Hey, it's no secret that I'm no genius. On the other hand, I may be dumb, but I'm not stupid. I've just come to the conclusion that going to bed at 5:30 am, even if you have nothing to do the next day, isn't always a great idea. In fact, it's generally a really, really bad idea, although it seems like pure brilliance at the time.

Guess what time I crashed on Saturday? That's right ... 5:30. We went out to ... aw, hell, I don't know where we went, somewhere in Arlington. I think there might have been some alcohol served along the lines. I also managed not to talk to a single woman all night that I didn't already know. What the hell's up with DC women? I'm thinking of getting a grant to study this phenomenon.

It's time for this blog's edition of Fun With Cats. Ready? This is a basic one. Pet 'em backwards, tail to head, then watch their reaction. Make sure you do it a couple of times, so that their hair gets nice and rumpled. Yup, my cats pretty much hate me sometimes, but I'm the dude with the food, so I can get away with it. Plus, I make up for it later with the magic cat brush, which not only makes them look soooo pretty (and we all know cats must look pretty), it also causes enough static cling to power the car in Back To The Future.

So, I'm trying to drink a lot more water these days. I bought this gallon sized thingy of water at the Royal Farms, which is the finest convenience store around ... well, it's pretty much the only convenience store around, unless liquor stores count as convenience stores, which I don't think they do ... hey, what the hell was I just talking about? Oh, yes, water. So, anyway, I buy this big assed thing, and now I'm one of those dorks who walks around with a gallon of water every day. The cool thing is, a gallon of water is a LOT of liquid. I was looking at it today - I'm thinking that's around 5 bladders of water. Needless to say, I'm in the bathroom all the friggin' time now. I'm thinking of moving my office in there, just to save walkin'.

It gets even more fun. On the weekends, as we all know, I have a tendency to drink. Now, normally, a lot of this water comes out, but when I drink my favorite booze and caffeine combo, it ALL comes out. I think that's why I only go to a few bars anymore ... I have to whiz so much I can't make it to another bar without going. Had to stop in the alley a few weeks ago, cuz I couldn't make it, which is always interesting.

I seem to be writing about whizzing a lot lately. Hmm. There's a theory here somewhere, I just haven't found it yet.

Fun with Office People ... put on trance music, then watch their reactions as they walk by. Most common expression is along the lines of if you were to start calling everyone "Spanky" and smacking them on the ass. In fact, I might have to try that combo.

It's not possible to ask someone if they've seen the movie Snatch without feeling skeevy. That's a proven theory right there. Unless you're Christopher Walken. I'm pretty sure he can get away asking anyone anything, and it's just going to sound scary.

Have I mentioned that I'm going back to Vegas in ... mmm ... 13 days? Well, I am. So there. Just got an email with the specifics on the suites will be in at Mandalay Bay. Great googily moogily! I have a feeling this might be a whole lot more fun than last time. As a bonus, I should be getting my tax refund back just before I leave. Nice! I figure as long as I don't come back all sticky, I should be ok ... I'll let you use your imagination on that one.

If you don't drink caffeine much, drinking a diet Mountain Dew is fairly close to doing cocaine. Just an FYI.

Ok, I'll admit it - Survivor has jumped the shark. As if that isn't bad enough, there's zero eye candy this time around. Eesh.

Plan for the weekend - drinkin'. I might get a sub from Quizno's at some point. Yup, that's pretty much it. Thanks for playin'.

Some yutz at the gym stole my jump rope. I hide it behind this cabinet, and it was gone yesterday, and it wasn't at the Lost and Found. I mean, c'mon now people! Unless you're tying up your girlfriend with it for fun sex, that's totally uncool.

Woo. This could either be a short blog, a long blog, or something in between. I'm a tad annoyed right now, it's 3:16 am on a Friday night, and I'm alone ... what the hell do people do when they're alone on a weekend night? Add on the fact that I'm drunk and can't type so well. A'ight, everybody calm down and let's approach this from the side entrance.

Ok, first, the fun stuff. So, I'm at the office on Wednesday, we go to lunch, and on the way back in, I hit the bathroom. I'm in a pretty good mood, so I'm dancing at the urinal while I'm whizzing. Hey, what can I say ... I'm a good dancer in front of a urinal. Apparently, dancing causing those dumbass mofo sensor things to go off in the urinal, so I get showered while whizzing. I know a good percentage of you readers aren't men so I'll give you this tip ... showering on my Johnson isn't going to help me pee faster or more efficiently. I think I came pretty close on spelling efficiently right, too. E-ffi-cient-ly. So there. Mo-ji-to, for the Family Guy fans.

As if that's not enough, it gets better! Hold on to your hats! The shower finally subsides, and I'm still going. What can I say, I have a huge bladder, which in no way corresponds to the size of ... well, you know what, let's just continue on. So, I notice that the urinal cake is all broken up, and I bend down to check out why. I quickly realize that I'm whizzing right ... on ... my ... tie. Fabulous.

Also, I watched a fascinating documentary this week - Grizzly Man, which is the story of Timothy Treadwell, who is a dude who decided to live with bears. I ran through an large range of emotions watching this flick. It's pretty good stuff. I also managed to basically throw $5 in the harbor when I rented the DVD, then realized they're showing the movie on Discovery Channel next week. Clinkers!

Ok, so that's the perfect segueway to tonight's friggin' fiasco. The early part was great fun. We started after work at the Red Maple happy hour. Now, my first manifesto when it comes to restaurants is to not offend or piss of the waiter/waitress in any way, shape, or manner. Plus, there's the added bonus that every time I've been to this joint, I've had sucky ass mofo service. Well, tonight, we get a really good waiter, and I manage, on drink #2, to call him "waitress". Yup, I'm a genius! Needless to say, I get my bill, and every single drink and food item was neatly accounted for, with a 20% gratuity added on. Nice!

An aside. When I went on that sucky loner trip to Vegas, on the flight out, I spilled a drink right in my crotch. If there was ever an omen, that was one. Well, calling a waiter "waitress" should've been a sign tonight. Damnit. Note to self ... read signs!

Anyway. So, we split the happy hour ...

Haha! Wait! My work friend Lauren thought she would cruise through this blog. Nein! Lauren's this li'l chick that's quite the good drinker, but sometimes has eyes are bigger than her stomach. Drinkwise. Ok, I hope you're sorta following along at this point. Anyway, she told my boy JB that she could drink 5 apple martinis tonight. Well, she drank all 5. Last time I saw her, I was yelling out the window to JB to hold her hair back while she hurled. Yeah. Good times, baby.

Anyway. So, we split the HH and head down to Fed Hill. We stopped in this joint that used to be Bandaloop's. They really should change the name of that joint to something more appropriate now. I'm thinking something like "127 guys and 14 girls" or "Men Only, But A Few Chicks Allowed" would be about right. Talk about your man bars. Jeez o pete. Needless to say, I was hating life.

Break time. Ok, it's no secret that I love women. However, there is the occassional woman or two that I meet that are incredibly dopey, in a sweet little fuzzy girly sorta way. Let's break out two examples:

#1 ... This hot thing named ... shoot ... you know, I actually remembered her name when she introduced herself, and she didn't remember mine. Kathy! Ha! Ok, so, anyway, Kathy and I are talking at ... um ... what'd I call that joint? Oh yeah, "127 guys and 14 girls". Let's just go with 127-14 for shorts. So, I'm with a group of friends that want to go back to Canton just as I meet Kathy. I immediately try for the number, explaining that we're splitting, and I don't hang out in Fed Hill. Strike one.

Now, we get delayed because a number of members get hung up in the bathroom. It's clear that Kathy digs me. I mean, when a woman is talking about something and patting you right on the chest, that's a pretty good sign. I've offered to give Kathy and her friend a ride to Canton, so's I can get to know Kathy better, either on the ride or in Canton. They mull over it. Yeah, mull. Who doesn't enjoy a good mull? Next thing I know, they're splittin'. Here comes the fun.

As they're splittin', her friend reaches back, shakes my hand, and says "You're passing up a good thing" and nods to Kathy. Uhhhhhhh. So, I try to think quickly, which is pretty much impossible on drink #9 ... or whatever drink it was. I ask where they're going, I get a shrug from secondary woman, and they split. So, I'm standing there, absolutely dumbfounded by this move. Dumb. Founded. It's no secret I'm dumb, but toss in a "founded" and we're in another world. I mean, I guess Kathy, who was pretty much in the other room when her friend dropped the bomb, thought I should come running through the bar to catch her. I dare say, that's brilliant thinking!

Let's go to #2! Hey, there's more in the dumbfounded category! So, we hit Canton, and we go to Gallagher's. Now, this joint is a bar for lesbian type women, which is really a dumb bar for me to go to, but I'm generally up for something if it involves women ... even if they are unattainable. As luck would have it, there's this hottie tending bar at Gallagher's. I'm also lucky enough to be in a group with someone who knows the scoop, and I get the following info:

1) She's straight
2) She's hot ... ok, I figured that out for myself
3) She's interested in me

I figure I'm 3 for 3. Not only that, but after about 30 minutes of haggling, I manage to weasel myself into a bar seat and I'm allowed to stay until after the bar closes because she digs me. Cool. She comes over, we do a shot or two of fun stuff together, we start discussing future plans (ok, this is pretty short term ... future plans being what's going to happen before the sun comes up), and things are going well.

So, the friends that brought me to the joint split. Now, I've discussed the bartender hookup before. It's rough for a number of reasons, but I figure I've got the usual ones covered:

1) The bartender's gay ... yup, already got that one checked off ... she's straight
2) She's not interested and is only flirting for tips ... yah, checked that one off by virtue of my friend who got the lowdown on her
3) In order to hook up with this woman, you're going to have to wait an inordinate amount of time until they close up the bar

The amazing thing is, I cover #3 early on. I mean, we're good to go, people ... it's just a matter of time. As I'm waiting to take her home, I get to deal with a number of fun things ... mopping of the floor, dumb late night drunk people hatin' on yuppies ... at one point, I even carry over some empty bottles to speed up the process.

Here's the beauty ... as she's putting on her coat to split, she decides to tell me that she doesn't know me that well, she's tired, and she's not into hanging out. Ooh, I love those last second decisions, especially when I've been sitting around like a yutz for a good 90+ minutes, and you've given nothing but good signals. I walked out and shredded her phone number right in the parking lot. Ok, it was a petty move, but it felt pretty good to me at the time.

So, as I'm sure Timothy Treadwell said at one point ... women ... can't live with 'em, let's go live with bears.

Luckily, it's 4 am, and one of the drinks we did together was a Red Bull and vodka. I can't wait to crash ... on Sunday evening. Stupid caffeine!

It's off to DC tonight. Needless to say, I won't be attempting any silly stunts like that.

Ok, ladies, here's a sure fire way to get me to talk on you when I'm out. Be petite, hot, drunk, and grab my ass. That method worked like a charm for some li'l darlin' in Portside on Saturday. 'Course, she then proceeded to tell me that she had a boyfriend. In the WTF? category, that baby is in the top 2, right behind drive in liquor stores.

As if it couldn't get worse than that, it did. Her sister came over, and she was even hotter ... and single. I think I put a list of the impossible pickup situations a number of blogs back. Well, I think I left out hitting on the hotter sister after you've already hit on the other sister and failed. That would be relatively high on the impossible list, right behind the Olsen twins going to an all-you-can-eat buffet and Angelina dumping Brad to come hang with me.

I actually stayed in on Friday (gasp!) and watched Corpse Bride. Man, I absolutely loved that movie. I liked it so much, I woke up on Saturday and watched it again. Don't even start! I do understand that I have too much time on my hands ... which is why I've started playing The Sims again.

If you haven't played The Sims ... well, it's kinda dumb. Basically, it's a video game where you create characters and build little lives for them. I got sorta hooked on it a few years ago, and then I realized that I could be building my own life instead of these dumb li'l characters on a computer screen. Well, I'm sorta hooked again, although not as bad. Now, I'm just doing silly things. F'rinstance, I invited this dude and his wife over, starting flirting with her, and then proposed to her ... and it worked! In Sims Land, I'm now a bigamist. Dag ... I should've named my character Joseph Smith. That's a Mormon joke for those that get Mormons.

Frizzle! I forgot to tell ya'll about The Mormon at Deep Creek! First of all, I don't think she liked me much. She was likely one of the people we kept up on Friday night with our rock concert/drunk singalong thingy. So, anyway, I'm being hecka obnoxious on Saturday afternoon, and she's sitting on the couch reading some book about ... um ... Mormons ... or how to not have any fun on a Friday or ... hell, I dunno what she was reading. Anyway, I kept bugging her, and I decided that her name was going to be The Mormon for the rest of the weekend, complete with capital letters like that. She REALLY didn't like me after that, but it's fun to still think about it.

And for you Mormons out there who are offended, I went to my junior prom with a Mormon. Shockingly enough, I did not get lucky.

Back to the idiocy. Another bonus at Portside ... the woman I hooked up with a few weeks back who conveniently forgot to tell me she had a boyfriend was there ... with the boyfriend! Talk about your awkward situations, especially considering that he was wearing a shirt that would've looked good on a clown. Actually, I played it pretty cool, probably because I was on my 23rd drink or so.

One final bonus was Miss Cherie showing up at her usual time of sometime past midnight. Actually, according to my vision at the time, there were 3 of her, but I'm pretty sure she's only one woman. She also managed not to get sick on anyone, too. Ha! I'm gonna get punched for that one. The rest of the night was spent frolicking around in Brewer's Hill with someone who has a cool house ... except that it really needs a couple of felines in it. Felines, people, are the key to serenity. Hey, I just made that up!

I caused some woman to bust out laughing at the gym the other night. No, I didn't drop my shorts ... I was jumping rope in this corner area when the yoga class let out. Now, these yoga folks all use those bouncy balls which seem to be all the rage in the gym these days.

A quick aside ... every time I look at these balls, I think of those things we had as kids which looked like a fat donkey. It was a big bouncy ball with a donkey head and ears. You grabbed the ears, sat on it, and went to town in Bounce Land. Remember those? Ok, so I'm the only one that remembers those things. Fine. Punks.

Anyway, so she's the first out of the room and she comes walking towards me. A couple of people follow her out, and I say "Oh no, here come the balls." I thought she was going to pop a hernia, she was laughing so hard. I still don't really get what was so funny.

How disturbing is it that on Monday, I was planning what I was going to wear out this weekend?

I watched this show on MTV tonight about these three different dudes that were doing steroids for different reasons. Lemme tell ya one thing ... if I ever get to the point where one of my buddies is poking me in the bare ass with a needle just so's I can win a strip contest at a club ... yeah. I think I'm going to stick with drinking and having hot women with boyfriends feel me up when I'm not looking. It's a lot less painful, and there's no backne.

Fun with cats. I'm walking by the litter box today, and I notice Squirrely Boy in there taking a whiz. So, I decide to have a little fun. I squat down and start patting him on the head. Lemme tell ya ... I've seen some hilarious looks on the faces of these two idiots, but this one took the cake. It was one of those half-closed eye ones ... you know, the "I can't wait to pee in your bed and I'm going to ENJOY it" looks. Classic.

He didn't seem to have any problem continuing to go, though, which was pretty impressive. Ask any guy and he'll tell ya - if you start messing with us in mid-whiz, it's hard to keep concentration.

Even more fun ... I went to Petsmart, and I finally found these catnip bubble things. They're basically like those bubbles you could blow as a kid, but catnip style. Well, and I'm sure you'll be shocked by this, Batman is afraid of them. He's afraid of friggin' bubbles! It's official ... I have the world's biggest pansy cat. Yes, yes, hold all of the "he takes after his owner" jokes for the end of the blog, please.

Text message of the month follows:

U knew this was coming dum dum ... we will have fun. dumped small penis guy. did not go out with stripperman got weirded out. and job is crazy jealous of u

Hmm ... and people say I send strange text messages! Actually, I do. Moving on ...

A tip ... Janie's Got A Gun is really not a very good song to be singing out loud around people. Trust me on that one. It didn't really hit me until after the 5th strange look or so.

I've been contemplating sitting down when I take a whiz. Yeah, yeah, I know, it's un-American and anti-boy and gay-ish and I'll lose my Man Card and whatnot, but I have a couple of logical reasons for it:

1) Less cleanup when I have to hose down the bathroom
2) I can get a lot more paperwork done ... you know, reading my bills, writing letters, doing my taxes, staring at my autographed picture of Denise Austin
3) It's a lot easier when really drunk ... I wouldn't have to do the ol' put my hand on the wall to steady myself thing
4) ... I'm working on a #4 and #5 ... I figure I need at least 5 to legally do this

Some older gent in the waiting room told me I'm a really good typer. I haven't the slightest idea how to respond to that. I just nodded and smiled at him and pretended I couldn't speak. I'm suddenly a mute!

Have I mentioned that the Steelers are World Champions? Ok, just checkin'.

The annoying hot gym girl and I are becoming quite the pals. We had a short discussion yesterday about her drink. She had one of those Power/Energy/Hyper/Yeehah drinks and she was surprised that there was caffeine in it. Um ... hello? She also has some sort of Carribean sorta sounding accent. I'm not sure if that's a plus or not, but I do enjoy saying JAMAICA MON! in a ridiculous Jamaican accent. Try it out. It's fun.

It's quite possible that I'm going to do nuttin' tonight but watch movies. I'm pretty sure hell is getting chilly right now, but it's true. 'Course, we all know what that means ... look out for Hurricane Me tomorrow night! Woot!

Yumma humma! That there was a weekend, people. Let's begin, shall we?

Friday. I pick up my friend Lori at the airport. She's flown in all the way from Minnesota to drink. Ok, ok, she was visiting friends as well, but we all have our priorities in life. I pick her up with the mini bar in action - a 1.75 of the good Captain, and a 2 liter each of regular and Diet Coke. Pretty good ratio there if you ask me. See, problem here is that I lost a bet to Lori when I was in Minnesota, so I have to make her drinks for her the ... entire ... weekend. Cripes.

We head off to Frederick to pick up other friends. The beauty of this pick up is that I will no longer be driving, so I can put full attention on my drinking. Hey, we all know that it's important for me to concentrate. So, by the time we arrive at Deep Creek, 4 of the 5 of us are pretty well sacked. Sacked in a good way, but sacked. Drunk. Hammered. Waffled. Plastered. You get the idea.

Within 5 minutes of arrival, I manage to pull off the smartest move in the history of ... uh ... moves. I negotiate my way into sleeping in a room with 5 women. No boys, just 5 women. I mean, I couldn't be in a better situation if I was making out with Angelina and holding a full Pez dispenser. The only drawback is that I'm sleeping in the closet, but there's 48 hours to fix that.

The night seemed to go by in a really fast blur after that. I remember hitting the hot tub for a bit, hitting the pool, lots of drinks, and a shot or two ... uh, or four. Six? Hmm. 'Round about 3 or 4 am or so, I break out the guitar. It's time to play Drunken Rock Star! Fortunately, I have a handful of willing participants, and the living room arena is right dead center in the middle of the house. Lemme tell ya, the rest of the house, that being them there folks unfortunate enough to be trying to sleep ... loved us! I heard this sorta comment at least 5 times the next day: "Uh, hey, how about tonight ya'll do that in the pool area?" Classic.

We were quite the singers, though, lemme tell ya. At one point, I played "I've Been Everywhere" by Johnny Cash, and we made up our own cities. You know, Glen Burnie, Baltimore, Frederick, Columbia, Owings Mills, etc. All sung slightly off key and a tad off beat. We also had a bit of trouble remembering the words to the songs, so we sorta made up our own lyrics.

At around 4:30 or so, my buddy Steve decides he needs to take a few laps in the pool. A bit of an odd idea ... even more odd when you factor in that he decides to do it (1) in the dark and (2) with his beer. 'Atta boy!

By the time 6 am rolls around, I'm still wide awake and the only person left standing ... well, I'm sorta slumped over on the couch, but I'm still awake. Now, my friend Jim has a number of egg casseroles he's prepared for breakfast. Hey, in my world, 6 am is a good friggin' time for breakfast. So, I pop one in the oven, and 30 minutes later, it's feast time. The next day, I wake up to find out that Jim ended up tossing the rest of the thing because he didn't know how long it had been out. Brilliant! We're off to a good start to the weekend!

Day 2. I get a full 3 hours of kip, and I'm woken up by one of my roommates, who decides to jump me in the closet. Nice! Unfortunately, I was lying on my stomach at the time, but a jump is a jump! She invites me up to the bed, where I get to crash between two women. I pretty much run the gamut on threesome jokes, and try in vain to get visual evidence of the situation, to no avail.

I roll out of bed a little later, watch both the Hoosiers and Terps lose, jump some rope, and then it's time to work the shampoo buzz. Night 2 is a little bit crazier, as a number of people used the "saving up for Saturday night" strategy ... also known as the Pansy Partier Strategy, or the PPS. I get introduced to a darlin' little Asian woman named I-Fong. No joke, that's her name - I even made her spell it. Of course, I immediately call her iPod, which earns me a punch in the chest. I, in turn, immediately fill her glass up to the top.

The group begins playing Beer Pong. Somehow, I end up being the "owner" for Team Estrogen, which is comprised of 3 women and my friend Jim. Now, Jim's not a woman, but he's also no dummy - unlike most of my single male friends in attendance, he's smart enough to get on a team with women. As owner, I have no duties other than to sit next to the table, watch the women play the game, and drink. I'm not sure life gets any better.

The beer pong eventually breaks down into a game of "I Never". The highlight ... one of the participants does "I've never slept with 3 women in the same day". We all kinda scratch our heads, thinking he's set the bar a tad high ... until my friend Steve drinks. I immediately give him a standing ovation.

The rest of the night is the usual nonsense, although the guitar manages not to make an appearance. I manage to crash at a normal hour this time ... 3 am ... and I manage to get an invite into the bed before the sun comes up. I'm very proud. All in all, another fine Deep Creek trip.

In other news, tonight, I managed to actually talk to the annoying woman in the gym who's also the hottest woman I've ever seen live. Now, some people use suave lines in this situation ... for example, "what are you doing without a date on Valentine's Day?" ... you know, something smooth like that. Me? Yeah, right. She's at the water fountain, I walk up, and say "what, are you gonna drink all the water?" Smooth as sandpaper, baby!

She did go on a semi-ramble about how she usually has a water bottle, and she forgot it, and she's really thirsty and ... well, I kinda lost interest after that. Still hot, though.

If you don't already know, I'm back to being friends with the Playboy Channel. Eh, it's not like we ever really had a falling out, I just wanted to check out HBO for a bit. I've mentioned this before, but the movie descriptions never fail to crack me up. Tonight there's ... eh, some movie ... I dunno the title, but the description is "Curvaceous beauties reveal flesh". Really? Flesh? On a porn channel? Imagine that!

Ok, in the "I'm an idiot" category (which seems to be a pretty big one), I started taking a fat burner today for funs. I'm pretty happy with how I look physically, but I'm at a bit of a plateau with respect to my definition, and want to get a bit more cut. Anyway, so on the day I start taking it, I have:

- 2 cookies
- a brownie
- a ton of tortilla chips
- chicken parmesan
- linguine

Plus, the hot neighbor left me a Valentine's goodie bag with Hershey's kisses, which I immediately devour. She also leaves me another Pez dispenser and refills. Hmm ... I feel another cavity in my future!

Yup, I'm a friggin' genius.

Ok, I've had this jingle in my head for about a month now. Ready? Warning: this is so incredibly stupid ...

For nuts who are nuts about nuts
We're nuts about Payday (nuts about Payday)
For nuts who are nuts about nuts
We're talking 'bout Payday (sqwuakin' 'bout Payday)

I also can't spell squak ... sqwuak ... well, you see what happened there. If you're wondering what that is, well, you're too friggin' young to read this blog! Heh. Ok, maybe not. That's an old Payday commercial, as in the candy bar. Yup, I'm starting to scare myself.

Hey, anyone ever have the co-worker that has to work on the weekends? Well, I've figured out how to keep them in the fun. Go visit them at work! Only problem is, I'm a computer geek in the Emergency Department at a hospital. Yeah. Not the best of ideas to go visiting there on a weekend, especially after a full day of drinking.

Well, screw that, that's exactly what I did!

Ok, so I didn't do anything to myself, and I got some SERIOUS chivalry points. I'm talking to a young lass in the usual bar (say it together now ... Portside! ... the finest bar in the history of ... um ... bars), and she stopped and winced. I figured it was something I said (I had been drinking since 1) but NO! She decided the best way to get me to stop bothering her was to step on a beer bottle.

Clearly, she's never met me when drunk before. Ha! So, I suggested we step outside to check out the cut ... cuz I'm smooth like that, doncha know. We get outside, and I realize there's blood all over the step ... and it's coming from her foot. Um, not good. Not good at all, Paul. The bouncer is kind enough to bring out a huge stack of napkins, and after having some fun with the local police, it's off to the hospital in an ambulance.

Long, silly story short, she got 4 stitches in her foot, her friend was pretty much drunk and passed out in the waiting room, so I got to hold her hand the whole time. Hey, dudes ... a tip ... if you get her blood on your hands when trying to stop a cut on her foot, she'll feel obligated to give you her phone number. And, if you're real smooth or she's real drunk ... or both ... maybe a kiss or two.

I'm off to Deep Creek for the weekend with a large group of folks. There may be a story or two or five outta this trip. Adios!

A'ight, so I went to Minnesota this weekend to visit a friend in the Twin Cities. Why do they call them the Twin Cities? I haven't the slightest. I learned very little about the local culture except that they get a buttload of snow. My friend Lori mentioned that they got 38 inches one year. 38 mofo inches! That's up to my boobs! That's up to Pam Anderson's boobs! That's up to Angelina's boobs!

...
...
...

Sorry ... dazed off for a second there. Anyway, so I flew out with my buddy Jim. As soon as the drink cart showed it's face, we started throwing drinks into our faces. I also learned that you may or may not tip flight attendents. That was an odd convo. After shot #4 of Skyy vodka, which I was drinking with Mountain Dew ...

Hmm ... an aside. See, when on a plane, they never have the good Captain, so I have to get creative with drinks. I knew that I (1) needed caffeine, (2) wanted some hefty booze, (3) didn't want to hurl and (4) wanted enough so that the flight attendant would start to look good. I have visions of joining the Mile High Club someday, although I've never really understood how it's possible in those tiny ant-ass bathrooms. Yes, I did just write ant-ass.

Now, my choices are:

Jack Daniels ... makes me angry. I liken it to having bees in my head.
Some crappy brand of gin
Canadian Club ... other than bacon and SCTV, Canadian things make me nervous
Bacardi Rum ... the white label ... couldn't suck more if it was Tom Cruise's acting ability

Hence, Skyy vodka and the Dew. Yeah, it sounds kinda nasty, but it worked like a charm. So, by #4, I'm feeling pretty good, and I decide to ask the flight attendant if we're supposed to be tipping her. Her response:

Well, we're flight ATTENDANTS, so we are here to ATTEND to your needs.

She then walked off. I'm still puzzled over that one, and I wasn't drunk enough to suggest that my needs at the present time involved joining a certain club, and it wasn't the Canadian one. Unfortunately, the rest of the drinking time, we were served by a bald man with a mustache wearing a short sleeved shirt, so I still don't have my answer ... or my non-Canadian Club membership.

Another aside. I remember in the 70s and 80s, when stewardesses were the hottest things alive. I mean, scoring with a stewardess was the equivalent to scoring with a model. What the hey happened? Is it now a requirement that each flight have as their flight attendants: (1) a fugly dude, (2) a woman who may or may not be wearing a wig and (3) Janet Reno? Dag.

So, we come off the flight good n frizzy. Lori picks us up with her friend AJ, and we're off to the bars. The rest of the night is fairly foggy. I remember a bar, another bar, another bar, a stop at a place called Sexworld (which is a 4 story joint of nuttin' by sex stuff ... so, in essence, my Eden), another bar, etc. I remember a lot of drinks, "accidently" elbowing a hot girl in the boob (I'm lucky I'm a charming drunk, or I'd probably be dead by now), and avoiding food because I "had tonight's meal right in my glass." I also explained in a loud voice to a number of people that guys passing by go behind and girls passing by go in front. I guess the bar was pretty crowded, but that's pretty much a rule that I have in crowded bars. Oof.

Now, AJ and I have met before, and we've had a couple of close calls in the hook up category, but it's never actually happened. Kinda like Paris Hilton almost making sense when she talks. Welp, you can scratch the almost off of that one now - the hook up with AJ, not Paris making sense. I was informed by Jim on the plane that AJ was looking forward to seeing me and, well, I have a real problem with aggressive women who also happen to be attractive. It also doesn't help if you mix in a couple dozen drinks on top. Or it does help. I just confused myself. Moving on!

I wake up the next morning, and I have the World's Biggest Hangover. I mean, I still can't believe my eyeballs weren't bleeding, this baby was so bad. I talk Lori into taking me to the gym, and I spent the entire hour in there trying not to toss cookies. Ever had a hangover where it's dark just above your eyes? Yeah.

So, we run around for a bit. I get some food, and I try to drink. I mean, if ever I needed a shampoo buzz, this was the time. I'm drinking ... and drinking ... and drinking ... and ... nuttin'. I mean, not a slurred word, not a bit of Ted Kennedy action, zippo. Bupkis. Finally, around 9, I give up and decide to be the driver.

So, the other three in the group are doing fine. We go to this bar where you drink beer out of a glass boot that you pass around your group. It's pretty cool to watch, everyone's having a good time, then a number of people go dance while I chill out at the table. A woman at the next table asks if I have a light and ... lo and behold, I have a pack of matches from Sexworld! I hand them over and watch as she finally looks at the cover. After that, it's a gigglefest with her friends, I get the matches back, and I'm assuming I'm now known as the Town Perv. Add another town to the list.

The night ends, we all crash, and get up Sunday for the Indiana/Minnesota hoop game, which is another reason I went to Minny. Now, Lori and I have a bet on the game - she has Minny, I have IU. We're doing this Deep Creek weekend next weekend with a bunch of friends, and the loser has to make the drinks for the winner all weekend.

I've been watching Indiana hoop for over 20 years. That might've been the absolute worst game I've ever seen them play. Jackasses. I mean, watching IU get pounded was pretty much akin to having Richard Simmons sit on my lap for 10 minutes. Quite the capper to the weekend. Stupid Hoosiers.

After that, we hit the Mall of America (which is your basic mall, only a billion times as big), and then flew home.

On the way back ... you guessed it ... Janet Reno the flight attendant. Eesh.