dudettes to make sure they know what to do. Wacko stuff, like someone giving one of those overly happy Muppit-esque handshakes or scary stuff like mace/pepper spray and that sorta lot.

Well, in one, the president of the Dominican Republic is giving a speech, and I was asked to heckle her. Me. I mean, I'm the least likely person I know to do something like this. Might as well ask me to torture cats. It was quite odd, but I think I did ok. I was acting pretty angry ... I pretended that I was watching Paris Hilton cashing yet another billion dollar check for ... uh, being a bimbo? Being a professional idiot? Not being stumpy? It sucked, because the lady playing the president was pretty hot. Ok, ok, she was hot from the shoulders up, but still. I'm not into heckling, and I'm certainly not into heckling hot women. No, Paris Hilton is not hot.

So, I'm listening to the new Fiona CD now. The first song is ... um ... very interesting. It sorta sounds like a TV theme show song. Weird. She gets back to normal Fiona soon after - angry about everything. That's how I like my women - angry, angry, furious and hot. And Scientologists. Who doesn't love a good Scientologist these days?

The new Sheryl CD is actually a'ight. I mean, I'll always have a special place for the Globe Sessions, especially since there are a couple of lines in there that fit me perfectly. But, this new CD isn't all that bad - she's still writing about tough stuff, which is good. I was expecting a song titled "Lance Is Purty" or "Ode To Bike Ridin'", so I'm cool with what she's done.

Fiddlesticks! Man, I love that word. Is that a word or two? Eh, I'm going with one. Say it right now. See? It's an excellent sub for a cuss word, too, especially if you say it with enough force.

Oh, cut me off, will ya?! Fiddlesticks to you, mofo!
Gas is HOW MUCH? Fiddlesticks!
For fiddlestick's sake!

Ok, the last one doesn't work as well without a good F bomb. But, ya get the point.

Just watched The Ring 2. Sucked. Moving on.

You know what was always a good joke as a kid. When you'd do the fake piece of gum thing. You know, you'd take a wrapper, and wrap the thing up like it was a piece of gum, then offer it to a buddy. I think I'm going to start doing that again, just to be a dope.

Um, the weekend. Let's see what I can recall. Well, clearly, I'm a major glutton for punishment, because I went back to the Bay Cafe for their happy hour on Friday ... and, once again, I left the Bay Cafe pretty tipsy before the sun was even down. Friggin' sun. It's clearly the sun's fault, not mine. I'm going to have that fixed soon.

From there, went to Fed Hill to a birthday party for two buddies. I'm starting to sour on Fed Hill a bit. It just seems to be getting kinda young. Yeah, yeah, the ol' "no, you're just getting old" noise ain't gonna work, so shut off. Anyway, I bounced around there for a couple of hours, then took a cab to Portside. I can't help it! That place is like a magnet for whatever reason.

So, after the joint closes, I'm having some pizza with some late night folks, and I somehow get into this odd confrontation with this chick. She's talking all kindsa trash, and finally, I challenge her to a duel at the top of the hill which is in the center of the square. It was kinda weird - I actually thought she was going to start throwing, and I was prepared to basically to Karate Kid stuff to block ... you know, paint the fence, wax on, loofah Mr. Miagi's back fat ... wait, that wasn't one of the things. Anyway.

So, we get up there, square off, and she gives me a big wet kiss on the cheek. I actually recoiled a bit, because I was expecting her to swing. Never let it be said that I don't live one strange life.

Saturday was pretty boring. I was half-assed invited to a bachelor party (don't ask ... let's just say that I have a couple of friends that are half-assed in a lot of ways, especially reliability), but I decided to stay in and PPV The Ring 2. Yeah, I know I said I just watched it, but I started on Saturday, and it put me to sleep. Never a good sign when a scary movie puts you to sleep.

Sunday was hecka interesting, though. Went to the Fed Hill Festival (there's always a festival there - don't ask me the name, cuz I dunno), and proceeded to walk up to my friends and immediately see my ex. Great start! She hasn't talked to me since the breakup, so I gave her a wave and she gave me some ice crystals back via visionquest.

The festival was cool - lotsa beeeeeautiful women, football, drinks ... what's not to like? Now, here comes the funny part of the weekend. I come home, and decide I'm going to hit the Bay Cafe Jamician'me Crazy party, which is a pretty happening Sunday night thing around here. So, I take a quick shower, put on some fancy duds, and head out. I get down there, and I am FIRED UP about this. I walk in, and there are all of 7 people at the bar. D'oh. Eh, I figure something must be going on up on the Square, right? C'mon, people! I walk up to Portside, and there are 5 people sitting at the bar watching Family Guy. Holy socks, Batman!

So I went home and ate turkey pot pie. Well, not really, but it sounds funnier that way.

I also just ruined one of my cool new shirts that I bought. It accidently got put in with my work shirts ... uh, dry clean only dumbass. So, if you know any little people that need a fancy, wrinkled shirt, lemme know. Stupid me.

Ok, I want some answers RIGHT NOW. Which one of youse forgot to tell me that the 19th was official "Talk Like A Pirate" Day? I mean, have you seen the label of my favorite alcoholic beverage? There's a friggin' PIRATE on there! I'm very disappointed in all of you. Go to your rooms.

Yeah! There's nothing quite as good as not taking any responsibility for your own actions. It's all YOUR fault that I missed it. Woot!

So, if you live in the Gulf area, are you thinking of moving? I mean, this latest little honey of a hurricane is off the charts. Last I read, it's so strong, they were wishing they had another friggin' category. Um, yeah. Once the bad weather starts getting to the point where they have to invent measurements, I'm thinking it's time to hit the bricks. I'm crazy like that.

Along those lines, how much does it suck to have the name Katrina right now? I mean, my first reaction when I hear that name is to flinch. Not so good.

I've found a pretty easy way to tell when the furballs need their nails trimmed. If I pick one up, and the rug comes up with them ... yeah, it's time for a trim. The beauty of the trim is that they both absolutely HATE it. I've gotten to the point where I don't have to wrap them in a blanket, but it's still major drama queen time in cat world.

The cool thing is, they're siblings, so when one is on the "cutting block", the other sort of circles around on the floor nearby. Very protective, those two. I'm waiting for them to jump me in the middle of the night and start cutting my nails. Not that I couldn't use it, I just don't think they'd be very good at it. Lack of thumbs and all that noise, doncha know.

Fiona Apple has been found! She has a CD coming out next month - 'bout damned time! I also got the new Sheryl Crow, although I haven't listened to it yet. I'm a little bit afraid to - I'm worried that we've lost Sheryl to the happy side. Those of us on the dark side can't be losing members ... who's going to make cookies for the meetings?

Great news! I went to the gym tonight, and the Three Stooges have returned ... and they've added two others. They must be putting something good in the water at the Stooge house. So, now I have to think of a new name. Stooges +2 doesn't really cut it, and I'm not sure Stooges is good enough for these dopes. Since there's 5 of them, I thought about the Backstreet Boys, but they're women, so that won't work. If I wanted to be really cruel, I'd call them Paris Hilton and 4 Paris Hilton clones, but that's kinda evil. Maybe I'll go with the Spice Girlss. Yeah, I know there were only 4 (I think), but I added the extra S.

Haha! The hot neighbor broke down and watched Napoleon Dynamite tonight and hated it. This is our text conversation to date:

She: Stupid movie!
Me: Tina! Come get some ham!
She: So not funny
Me: C'mon, Napoleon - gimme some of your tots!

'Course, tomorrow, I've GOT to send her the Napoleon Dynamite sound page. This could be entertainment for weeks, people.

Tonight, I played my virtual "Reunion Concert", in which I go home and play all of the 80s tunes I know on the guitar in front of thousands of people I know. It'll never, ever happen, because I have the worst voice in the history of music, but it's fun to pretend. No, I don't dress up for this, dorknerd. Here's the playlist:

Cuts Like A Knife - Bryan Adams
On The Dark Side - John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band (it's just fun to say!)
Shame On The Moon - Bob Seger
Sweet Sixteen - Billy Idol
Tiny Dancer - Elton John
Lullaby - The Cure (no one would know the song, but it's a favorite of mine)
Pink Houses - John Mellencamp

Needless to say, I rocked the house, got everyone to sing along, ended with a cool encore, and got a standing O. I even practiced telling people to put their hands together and did a "call and refrain" section in Cuts Like A Knife ... you know, the Na Na part. Yes, I'm a dorknerd.

I love Fiona, as I've noted before, but when I listen to her, it doesn't matter what mood I'm in, it'll get darker. I could win the lottery, put on Fiona, and I'd start bitching about the taxes. Ah well, I'd still do her - dark li'l vixen that she is. Ha!

Man. From the "this used to be funny and now it's creepy" category, I give you the chickenhawk. Not sure how many of you remember the chickenhawk from the Bugs Bunny cartoons, but that was one funny li'l dude. There are few things I enjoy saying more than "I'm a chickenhawk!", in that tough little voice of his. So, for whatever reason, he popped into my head today. When I went to google to see if I could find a picture, I found out that chickenhawk is also a name for a pedophile that preys on young boys. Swell. What's going to be ruined next, Wile E. Coyote? Mr. Greenjeans? Pez?

A'ight, to the weekend for a fairly quick recap. Here's a pretty basic rule I learned on Friday - if a bar has a 2 for 1 drink special, don't have Jack (that would be me) show up before everyone else to get a head start on drinking. By the time my friends showed up, I was seeing double - wait, the drinks were 2 for 1 - I guess I was seeing quadruple. Anyway. The rest of the night was a mass of stupidity and strangeness, the likes of which I can hardly remember ... which I think is a good thing in this case. I may have offended half of the spin instructors at my gym, though, so I've got that going for me.

Saturday, much better. Hit the gym to sweat out the junk, then I crashed the Men's Wearhouse for some duds.

An aside - I like to call this place the Men Swearhouse, and then cuss. You know - I'm going to the Men Swearhouse, so's I can swear, damnit to hell. Yes, I'm a fool.

The key reason for going to the MW was to get my DC uniform, but I also needed some work clothes. Well, and those of you that read this blog regularly might want to cover your eyes, I almost bought a striped shirt! If they had it in my size, I would've been wearing it on Saturday night, and I might go back and get it this weekend. As it was, the saleslady picked out quite an ensemble for me, and I looked damned hot, if I indeed say so myself. Naturally, every time I walked into a joint that night, I ran the Saturday Night Fever music in my head.

We went to a birthday dinner party for a friend, and one of the guys rented a limo for transport. That was probably the highlight of the night, not just because of the limo, but because of people's reactions when you get out of it.

"Hey, a limo! Wonder what famous person is coming out [then I pop out] ... who the hell is that guy?" Heh.

Sunday was recovery day, and one of my favorite movies just happened to be showing - Dazed and Confused. It's a weird thing - it's not a great movie in any way, but I love it, and I always get a little sad at the end because it reminds me of high school. If you haven't seen it, check it out - for the ladies, Matthew McConaughey is in it, for the guys, a number of hotties. Lots of drug references, partying, 70s music, and some good comedy. What's not to like?

Here's a real fun thing. I sleep with my windows open, even when it's this hot (I turn on the A/C with the windows open - more brilliance), and one of my neighbors has this alarm clock that beeps and doesn't go off. The thing is still going when I leave for work. This same thing happened last year for about a month, and it's more annoying than sitting between Kathy Griffin and Carrot Top for a week. Problem is, I can't seem to figure out which house it is coming from, so I just have to deal. Fun!

Hit Sam's Club yesterday as well, for my quarterly fill of huge quantities of all things meat. My favorite line in this joint, which I seem to hear all the time: "That's not a bad price!". It never fails. I'll look up, and someone will be staring at a case of marshmallow fluff, or a gallon of underwear or something along those lines. Yeah!

Funny note ... well, to me, at least. Was checking this online dating site, and this lady had a profile up with this title: "I am a one man women". Women, eh? Hmm. I have so many bad thoughts about that one, I'm just going to let it pass.

I've been suckered! Bamboozled! Schnozzled! Fellatioed! Wait, not that last one. Anyway, here's the story. My boy from DC calls me last week to invite me to a birthday party for a friend in DC this coming weekend. Hey, birthday party to me at this age means drinking, drinking, dancing, talking to women, drinking, and talking to women, right?

Nein!

Well, actually, all of those things may happen, but I'm going to have to do it in my DC uniform. For those of you that ain't seen me live (and it's quite a sight ... women and men both faint away as I strut down the street John Travolta style), I'm pretty much a casual clothes wearer. You know, shorts, jeans, Gap T-shirts, man necklace ... standard stuff. Well, unless I'm at work, in which case I have to wear a noose ... er, a necktie.

So, the DC uniform is pretty damned close to a striped shirt outfit. In fact, if I were to show up in a striped shirt, I'd fit right in. Cripes, I'm heading into enemy territory! Not only that, but I gave away pretty much all my pants that aren't work clothes to Goodwill, so now I'm going to have to go buy pants just to go to a birthday party. Mofo!

Yeah, I can complain more, g'damnit. Watch me.

I found out another one of the hot women from the gym is married. Saw her in the grocery store, and she was wearing her ring, which she doesn't wear at the gym. Cue the "Another One Bites The Dust" music! Eh, she was probably high maintenance anyway. I can rationalize anything!

Damn, it feels good to be a gangsta. How's that for confusing?

Cats don't dig it when you try to make them jam to "Groove Is In The Heart".

Survivor returns tomorrow, and rumor is that Steph is back on the show. Now, if ya'll were paying attention last year, you'll know that I had a major crush on Steph ... at least until she showed up at the reunion show hooked out with enough makeup to make a drag queen proud. Silly Steph.

I just spent two hours at war with the cat hair in my house. Guess who won? I have most of the windows open in my house, since I'm praying that sometime this year the humidity is going to drop below 198%, so I generally sweat like Michael Jackson at a PTA meeting when I'm cleaning the house. Well, as if that isn't enough, I also manage to get cat hair stuck to me, since it's just flying around in the air. It's fabulous. I end up looking like Bigfoot with a bad haircut.

Don't get me started on Bigfoot, either. If I haven't shared that story, I'm going to have to in the near future. The hot neighbor got a big kick out of how big of a pansy I was as a kid. Good thing she's hot, or I'd ... well, I wouldn't do anything, but I sure could come up with some real serious idle threats. I'm tough like that.

The spiderman is having me for dinner tonight ... so I'd better split. If ya don't know, ask The Cure.

It's good to go home, and it's good to be home. Yeah, that makes little sense to you, but it's perfectly logical to me - I went home to Indiana this weekend, where I grew up, and I'm back in my town now. Took a nice ride along the water tonight at sunset. Venus is still chillin' high and mighty in the sky, nice cool breeze, another fantastic sunset, and I had a little Coldplay "High Speed" on the iPod. Sat on a bench by the Bay and just took in my city for a bit. Tremendous stuff.

Ok, before I get into this noise, let's just get something out of the way right now. I went to my 20th year high school reunion this weekend, so all of you yahoos can get your old guy jokes out of the way up front. I'll wait. Oh yeah, that one was REAL funny. Ok, ya'll done? Swell. Let's move forward.

Got to my gate about an hour before my flight. Never fails in DC - you plan for traffic, and there's none. You don't plan for traffic, megajam! Friggin' DC. So, I'm at the gate, and the dude doing the PA thing is the World's Most Obnoxious PA Guy in the History of the Free World. It was the most amazing thing I've ever heard. If you strapped down Richard Simmons and force fed him ephedra for about an hour, you'd be fairly close to this guy's level of excitement. Sorta disturbing in a way.

Our flight was delayed because they "couldn't find the crew." Magnifique! I was mega inspired to get on the plane and fly after the were "found".

Upon arrival, I was picked up by my lovely friend Karen. Karen comes from a large family of beautiful Italian women, and she takes an odd sort of pleasure in getting me into trouble. Let's just say that I'm not to be trusted around flowery centerpieces, because Karen uses her magical Italian hotness powers to get me to eat them. Hey, it's ruffage - back off!

Probably not the best person to be picking an idiot like me up at the airport, but I'm all growed up now! Riiight. A coupla margaritas later, and I'm already buzzed. This is all of 20 minutes into the trip ... we hadn't even left the friggin' airport! My liver quietly saluted me on my fine start to the weekend by punching my pancreas.

We spent Friday night at a tailgate before the homecoming football game and then at a local bar. Notes:

- Technically, you aren't supposed to have alcohol at this joint, but our class doesn't believe in being technical. At one point, our vice principal walked over. Now, he's a big dude, and a bit scary in a number of ways, and here I am filling my "diet coke" up with a little of the leaded. I regressed back to being a squirrely teenager in about 1.2 seconds. I'm still trying to figure out how I wasn't sitting in the principal's office on Monday morning. Odd.

- The ol' high sign we used to use in high school is still the same. When it was time to cut out of some joint, we'd give each other the raised eyebrow and head nod, and then there'd be this mass exodus of certain people. Did the exact same thing on Friday, and it still worked. Double odd.

- We had about 10 of us or so at a local place for drinks after the game. The tab? $106!? For everyone!? I'm drinking there EVERY weekend! I also noticed that they charged me $11 for my 3 cap'n n cokes. Um, I ain't no math major, but $11/3 = $3.666666666 ... what would have happened if I ordered one? I'd imagine someone's head may have exploded.

Saturday was a full day affair of a picnic, bowling, and then a dinner that night. I'm incredibly proud of myself. I managed not to:

1) Sing
2) Make a fool of myself dancing
3) Sing while making a fool of myself dancing
4) Not pick up any married chicks

Lemme tell you ... Lithium does wonders in these situations. The married chick thing was actually a concern - I had no less than 5 women warn me of that before I even left.

After the dinner, one of my good friends from home opened up the bowling alley bar for us for some late night foolishness. Now, I got a ride there with this unbelievably hot married woman from our class ... she's one of those women that has you kicking yourself double for not dating her in high school, and I actually did date her for about 2 days after the 5 year reunion. More proof that I'm an idiot, as if it's needed. Anyway, so we walk into the bar, which is your basic small town bowling alley bar. She orders:

(1) a Cosmopolitan [blank stare from the bartender]
(2) an apple martini [another blank stare]
(3) sighs and orders a rum and pineapple juice, while my buddy and I struggle not to burst out laughing

Every now and then, I stumble into an idea that is simply brilliant. Then there's the "Ladies on the Lap" picture tradition, which tops everything. In essence, one of my friends was sending out some pics from the last reunion, and the majority of the ones with me in them seemed to have a women or women sitting on my lap. Needless to say, this had to be made into a tradition! So, around 2 am, the "Ladies on the Lap" tradition was born. It was kinda like Santa Clause, only with a dirty old man (me) as Santa. It was a brilliant idea until some of my male classmates decided to take part as well. Let's just move on.

One of the dudes in our class is called "Crotch". Don't ask me why ... I'm not sure even Crotch knows. Well, Crotch used to be one of the bigger and tougher guys in our class, and I'm sure he's still tough, but he's shrunk a bit since high school. He also used to wear cowboy boots at all times, but they've since been replaced with sandals. It was kinda odd. Crotch also felt it necessary to tell me I was "dead sexy" about 10 times. Now, I already know I'm dead sexy, but I'm trying to keep it quiet ... I can't have Angelina Jolie stalking me ... again. So, that was a little bit strange. I think he also grabbed my ass at one point.

One young lady, upon finding out I was still single (which in Indiana is similar to being a leper), informed me that she has tons of single females available for set-up purposes. So, I've got that going for me, if I ever get so desperate that I need a 700 mile relationship. Duly noted.

All in all, had a great time as always. It's great to go home and see everyone, but I always get a little melancholy for a few days afterwards. I've got some tremendous friends that I miss a great deal, and getting everyone together like that kinda reminds me of what a great bunch of people they are. Plus, the women in our class are all mega hot, which doesn't hurt, either. Ha! And you thought I was gonna get all sappy. Suckers!

Whew. Well, I survived that one. I can't even do all three nights of a long weekend anymore. I'm wearing myself out after two. I'd chalk it up to age, but since I act like I'm sixteen, I figure that can't be the problem. I spent Sunday night on the couch watching Saturday Night Fever:

"Would ya just watch the hair. Ya know, I spend a long time on my hair and he hit it - he hit my hair. "

Classic.

Friday! Now, I have some very smart friends. When we drink, however, we become complete idiots ... actually, I know a lot of people that can say that. Anyway. We weren't so happy with the amount of booze in our drinks on Friday, so we decided to start ordering doubles. Brilliant! We started at a billiards joint, then ended up at a very cool club - couple of different stories, one floor was a clubby sort thing, one was a bar, and the top deck was open, like a rooftop deck sorta situation.

If there's one thing I've learned, it's that I'm at my best when focusing on one woman. If I try to work more than one situation, fuhgedaboudit - I'm fumbling all over the place. So, I'm talking to a friend of a friend, who is a cutie, when her sister shows up. 'Course, naturally, the sister is about 37% hotter. Figures. I spent most of my time trying to figure out a way to get closer to the sister, without offending the original sister. I'm attempting this after a handful of doubles and there may have been a shot or two thrown in for good measure, so it's pretty much the impossible task. I think at one point, someone recommended that I go for both, which I thought was a stroke of genius. Needless to say, I ended up sleeping with a slice of pizza. Pepperoni, I believe.

Felt fantastic on Saturday morning! I mean, you could've poked me in the eye with a stick for an hour, and I would have felt exactly the same. Yeesh. A long workout and nap later, it was back to go time.

For round 2, which some would call Saturday, it was decided by the hot neighbor that I would be allowed to accompany her and some friends to the Bay Cafe. The Bar Of Cheese, as I like to call it, has this bikini contest every Saturday, and this particular Saturday was the finals.

So, I got myself all gussied up and headed down. Upon arrival, I see a couple of women in skirts that are shorter than ... hmm ... well, I don't even have a good analogy for this, but I had a lot of trouble looking away. As I'm staring at this, I walk right past the hot neighbor. I'm smooth like that.

We grab a couple of drinks, and the place starts to fill up. A couple of the contestants are walking around, and it's pretty clear this is going to be a serious contest, as serious bikini contest go - these women are stunning. I'm there with the HN and her buddy Glenn. We're drinking and I'm getting my shampoo buzz going, when this dude comes over and asks Glenn and I if we'd like to be judges in the contest. I'm not sure it's possible for me to say yes faster.

This might sound a little weird, but I'm not really a big fan of strip clubs. I mean, I go by the Costanza theory of paying for parking, and it works for strip clubs, too - I figure if I apply myself, I should be able to get it for free, ya know? There are a few other reasons I don't like strip clubs, but that's the main one.

Well, this bikini contest was basically like being at a strip club. The only thing missing was the pole, and that's basically what the contestants did - their same routine they'd use in whatever strip club they work at, minus the pole. They did the tap the ass thing to show how firm it is, the pushing of the fake rack together, and the throwing of various clothing at the judges (I still have a lovely T-shirt I was "given" by one of the dancers). You know, all the requisite moves that strippers make ... so they tell me.

I must say, however, that these six women were in unbelievable shape. I basically narrowed it down to four, then made my decision based on the best boob job. Yeah, I'm sure there were other things I should have considered, but it was my first time. Cut me some slack.

So, they crowned the winner, the contestants immediately packed up and split the joint (I'd imagine they all had shifts starting at the local dance clubs), and we headed to some other haunts.

Eventually, and I'm sure you'll be shocked by this, but I ended up at Portside. I'm going out of town next weekend, and I recommended to the bartender there that they just close up, since my business will be off the books. I'd imagine they'll see a big dip in profit, and a large increase in the amount of Cap'n Morgan on hand.

Here's something new - I found that all I have to do upon my trip to the bathroom is say hello to a hot woman, and I'll get a business card. I'm not sure why I haven't tried this technique before, but it worked like a charm. I'm using that from this point on, no doubt.

Portside was AWESOME. Tons of fun people from the gym there, I was hanging out with two lovely ladies, and the tunes ... um, ok, I have no idea what music was playing because I was having too much fun. There was one fairly comical thing that happened, among others. One of the gym girls was bartending (long story, but sometimes they let hot girls from the crowd get behind the bar and tend ... don't ask me), and I asked her if she knew my name. Her response: "I call you 'hottie'." So, I'm thinking of legally changing my name.

The girls dragged me off to Hammerjack's, where we picked up some of their friends that were getting off work, then we went to the late night sushi joint at the Belvedere ... or somewhere around there. I dunno - I just get into someone's vehicle and end up somewhere on these trips. That was pretty much it for Saturday night ... a long wait for a cab later, and I was in bed ... at 5 am.

The rest of the weekend was spent basically in recovery mode. You now, naps on the couch, sleep walking through workouts, snacking ... that sorta thing.

In other general news, I have a few new things that I enjoy saying. I've ranked them according to popularity in my mind:

flank steak - it's just fun to say in general
Bangor Maine - yeah, I giggle like a schoolgirl every time I say it ... yeah, I am an immature child
carrot cake - don't ask why, it's just odd to me
liposuction - the absolutely perfect word for that procedure
dictate - due to an old joke involving Buckwheat
carnitas fajitas - nuttin' better than rhyming in another language

If you haven't heard the song Love Buzz by Nirvana, you must. Right now. Go. I'll wait. I'm not kidding! Go get it!

Ok, now, wasn't that just fantastic? You're welcome.