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.