You know what really sucks? Yes, besides the movie Eyes Wide Shut and Pam Anderson in that video with Tommy Lee. That's right, I said it. Um, when I go outside and I forget to take the "Sell Me Something Now!!" sign off of my forehead.

I'm at the gym, on the bike, sweating rivers, and two women walk up to me and introduce themselves. Naturally, I can't hear a word they're saying cuz I got George Thurogood telling me to move it on over, cool dog, and the volume's on 11 (for you Spinal Tap fans). So, I have to slow down, turn off the iPod, and listen to the sales pitch.

Them: Hi, we're new. I'm Frick and this is Frack. Do you have any friends that would like to join the gym?
Me: I don't believe in friends. The world's going to end on 11/9, according to the experts at the Weekly World News, so I've given up friends for Lent. Besides, I'm not real - I'm a cartoon.
Them: [backing away slowly]

Ok, I didn't actually say that, I just let them yammer away, then I politely said something nonsensical and they left. But, it gets better! It always gets better!

I hit the Singles Safeway after the gym, and I've got the iPod still on 11. This time, I've got Incubus telling me to make yourself ... whatever the hell that means. It's actually disturbingly close to them telling me to go f*** myself, but I digress. I'm checking out the soup, and I notice some lady to my right doing mime stuff. Ok, she's actually talking, but I can't hear her because I have these things in my ears. EARPHONES! Hello? Argh.

So, I turn off the iPod, but she apparently thinks I'm deaf as well, because this is what I get:

SIR WOULD YOU LIKE TO TRY OUR NEW [INSERT SANDWICH NAME HERE]?!?! WE SELL IT IN THE DELI COUNTER RIGHT OVER THERE!!!!

I politely try to decline.

IT'S EXCELLENT, SIR!!! HERE, TRY IT [SHOVES SAMPLE IN MY HAND]!! WE SELL IT IN THE DELI COUNTER RIGHT OVER THERE!!! [points again because it's clear if I'm wearing earphones that I'm also a complete idiot]

At this point, I begin to realize that I should have never left the house. Ever. In fact, I might not leave the house now. Ever. Again. I figure I have Playboy, Oxygen magazine, the Internet, and enough cat food to last a month.

The sandwich was friggin' good though. Damnit. No, I didn't buy one, smartass. Go stand over there now ---------->.

Check this out. I found a song lyric that is the epitome of my life! I'm changing it to my signature immediately! Kudos to Julian Cope, the coolest heroin addict/musician/weirdo ever, for penning this beauty:

"Woke up in a fireplace ... slept like a log."

Yup, that pretty much sums it up. I haven't actually woke up in a fireplace yet ... but I'm sure it's coming.

Last night was ... um ... in a word, weird. I can't even describe it. I did get some kissing skills practice in. Unfortunately, I was kissing a gyro platter from Maria D's. I ate the entire thing, too. Ugh. The calorie counter in my head just exploded.

Let's see. Started out at the Bay Cafe for the happy hour "let's see just how drunk Jack can get before sundown" fun show. It worked. Shocker. From there, went to a birthday party for this beautiful li'l Asian darlin' that is the wife of a buddy of mine. 'Twas good stuff, although I think I was seeing triple by that point.

An aside ... I'm completely and totally hooked on the Grey's Anatomy soundtrack. To the point of it being a little frightening. I especially recommend "Looking At The World From The Bottom of a Well" by Mike Doughty ... although it sounds a lot like a sped up Soul Coughing. Maybe I'll use that as an excuse for future dumb behavior ... cuz you know it's coming.

Why'd you do that, idiot?
It's cuz of the Grey's Anatomy soundtrack!

Oh yeah, I can see that totally working. And props to Lauren for the original tip on it ... and a happy birthday to her as well. She's legally able to enter a bar now. Ok, ok, it just seems that way sometimes. Friggin' youngsters!

So, anyway, I'm fairly excited for this party, because there's this mega hot woman that I totally dig who is supposed to attend and she's freshly single! Faburama! I think I scored some major points with her, too ... I managed not to say a single word to her other than hello, and she completely ignored me when I said that. Dunno about you, but I think I'm in! It's only a matter of time before she caves. In fact, I'm mildly surprised she didn't just jump me with that kind of connection going on.

I did talk to a couple of lovely lasses and even a dude or two. I also managed to drink. Imagine that.

From there, I went to somewhere around a thousand more bars. I think. Let's list 'em, shall we? Fed Hill Lounge, Grumpies, Crazy Lil's, Magerk's, Drifters, that late night karaoke place ... mmm, I think that might be it. According to eye witness accounts of the events, I was "missed my Ritalin pill" Jack. Maybe I should start doing coke ... might slow me down some. Eesh.

AH! Almost forgot this gem, and this is just for Lauren. I left myself a note, and she claimed that I wouldn't remember what it meant. Fortunately, it was early enough that I can see it through the fog. HA!

"Do I get 3D glasses with that outfit?"

I think that pretty much explains itself, eh? Ok, I'll go a little further. This chick at the Bay Cafe had this outfit on ... um ... how can I describe this? I'm going to give it a couple of efforts.

Boy George ate a basketful of colored yarn and then hurled
MC Esher has a new clothing line
What's black and white and red all over? That chick!

Ok, remember when Joey put all of Chandler's clothes on in that one episode of Friends? "Could I BE wearing any more clothes?" Mmm, ok, it wasn't anything like that, I just think that scene was friggin' hilarious.

Ever have someone you don't really know that well hit on a friend that you know is a complete disaster? Yeah, yeah, stock answer - you mean like when women hit on Jack? Ha. That's really funny. Didn't I tell you to stand over there? ---------->

Anyway, that happened last night. Fortunately, I had a run in with the girl a few months back and we're not exactly buddies, so it was more comedic for me than anything. Kinda like watching a car crash in slow motion. See, sometimes it's fun to be single.

Ugh. It's been a long week of dumbness. Let's go through this week's list of dumb people. Actually, I think most of these happened in one day.

- I'm at lunch, and I'm sitting at a table which has 10 chairs. I'm at the very end. Some chick comes over and sits down right next to me. Eight other friggin' choices. No buffer seat, no nuttin' ... we're rubbin' elbows as I work on my glazed carrots.

What's that? Yes, I eat glazed carrots. No, I'm not 68 years old! I think I'm calling blog security! Um, you do realize that you're interrupting the blog? Ok then.

Now, it's quite possible that she was astonished by my beauty and felt she had to get close ... but she didn't say a word the entire time. She also reminded me of a muppet, which was a little disturbing. I haven't figured out which one yet, either. Beaker? Gonzo? Other than Miss Piggy, were there any female muppets? These are the things that keep me awake at night.

As if that's not enough, three other clowns come over, and sit down right across from me. Note to self ... demagnetize self before going out in public.

- Also in the cafeteria ... hey, what can I say, the cafe's full of idiots! Dude is on one of those cell phones in the ear things, and he's yappin' and pacin' back and forth, right in front of easily the most crowded and busy part of the cafeteria. Sheer brilliance. I kept waiting for someone to accidently run into him and smoosh their glazed carrots all over his shirt. If only I was runnin' things!

- I'm not even going to get into the dumbness at the gym. Let's just say there was more talkin' while sitting ON machines. I love that.

Quick aside. I didn't think it was possible for my gym to try to get more money out of me. I mean, forget the silly monthly rate - it's seriously like walking into a mall. I walk in, there's generally some schlub there standing at a table hawking insurance or mountain bikes or cigarettes or whatever. However, I found out today that it's $10 for a new swipe card. The one I have is my original - it's over 3 years old. Hey, thanks for being a member for so long! That'll be $10!

The beauty? Found out from Marc that I don't need it to get in. Suckers!

- And, our final idiot of the week ... and I'm sure not the last! ... I'm in class last night, it starts, the professor is trying to talk and some yahoo is on her cell phone. He kinda gives her a rolling eyes look, and she finally hangs up.

It gets better!

Her phone rings again, and she gets all huffy and puffy and answers it, then runs outside ... and starts yammering right outside the classroom door. So, no one can really hear the professor due to YammerDope outside. The prof is pretty comical in general, and he just stops and shakes his head. Someone closes the door.

It gets better!

She comes back in all puffy and gruffy, and sits down. You guessed it ... phone rings again! She actually stops the prof in mid sentence, and asks if she can speak to him outside. It would've been hilarious if it wasn't so ... so ... um, words completely escape me here. It turns out, her alarm was going off at her house, and the alarm company was calling her, so she decided to disturb everyone else in the class and the professor at the same time. I thought about asking her if it was her alarm clock, and maybe they could just hit snooze, but things seemed a tad tense.

Can't wait 'til grades are posted. Heh.

Check this out ... so, I'm rooting through my "Hello? Isn't That Obvious?" folder the other day (which is really more of an entire file cabinet), and I found this baby:

Dudes and dudettes ... if someone you might be interested in dating calls you and leaves a message, and it takes you a couple of days to call back, using the excuse that you "completely forgot" to call them back is a really, really bad idea. I know I'm crazy, but that doesn't send a very good signal, knowwhatimean? Yeah.

I'm trying to recap Saturday, but I don't remember much. Yes, I should have written this down on Sunday, but I didn't remember much then, either. I DO remember that I got some JV rum at someone's house, which put me into a tizzy both that night and the next day. I know it wasn't Captain Morgan ... I'm guessing it was Corporal Morgan or Private Morgan at best. Oof. Very bad rum makes a Very Bad Jack.

One of the tougher things about sleeping in a strange house is trying to find the bathroom in the night. Especially if you're really, really drunk. I can almost understand why there are so many stories of people whizzing in closets. I managed to make it to the bathroom in the dead of night on Saturday ... barely ... but it did get me to thinking about how that next morning conversation must go if you've used the closet instead.

Closet Violator: G'morning!
Closet Wetted: Uh whatever.
CV: What's the problem? Did I snore?
CW: Umm, the problem is you hosed down my closet last night with your urine.
CV: Hmm.
[pause]
CV: Wanna get some breakfast?
CW: Get out.

Heh. I even heard a story of a dude whizzing into someone else's suitcase when they were on vacation. Classic! Imagine that going through Customs.

Big Ol' Butt by LL Cool J. Just sayin' it's good at the gym. The new Bob Dylan CD is quite fine, too, but I wouldn't recommend it for the gym. Now run with that information!

Hubba Bubba! Those of you old enough, that was a fine li'l bubble gum. Yeah, it's 9:37 am and it's likely that I won't make much sense in this one. Put it this way ... I was just getting dressed for the gym, and I was dancing to Echo and the Bunnymen. Freak show!

Have to do some business first.

- It's not possible for me to hear the name Fernando without immediately getting that horrrrrrrrible Abba song stuck in my head. It's a friggin' curse, I tell ya.

- Ok, so there are a couple of women on Myspace that are "Bi", but aren't interested in boys. Isn't that "gay"? I'm so lost on sexual orientation labels ... 'course, the HN won't be surprised to hear that.

- Was talking to a friend yesterday, and we got into a discussion about waterbed sex. This discussion morphed from a discussion on trampoline sex, which just sounds sorta painful in a weird fun way. Dunno if any of ya'll have had waterbed sex ... but it sucks. Big time. I mean, I'm a white dude ... by law, I have no rhythm. Throw in waves, and fuhgedaboudit.

Last night was fraught with boringness. If I talked to you last night, my apologies, but it's true. I spent most of the night working on a bartender for a friend. Gotta get my wingman karma going, doncha know. Fortunately, I have notes!

Note #1 - "Jim same shirt"

I can't believe I forgot to write about this previously. Stupid dead brain cells. So, a few weeks ago, I meet some friends at Pickle's for some drinks. My buddy Jim has this shirt that's his A shirt ... this might be news to some, but most dudes have 1 or 2 shirts that are their A shirts. Generally, it's a shirt that you wore once and got lucky, so you wear it for the rest ... of ... your ... life.

And, yes, I do have one. I might even have 2. Anyway.

So, Jim's shirt is quite unique. It's ... uh ... fuscia and blue striped and it's quite ... uh ... unique. I'm trying to be nice here. You kind have to see it to get the full effect. Think of someone eating one of those Bomb Pop things they sell on the ice cream truck ... and then getting sick. There's a visual for ya.

So, I walk into Pickle's, and there are a good 8 people or so in there (it was a busy night for Pickle's), and some dude has on the same shirt as Jim, except the collar was the opposite color. I couldn't have been more freaked out if I had woken up next to Charo. I seriously thought I had fallen into Bizarro World.

Note #2 - "Is he drunk or handicapped?"

Passed a dude on the way to the Square last night, and that was an actual question in my head. I seriously hope he was handicapped, cuz if he was drunk ... uh ... damn. That's all I have to say about that.

Note #3 - "Dude puking at Cs"

So, I show up at Claddaugh's. It's kinda quiet, and there's a dude sitting in one of the window seats and he's completely and totally asleep. Out. Like a light. If my camera phone didn't suck complete ass, I'd have a good picture of him. I strike up a conversation with this incredibly drunk girl standing nearby, and she's his wife. Good combo. Hey, nothing says love like falling down together on the way home! As we're conversatin', he leans over and hurls out in the street. Classic. Time of this note ... 10:18 pm. Happy Saturday!

Sellin' cats at 2 today! Second one is half price! C'mon in!

Oh, and one last note ... she returned my call! Woot!

Yes, yes, yes, I'm late. I'm well aware of that. It's been kind of a kooky week, complete with a bad and confusing Accounting class and weird dreams which have screwed up my sleep. Quit yellin' at me - let's just get to it.

Friday ... went to a wedding. I've never been a big fan of weddings. I wear a tie every day to work, so I like to chill on the weekends and scrub down. I just made that term up, thank you. So, we hop on a bus from downtown and head out to BFE for the wedding ... actually, I think the wedding was about 15 miles further than BFE. BFE + 15 should be the town name. Welcome to BFE + 15 ... good luck finding your way back to the real world! On the bus, I spy a purty young thing who appears to have a date ... I mentally cross that one off the list. However, the power of alcohol and all that nonsense takes hold later!

I corner the best man, Vin, and ask him about her. He notes that she's availabe, and the dude's just a friend. Score! As a bonus, he offers to see if she's interested. He returns a few minutes later with a big grin, and relates this convo he had with her:

Vin: Hey, there's someone I'd like you to meet.
Esther: Um, I'm not really up for meeting anyone tonight.
Vin: Well, he's really nice. He's over there (points to me).
Esther: Hmm ... (smiles) ... have him come see me before the end of the night.

Ok, first of all, I realize she has the name of someone's 80 year old aunt, but she's also hecka hot, so I'm fired up. Unfortunately, "friend boy" doesn't leave her side ... the ... entire ... night. Doesn't go to the bathroom, doesn't go to the bar, nuttin'. Apparently, he was either born with a bladder the size of his Ohio or he's unable to whizz. Even on the bus ride back, he's right next to her. As a bonus, on the bus ride back two women ask what there is to do in Baltimore, and I'm so focused on how to meet Esther, I blow them off. See why I don't like weddings?

Made up for it on Saturday, though. Portside's back for sure. In fact, it might be a little TOO back. Even I thought it was a bit crowded. The key to that? Offer to escort someone home and get the hey outta there! Works like a charm.

The funniest part of Saturday ... I see my buddy Mark at Portside, and he's a tad drunk. Ok, ok, he's a bit further along than that. Mark's not exactly small - he's 6'5" - and he's standing in the middle of Portside unable to speak. Just standing there, like an oak tree in the middle of a parsley field. Now, what would any good friend do to someone who is in this state? That's right, I bought him a drink. Who needs the ability to talk?!

Now, most of ya'll know the rules. Sunday's the Sabbath, which means it's recovery day. Only problem is, it's football season, people. On top of that, Mark calls to tell me that a woman I met at Dewey is in town, and she has some friends with her, and they're out and about. I'm in the shower in about 3.4 seconds.

As background, this woman is the one I met when I couldn't speak English at all ... you know, after the tray of Jell-O shots? We meet up with them at Magerk's and a situation slowly develops. I'm going to attempt to explain this situation algebra style, or in some sort of logical form here. This might be interesting, or it might be a total disaster. Here goes.

Jack has never been formally introduced to Woman A, but he's heard good things from friends, and is quite interested
Jack also likes Woman B, who is friends with Woman A
There's a rumor going around that Jack is infatuated with Woman A
Woman B claims she's seen an email confirming this rumor ... which is fascinating news, since Jack doesn't have anyone's email address involved
Jack is confused (it's a constant state) and sober (not that constant on the weekends)
Woman A is either playing hard to get (possible) or isn't interested in Jack (impossible ... ;-) )

Cleary, this situation requires a really stupid, idiotic move on someone's part ... and I'm just the man for the job! That's right ... I'm attempted the nearly impossible switch from Woman A to Woman B ... complete with double tuck backflip, walking handstand and an escape from a series of chains and handcuffs!

Quite the interesting few hours it was attempting this switch. At one point, it was looking like a crash and burn with both. I even had a drink to drown my sorrows. Well, actually, I had a drink because someone put it in my hands ... I'm weak like that. You can pretty much put anything in my hands and I'll do something with it ... except Scrapple and Roseanne. Keep that nonsense to yourself.

After what seems like hours of discussion and flirting and discussion and signals and discussion and wild, flailing gestures (there was football on, doncha know), I managed to get Woman B's phone number and ask her out.

What's the result of all this, you ask? Hours of hard work, drinking, and dumbness? Woman B hasn't returned my phone call yet. Classic! Sometimes I wish these things really were works of fiction. Oy.

Check this out. So, I work in a hospital, right? The first thing that comes to mind when you think of a hospital is health, right? Ok, maybe not ... I'm sure malpractice is up there somewhere, and maybe bird flu, and if you're like me, nurses, but work with me. So, we have this Employee Recognition lunch thingy, and here's the menu:

Swedish meatballs
Chicken wings
Bacon wrapped scallops
Egg rolls
Cheese and crackers

Yeah. I think my heart stopped and arteries clogged just writing that. 'Course, I just made myself hungry, too. It appears with this menu that they're trying to drum up some business the direct way.

In my class last night, the Prof is giving examples and used names of not one, not two, but three of my exes. I was waiting for him to come hit me in the head with a mallet and kick me in the groin, but I guess he decided to take it easy on me. Double oy.

I have the "Hey Ya" song in my head right now. I'd be happier if a herd of wombats were gnawing on my fingers. Cripes. Does it get funnier than the word wombat, though?

Ok, so I went to South Bend this weekend for the big Notre Dame/Penn State game. Flew to Chicago on Friday, took the train to the Bend, I'm all fired up and ... realized my friends were hanging out at the house on Friday. Ok, ok, I don't need to go out every night of the weekend I s'pose, and then there's that whole when in Rome thing. 'Course, I made up for it on Saturday.

Hey, so I met a girl this weekend! She's beautiful, funny, smart and everything was going great, until she asked me one of those impossible to answer questions. I can't figure out how to embed this friggin' thing, but if you click on her picture, it should play.



  


That's right ... she asked my why I'm not a daddy. Fortunately, 5 year old girls have the attention span of ... well ... me, so she soon forgot about the question. Then she remembered it again later. Newman! So, I mulled over a few answers:

- Lauren Holly keeps losing my number
- The adult relationship world is a little more complicated than walking up to a girl at recess and pulling her pigtails ... although I might have to try that one
- Kids are the Anti-Christ ... ok, I know that's not true, and I really like kids, but maybe I could get her to ask her parents what the Anti-Christ is and I'd be off the hook
- I'm gay ... mmm, no, there are gay Daddys ... I mean, Tom Cruise has a child
- I might already have kids ... mmm, that would've opened a HUGE can of worms, and I'm not sure I'm ready to go on Maury Povich, anyway

So, I settled for some mumbled thing about how I hadn't met the right person yet, and that when you have the Playboy Channel, you don't need kids. Heh. Ok, I left the second part out, but after my answer I got THIS beauty, and I cannot tell you how many times I've seen a female type person say something like this:



  


Indeed. What the heck AM I all about? So, I spent the rest of the weekend trying to figure that one out. Eh, who am I kidding? I got waffled instead!

Got up early on Saturday. Game time was 3:30, so the tailgate started at 10:00. So, as I'm jumping rope for my workout, I'm telling myself over and over that I'm not going to start drinking until noon. When you drink the Captain, it's never a good idea to start before noon.

Started drinking at 10:30. Yes, I lack willpower. I'm pretty sure that was established long ago. Let's move on.

During the tailgate, the college kids next to us shotgunned a beer or two. 'Course, when they did it, both of my friends kids were sitting with me, so I got to explain what they were doing.

Kid #1: Um, what are they doing?
Me: Shotgunning a beer. See, you put a hole in the bottom of the can, pop the top, and drink the whole thing as fast as possible.
Kid #2: Why?
Me: Hmm ... it's a silly thing to do. Who doesn't like silly? Silly is fun!
Kid #1: It sure does seem silly.
Me: [drinking heavily and sweating]

I also taught one of the two how to do the peace sign. Very important stuff, that.

Game time was awesome. I haven't been to a college game in some time, and I haven't been to the Mecca of college football, Notre Dame, in a few years. It's impossible to describe. I had a camera, my phone, and none of those devices can even come close to capturing the electricity of walking into that place.

Unfortunately, the game was a blowout. The Irish ran all over PSU. Ugly stuff, especially since I was somewhat neutral - I like both programs.

Here's where it gets comical. When we hit the liquor store the night before, I decided against "the handle" when I bought the bottle of Captain, because I was going to be the only one drinking it. If you don't know what "the handle" is, check out the biggest Captain bottle next time you're in the store and you'll get it.

Problem is, a beautiful young lass shows up to the tailgate, and she wants some Captain. Hey, I may be dumb, but I'm not stupid, doncha know. Drink on! So, when I decide to leave the game, I realize I need more booze. STAT! Here's the convo with my friend:

Me: Um, I need to get more Captain. Where's the closest liquor store?
He: Are you sure you need more? We're going to go back to the tailgate for a bit then probably go home.
Me: [trying not to laugh at the suggestion that I wouldn't need more Captain]
He: We'll watch the Ohio State game at the house ...
Me: [crossed arms and tapping foot]
He: [sigh] Ok, here are directions to the liquor store ...

It gets better. My friend Bill is at the tailgate, and he's similar to me ... late 30s, tall, single, dashingly handsome, hilarious, charming, brilliant. Oops, went a bit overboard there. We're not that tall. Heh. Bill's a lawyer in Chicago, and we decide to hit the town once we realize that Ohio State rules Texas. We walk into this place, and I swear the ratio is 99 to 1 guys to girls. It's like my worst nightmare. As a bonus, there are 6 attractive women in the place ... and they're all behind the bar. The impossible pickup.

This is where Bill gets the gold star for Genius Idea of the Century. He notes that with the time change, we can be back in Chicago and out at bars at midnight.

I mulled this over for a good 0.7 seconds ... to Chicago!

Arrived right around midnight, freshened up and hit the bars. The rest of the night is somewhat blurry, but I do remember some minor kissing skills practice and Mexican food that was so spicy my vision was blurred. Eh, who am I kidding ... I'm sure my vision was already blurred anyway.

So, on the flight back, I got a free upgrade to first class. Score! Now, I realize this might be a shock to ya'll, being that I'm an international playboy and model/spokesmodel/fluffernutter, but I've never flown first class before. It was quite cool ... except I didn't get any mofo cookies and I didn't sit next to a model. Friggin' Seinfeld, ruining my image of first class!

Wanna know what it's like being me? Two examples.

A friend noted that she saw me out running yesterday. Had my running shoes on, my workout clothes, you know ... running stuff. Um, I was running to the liquor store.

Story #2. This was a conversation I had with a woman in a bar recently:

She: Yeah, we hooked up once at your place.
Me: [blank look]
She: You don't remember?
Me: [clearly not remembering] Um, sure! Of course I do! Wanna go make out?
She: [blank look]

I spent most of Saturday night trying to decipher the text messages I was receiving. It was kind of cool in a Sherlock Holmes/Scrappy Doo detective sort of way. I'd get a text, not recognize the number because I had a new phone and had to re-do all my numbers, and have to figure out who was sending it. So, if you got some really weird responses, there ya go. Mmm, well, weirder than normal.

I'm trying really hard to remember what else I did on Saturday, but I'm coming up empty. I went to the gym, tried to sell some cats, and then ... um ... I went out. How's that? I'm sure something happened in the 6 hours I was out, but I got nuttin'. I do know that I delivered a late night pizza to someone, and that I woke up in my own bed. Let's just move to Sunday.

Actually, I do remember one conversation from Saturday night that was somewhat comical. It was a recap of a conversation I had with a young lady a few months ago, in which she told me that she reads my blogs and that I "just want to be loved." So, for you Hitchhiker fans, there's only one conclusion from this ... I'm a Vogon! I'm not sure how I'm taking this news at this point.

One other note ... Steve has taken to delivering my drinks at Portside Old West style. It's pretty comical ... he'll be a little bit down the bar, and slide it down to me. I'll be chatting with someone, look down, and here comes the booze. Yes, I am easily amused, thank you.

For whatever reason, I was all fired up about Sunday. Big time. Started at the Bay Cafe, which quickly got packed. They also were playing the absolute worst music I've ever heard in a bar. It was like a cross between trance and the stuff they play in elevators. Fortunately, that gave me an excuse to drink ... like I needed one.

A couple of highlights from the rest of the night:

- I saw the lip gloss woman from Friday night, said hello, and she had no idea who I was. Hey, at least I remember the women I kiss. Most of them. Some of them. Anyway.

- I closed the Square. It was pretty cool ... I was actually one of the last people to leave. I'm not sure if I remembered to turn out the lights, though.

- Around 3 am, I rolled into my neighborhood. What I did from 2 to 3 is anyone's guess. I still had my shirt on, though, which was a step up from Friday night.

- I woke up around 6 am asleep on the futon in my back bedroom, aka The Cat Room. This is a bit odd because I started out in the front bedroom with someone beside me. Naturally, my first reaction was "what did I do wrong to end up back here?" Yeah. Turns out I just made a wrong turn coming out of the bathroom. I guess. That, or I wanted to hang out with the cats.

Taking the act on the road this weekend. Headed to South Bend for the Notre Dame/Penn State game. So, if you know anyone in the greater South Bend area ... actually, might just want to cover all of the Northern Indiana area the way things are going lately ... you might want to warn them of my impending arrival.

So it goes ...

A'ight, so I've had Shadow Dancin' by Andy Gibb in my head the entire ... friggin' ... week. It's no wonder the HN thinks I'm gay. Pipe down, already. Let's just get to it, shall we?

I'm writing this stuff now for a number of reasons. Most important is that it's 8:04 on a Saturday morning and I'm pretty sure I'm still waffled. Should be a fun workout!

I realize I haven't started yet, but there's nothing better than texting the HN at 8:04. Seriously. Wait ... that's 8:04 am, by the by. She does one of those pretend pissed off things. It's great. It's entirely possible that she really is pissed off, but I pretend to be oblivious, so it works out.

I'm doing this on a Saturday morning because we're in the middle of a 3 day ... who am I kidding, it's really 3 NIGHTS! ... and I want to keep your blog readin' skills sharp. That and it's entirely possible that I'm going to forget a lot of stuff in the next 48 hours.

Ok, is there anything better than walking into Portside, sitting down next to a hecka hot, and having her ask you if you want to do the lip gloss transfer within the first 10 minutes? I'm not kidding. I seriously thought that Demi Moore's boyfriend ... ok, ok, I actually like Ashton Kutcher so let's refer to him by name ... was going to jump out from the shadows and tell me I was being punked. Nevertheless .... that was the start of the evening. Two kisses ... on the lips. Turns out, the lip gloss wasn't really my shade, but I'm ok with that.

Shh ... c'mere ... we're going to text the HN right now. Insert evil laughter here ...

Great ... my #8 button doesn't work. This should be an interesting night. If you get a text that doesn't have any vowels ... or the #8 ... or if your phone number has an 8 in it ... yeah.

Ok, so I woke up this morning, and the checks that I just got for my home equity loan were scattered all over the floor. Not only that, but my specs were missing. Clearly, the furheads realize that blinding me and taking my money is the way to the promised land. Lemme tell ya .... there are few things funnier than me on a Saturday morning trying to find my glasses. Picture Mr. Magoo in a tad better shape and you'll get the gist. Well, I'm usually trying to escort someone out of my house, too ... let's just move on.

Ok, I just had to take a break. Why? Cuz Eduardo or Elfonzo or whatever that hurricane is called decided to kill my phone last night. Friggin' hurricanes. So, if you want me to have your number, send it somehow. I also lost all of my notes from last night, so these memories might be a tad hazy. A lot hazy. Ah, who am I kidding, I'll be lucky to remember anything!

Is there a better word than apparently? I had a friend once tell me that all my weekend stories start with that word. Um ... duh! That's because I have to rely on others to tell me what happened.

So, apparently, the hecka hot lip gloss girl's number is in my phone ... that died. Frick. Sure hope she returns to Portside soon!

The one good thing so far today ... I got new necklaces! And, with my new phone, I also have camera phone! Yeah! You've been warned. I can't wait to take a picture of something ... like last night, when I was APPARENTLY walking home with my shirt off in the rain. I found that piece of news out this morning. It's always a good sign when you have to go get your shirt because it's at someone else's house. No ... friggin' ... clue ... how it got there. So, let's recap:

Checks scattered all over
Shirt missing
Glasses missing
Phone dead

Yup, I think that just about covers it. The way things are going, it's entirely possible that I'm pregnant.

The cool thing about Eduardo or ... hell, I can't remember the hurricane names, there's only like a billion of them every year ... is that I get to break out my cool clothes. If I haven't mentioned this before, I'm not a big fan of my summer wear. Did I mention that I got new necklaces today? Did I also mention that the HN thinks I'm gay? I think I'm starting to get it.

Stooge sitting on the elliptical. Let's go there real quick. I really don't like calling her a Stooge, because she's one of the hottest women in the gym, but she sat on the back of an elliptical machine and yapped to a friend for at least 30 minutes the other day. Seriously. Just sat there ... and no one could use the machine because she was just sitting on it. I wish I was kidding.

So, back to last night. Portside is back, Steve is back, and I actually spent some time talking to a beautiful young lass who teaches spin at our gym. I haven't the slightest idea what we discussed. Probably spin class. They really should just call me Deep Thoughts and get it over with.

The really funny thing is I was supposed to meet my buddy Mark in Fell's, but I couldn't get a cab. I stood out in the rain for a good 20 minutes, waving my arms like ... well, literally like a drowning man ... and nuttin'. Even better was once I gave up, I returned to the house for another drink before going to the Square. Can't be sobering up, doncha know.

A'ight (that's for Sherry ... ha!), so I'm off to sell some cats. I'm sure there's more coming soon ...