Earlier this semester, I was graced with the presence of one of my best friends from home. I mean it only took 3 1/2 years for him to finally come down (great friend he is). Even though I had visited a numerous amount of times at school, it took a good year's worth of badgering and verbal threats to his manhood if he did not come down. I guess they worked as he finally showed up, only a month shy of me leaving school. Now the thing with my friend is that he's not the normal best friend that you have. We get along great, but ever since we've gone off to college, our lives have turned in different directions. While I was hitting the books and forcing myself to learn, my friend was pounding beers and broads at his school. Needless to say, it was a perfect storm when my friend came, as my studious habits were going to have to give way to his eccentric and nonstop style of partying.
Although I'd like to consider myself as a guy who can throw down with the best of them, I cannot keep up with my friend. As he puts it, he is a machine and does not stop for anyone or anything. Trust me. I've tried keeping up with the guy, and all I've ended up with is hungover, unhappy, sleep-deprived, and sometimes in another state. He once woke me up at 8:30 in the morning so we could start pounding some beers that were left over from the night before. I don't know how he does it, even though I'm thoroughly convinced that his days of popping No-Doze finally worked for him. My friend and few other good friends of mine came down along with him and the stage was set for an awesome partying weekend. No one knew what lay ahead, but it involved dumb decisions and a kegstand that I'd like to forget.
My friends arrived late on Friday and by the time I head over to another friend's house where they were staying, they were already drinking. It was 7:00, I barely walked in the door, and I'm handed a beer. This was an ominous sign, as it was the beginning of drunken debauchery to its most excessive point. After pounding beers for a good few hours, we head out to some house parties to see what my school has to offer. By the time we arrive at the party, my friend is slow, lethargic, and drunk. The only solution in his mind, is to keep drinking. And since I wasn't leaving his side despite my best efforts, I was drinking too. Every beer that went down made me cringe, regardless of its brand. Don't get me wrong. I love beer, but there only so much that you can handle of it. With beer drinking, there is only so much I can take before "Mmm! Beer!" turns into "Kill me now, I'm upchucking my brains out." And that night, I was an unhealthy mix of both. The beer was not sitting well with me, when my friend finds a keg. Oh shit.
My friend, being the great opportunist that he is, gets the great idea that his friend (me) should do a kegstand. I immeidately tell him no, citing that I might puke everywhere and I don't want to end the night early. My negative thoughts towards the prospect of hanging upside down, were quickly dashed as chants of "pussy" were exclaimed by many patrons of the party. Oh great. We have just created a scene and now I'm having my manhood being called out all for the sake of proving that I can do a kegstand. Honestly, there is no better way to prove that I'm a man than by doing this. Seriously, we must be apes that frequently participate in circle jerks because we are that dumb at times. I finally succumb to the peer pressure to divert attention away from me and have two of friends hold my legs up. I put my mouth to the tap and began drinking.
As I'm drinking the terrible, cheap beer from the keg, the only thought that could go through my mind is that I hope that I don't puke everywhere. I seriously didn't need that. Over the last couple of months, I have sullied my reputation as being able holding my alcohol, by puking in and on friends' cars, the living rooms of my house and apartment, and even the corner of a bar. I closed my eyes and opened my throat, praying to God that I wouldn't have a sudden reflex to resist the copious amounts of beer going into me. I lasted 21 seconds until I started to kick and kindly request that I be let down. Come to think of it, it was more of a stern "let me down and if you don't, I will hurt you." But I did it, and I didn't puke that night. I was awakened the next morning at 9:00 by my friend to go buy him beer, but I simply turned my phone off and resumed my peaceful sleep. Suck it, him.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
This week, my friends and I are in Las Vegas celebrating the twilight of college careers by gambling away all of our money, buying $10 beers, and unsuccessfully picking up foreign chicks. And then it hit me. While holding my $7 Miller Lite (don't forget the extra $2 for tip since that bartender doesn't think that one Mr. Washington is enough) on the 53rd floor of the Palms, I realized that I needed to jump back on the horse and starting writing once again. I don't understand how I reached that conclusion, but the means don't particularly matter at this point.
So after an extremely long hiatus and some newfound motivation, I've decided to pick up where I've left off and continue. And don't worry, I've completed some things on the list and then some. Over the course of the next few weeks, I'll bring you guys up to speed on the progress of the list and add a few wrinkles to make things more interesting. With that being said, I'm going to go gamble some more.
So after an extremely long hiatus and some newfound motivation, I've decided to pick up where I've left off and continue. And don't worry, I've completed some things on the list and then some. Over the course of the next few weeks, I'll bring you guys up to speed on the progress of the list and add a few wrinkles to make things more interesting. With that being said, I'm going to go gamble some more.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
#75: Stop Talking Like My Roommate (part II)
I left you all last time with a goal for me to stop talking like my roommate. His constant idiosyncrasies, gestures, and phrases that make a three year old sound like Thomas Edison or even Albert Einstein had taken a toll on me. It was time for me to see the light and venture away from words that had become so commonplace such as "ballin," "bo," and "beatin it." Let me tell you that it's been a long, hard road to recovery. I won't say that trying not to speak like a seven year old has been paved with gold and smelled like roses, but it hasn't been that bad. Talking like a real, normal human being hasn't really helped me get ladies in the sack (like I said it would, stupid me) or anything awesome like that, but I'd like to think that I'm working on it right now. It will happen in due time I guess. Since I've made this proclamation about two weeks ago, I'd like to think that I've been pretty good. Or so I think. There are times where I do have random urges to say these words, but for the most part I've been under control.
With that being said, I have hit some bumps on the road. There have been at least two instances that constantly occur where I struggle to abstain from speaking like Kyle. One happens when I'm watching football with my friends and the other happens when I get drunk. Granted, I do revert back to "Suck it" or some derogatory phrase like that whenever I want to make fun of someone but "suck it" is a phrase that someone truly deserves when they earn it. Anyway, whenever I'm watching football with my friends (Kyle included), we tend to sound like a bunch of retarded cavemen whenever any significant event such as a touchdown, fumble, or interception occurs. I can't help it to be honest. When 10 other guys are saying "ballin'," then you're more inclined to say it, regardless of any premontions that you have against it. Since football season has started, the past two Sundays have been filled with Kyle's words. It's almost as if he's putting words in mouth, but sadly that's not the case. My fantasy team has been pretty nasty, only helping my case to achieve item #33: Win a Fantasy Football Championship on my 99things list. So in the case of football, I think that it's definitely worth it, so long as I continue my winning ways. Here's to hoping.
The other time in which I use my roommate's sayings uncontrollably is when I'm drunk. I can't really help it when I'm under the influence. It's just like second nature to me in this case. Case in point, this past Friday. I went over to a friend's house to participate in a Tour de Franzia, which everyone should participate in at some point during their adult lives. Anyway, prior to arriving at my friend's house, my use of Kyleisms had been very limted at best. I had a busy week and there was really no time to dumb myself down and talk like a child. However, that quickly changed. I arrived late and completely missed the entire tour, thanks to my friends' inability to be patient for a few extra minutes. So with missing the event, my friends were already trashed and I needed to catch up. And that's what I did, as I caught up to my friends, downing cup after cup of Franzia in an effort to get trashed. As soon as the sweet taste of that fucking cheap wine hit my lips, all my preconcieved efforts to refrain from saying Kyle's words went right out the window. From the bits and pieces I remember of that night, probably every third word I said was either a "bo," or "ballin." That tells you how much I was able to charm others of the opposite sex, when I'm stumbling around with a cup of cheap wine in my hand, sounding like a bumbling fool. I guess I deserved what was coming for me, as I managed to paint the town with my vomit, literally. Suck it, me, as my favorite bo (Kyle) would say.
With that being said, I have hit some bumps on the road. There have been at least two instances that constantly occur where I struggle to abstain from speaking like Kyle. One happens when I'm watching football with my friends and the other happens when I get drunk. Granted, I do revert back to "Suck it" or some derogatory phrase like that whenever I want to make fun of someone but "suck it" is a phrase that someone truly deserves when they earn it. Anyway, whenever I'm watching football with my friends (Kyle included), we tend to sound like a bunch of retarded cavemen whenever any significant event such as a touchdown, fumble, or interception occurs. I can't help it to be honest. When 10 other guys are saying "ballin'," then you're more inclined to say it, regardless of any premontions that you have against it. Since football season has started, the past two Sundays have been filled with Kyle's words. It's almost as if he's putting words in mouth, but sadly that's not the case. My fantasy team has been pretty nasty, only helping my case to achieve item #33: Win a Fantasy Football Championship on my 99things list. So in the case of football, I think that it's definitely worth it, so long as I continue my winning ways. Here's to hoping.
The other time in which I use my roommate's sayings uncontrollably is when I'm drunk. I can't really help it when I'm under the influence. It's just like second nature to me in this case. Case in point, this past Friday. I went over to a friend's house to participate in a Tour de Franzia, which everyone should participate in at some point during their adult lives. Anyway, prior to arriving at my friend's house, my use of Kyleisms had been very limted at best. I had a busy week and there was really no time to dumb myself down and talk like a child. However, that quickly changed. I arrived late and completely missed the entire tour, thanks to my friends' inability to be patient for a few extra minutes. So with missing the event, my friends were already trashed and I needed to catch up. And that's what I did, as I caught up to my friends, downing cup after cup of Franzia in an effort to get trashed. As soon as the sweet taste of that fucking cheap wine hit my lips, all my preconcieved efforts to refrain from saying Kyle's words went right out the window. From the bits and pieces I remember of that night, probably every third word I said was either a "bo," or "ballin." That tells you how much I was able to charm others of the opposite sex, when I'm stumbling around with a cup of cheap wine in my hand, sounding like a bumbling fool. I guess I deserved what was coming for me, as I managed to paint the town with my vomit, literally. Suck it, me, as my favorite bo (Kyle) would say.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
#75: Stop Talking Like My Roommate
This goal is a new one that I've created. It's not for the sake of doing something on my list, it's more of trying to rid myself of a horrible habit. You see, I have a roommate whose expressions, phrases, and general incompetence has become contagious. His name is Kyle. And yes, he is fucking annoying. Don't get me wrong, he's a great friend and roommate, but this needs to stop. But in the three years that I've known him, I've been able to dumb myself down and act like him. It's something very hard, but yet I have done the impossible. His idiosyncrasies and sayings have become second nature to me. Whenever I try to make fun of or mock someone, it's Kyle's phrases that I turn to as my bread and butter. He has some great expressions that are perfect for some situations, but they're all fucking stupid. A five year old could come up with some these. So I'm breaking the habit and stopping this retarded cycle now.
The whole goal in this is simple. I want to sound smarter when I'm around others. Now that Kyle lives with me, I find myself going to the well of saying that Kyle would use too many times. Trust me, the ladies do not like it when I shake my head like a spaz or even sound like a whiny bitch. As I'm preparing to transition from college to the real world, I have to realize that not everyone thinks that Kyle's jokes are funny and perhaps there is another way to sound funny, although it might be hard to fathom.
Granted, I know that this is hard, I mean impossible, to complete. Not with saying that Kyle's vernacular or "Kyleisms" as I like to call them have corrupted my humor and sometimes make me look like a six year old. But rather the fact that Kyle is my roommate and he lives next door to me. By following through on this goal, I can no longer act like him when he tries to hit on me like a faggot (no homo), when I come into my room and find Kyle in my bed, or even anytime he does something stupid. I was able to do this before in the summer, because my parents thought I was fucking retarded whenever I said something that Kyle would say, and would refuse to acknowledge me until I sounded like a normal human being.
So for the rest of the semester, I am not allowed to say the following words/phrases:
- Bo.
- I bet.
- Suck it.
- Really?
- Seriously?
- S My D.
- Meh.
- any form of "beat it."
- shaking my head like a spaz
And the list goes on. I'm short on the all of the words he says, but I'll add them as they come to mind. This is entirely possible, but hard to do. However, it can be done and I'm confident that I'll succeed. I might slip up and there might be setbacks, but I'm comitted to the effort. We'll see what happens.
The whole goal in this is simple. I want to sound smarter when I'm around others. Now that Kyle lives with me, I find myself going to the well of saying that Kyle would use too many times. Trust me, the ladies do not like it when I shake my head like a spaz or even sound like a whiny bitch. As I'm preparing to transition from college to the real world, I have to realize that not everyone thinks that Kyle's jokes are funny and perhaps there is another way to sound funny, although it might be hard to fathom.
Granted, I know that this is hard, I mean impossible, to complete. Not with saying that Kyle's vernacular or "Kyleisms" as I like to call them have corrupted my humor and sometimes make me look like a six year old. But rather the fact that Kyle is my roommate and he lives next door to me. By following through on this goal, I can no longer act like him when he tries to hit on me like a faggot (no homo), when I come into my room and find Kyle in my bed, or even anytime he does something stupid. I was able to do this before in the summer, because my parents thought I was fucking retarded whenever I said something that Kyle would say, and would refuse to acknowledge me until I sounded like a normal human being.
So for the rest of the semester, I am not allowed to say the following words/phrases:
- Bo.
- I bet.
- Suck it.
- Really?
- Seriously?
- S My D.
- Meh.
- any form of "beat it."
- shaking my head like a spaz
And the list goes on. I'm short on the all of the words he says, but I'll add them as they come to mind. This is entirely possible, but hard to do. However, it can be done and I'm confident that I'll succeed. I might slip up and there might be setbacks, but I'm comitted to the effort. We'll see what happens.
Once You Go Black, You Never Go Back, Right?
So one of the many highlights of my summer was my 21st birthday. As an only child that was constantly suppressed by my parents, my 21st birthday was going to be something amazing. Incredible would be another way to describe as it would be filled with drinking, more drinking, and hopefully scoring with a random chick. At least that's what I hoped. It never works out that way.
After spending my actual 21st birthday doing nothing but work and volleyball, I had to wait until the end of my swim season to finally celebrate. I went big with the 21st birthday. I set up an event on Facebook, invited everyone I thought would come, and hoped for the best. However, much to my dismay, many of the people that accepted were under 21. The point of inviting them was a joke, but apparently they didn't get that. Regardless of who showed up and who didn't, the 21st birthday party was still off the chain.
I first went with a few of my friends out to a driving range, drinking some brews and hitting some golf balls. I know I sound like a faggot when I wrote that, but its the truth. It felt really empowering to order beers. Especially when I was asked to display my ID. That feeling that I had every time I cracked open my wallet and flashed it was incredible. Anyway, back to the story. I spent a good amount of money at the driving range, picking up the tab as we heading into downtown DC for the rest of the night.
My friends and I went to Rhino Bar in Georgetown and details after that were very sketchy. Drinks by the handful were getting bought for me and of course, I was pounding them down. But the one thing that I do remember is an amazing story. I was on the bottom floor of the two-story bar with my friend from school, buying drinks for some friends. Suddenly, a nice-looking, sophisticated girl was looking my way and began to talk to me. For it being my first time out in Georgetown, I was quite impressed with myself that a lady began to talk to me. My friend and I began to talk to her and her friend, hoping for the best. When it seemed that her friend wasn't interested, I shifted my attention to the one who was giving me the time of day, not to mention the one with the bigger breasts.
I kept talking to this girl and eventually drank the drinks that I ordered for my friends. Being the stubborn person that I am, my goal that night was to try and get with this girl. Granted I do think with my crotch more than my brain when I'm intoxicated, but damnit I was trying. Some of the pickup lines I was using were like this:
"I may be 21 but I'm all man, baby."
"It's ok if you take advantage of me, I won't mind."
"What happened to your chopsticks?" (Not really.)
I was thinking that I was getting somewhere with these lines when she took me out on the dancefloor. I was feeling pretty good when I was dancing with this fine-ass chick, with boobs that were so big that she had to stop dancing every five minutes to adjust herself. I was freaking it with her since I was hammered, throwing my cautions to the wind. I didn't really care at that point if my friends were looking at me, I was trying hard to get what I wanted. However, shaking my ass like I've got junk in my trunk got nowhere. The next thing I know, some black guy comes in a steals my woman from here and promptly grinds his crotch and gyrates against her ass. It looked a lot like the picture below:
It was all of a sudden. In a moment's time, I went from "Big Pimpin" to "Sleeping Alone Tonight." Damnit, I was so mad. I had convinced my drunken self that she may have been with a black dude before, prompting me to text my friends the question "Is it true that once you go black, you never go back?" I don't know the answers I got back or even what compelled me to do such a thing. My memories of the night are fuzzy at this point, with exception of puking all over my DD's car. I clearly remember upchucking on 395 on the way home.
So here's the thing about the whole post. I know it was a long and boring story, and you probably didn't enjoy it. Is this myth true? I don't hate the guy, he had the same goal in mind that I had. But just the way he came in and seemingly swooped the girl away from me made me realize that maybe my moves aren't hip enough or even my neophytic ways in urban nightlife caught up with me. So readers, answer this? Is it true that once you go black, you never go back, right?
After spending my actual 21st birthday doing nothing but work and volleyball, I had to wait until the end of my swim season to finally celebrate. I went big with the 21st birthday. I set up an event on Facebook, invited everyone I thought would come, and hoped for the best. However, much to my dismay, many of the people that accepted were under 21. The point of inviting them was a joke, but apparently they didn't get that. Regardless of who showed up and who didn't, the 21st birthday party was still off the chain.
I first went with a few of my friends out to a driving range, drinking some brews and hitting some golf balls. I know I sound like a faggot when I wrote that, but its the truth. It felt really empowering to order beers. Especially when I was asked to display my ID. That feeling that I had every time I cracked open my wallet and flashed it was incredible. Anyway, back to the story. I spent a good amount of money at the driving range, picking up the tab as we heading into downtown DC for the rest of the night.
My friends and I went to Rhino Bar in Georgetown and details after that were very sketchy. Drinks by the handful were getting bought for me and of course, I was pounding them down. But the one thing that I do remember is an amazing story. I was on the bottom floor of the two-story bar with my friend from school, buying drinks for some friends. Suddenly, a nice-looking, sophisticated girl was looking my way and began to talk to me. For it being my first time out in Georgetown, I was quite impressed with myself that a lady began to talk to me. My friend and I began to talk to her and her friend, hoping for the best. When it seemed that her friend wasn't interested, I shifted my attention to the one who was giving me the time of day, not to mention the one with the bigger breasts.
I kept talking to this girl and eventually drank the drinks that I ordered for my friends. Being the stubborn person that I am, my goal that night was to try and get with this girl. Granted I do think with my crotch more than my brain when I'm intoxicated, but damnit I was trying. Some of the pickup lines I was using were like this:
"I may be 21 but I'm all man, baby."
"It's ok if you take advantage of me, I won't mind."
"What happened to your chopsticks?" (Not really.)
I was thinking that I was getting somewhere with these lines when she took me out on the dancefloor. I was feeling pretty good when I was dancing with this fine-ass chick, with boobs that were so big that she had to stop dancing every five minutes to adjust herself. I was freaking it with her since I was hammered, throwing my cautions to the wind. I didn't really care at that point if my friends were looking at me, I was trying hard to get what I wanted. However, shaking my ass like I've got junk in my trunk got nowhere. The next thing I know, some black guy comes in a steals my woman from here and promptly grinds his crotch and gyrates against her ass. It looked a lot like the picture below:
It was all of a sudden. In a moment's time, I went from "Big Pimpin" to "Sleeping Alone Tonight." Damnit, I was so mad. I had convinced my drunken self that she may have been with a black dude before, prompting me to text my friends the question "Is it true that once you go black, you never go back?" I don't know the answers I got back or even what compelled me to do such a thing. My memories of the night are fuzzy at this point, with exception of puking all over my DD's car. I clearly remember upchucking on 395 on the way home.
So here's the thing about the whole post. I know it was a long and boring story, and you probably didn't enjoy it. Is this myth true? I don't hate the guy, he had the same goal in mind that I had. But just the way he came in and seemingly swooped the girl away from me made me realize that maybe my moves aren't hip enough or even my neophytic ways in urban nightlife caught up with me. So readers, answer this? Is it true that once you go black, you never go back, right?
Monday, August 25, 2008
Top 10 of Summer 2008 (YAY)
At the request of a loyal commenter who apparently has had enough of my shit (and my lack of updating), I'm officially going back to the grind. Now, summer is over and I'm back at school, so I can no longer use lame excuses about how I'm tired or that I have things to do. So now there's really no excuse for me not to update. So here I am, writing again. Before we get back to my list of 99 things to do before I turn 30, by the way, which I only did two of this summer (Go me!), let me recap my summer, by a top 10 list of memorable moments.
10. Weekend Trip to the Lake.
I spent the night in a car since people don't understand the meaning of "going to bed."
9. Speeding Ticket
Went 53 in a 40. Big deal. I'm sure that the officer was hating on my red 2007 Corolla. Suck it, cop. You drive a Crown Victoria.
8. Broken Tooth
Stopwatch hits my face and cause me to break my tooth in half. Thanks 5 year old ball of mischief, you'll burn in hell for this.
7. Broken Arm
My dad broke his arm this summer. It sucked since he was in the hosptial for a week, but he'll be fine in a few months.
6. Coaches' 100 IM
After talking shit to one of my coaches in practice one day, he challenges me to a race and beats me. However, I would have the last laugh as I smoked him by 5 seconds a week later in the 100 IM
5. The Superhero Falls
Note to self: Never, ever run towards little kids dressed as Batman. You can't see and they'll more than likely punch you in the nuts and beat you to a pulp.
4. Greg Young's Prom Date
I found a prom date for my friend Greg. And he ended up winning prom king. It is probably one of my proudest accomplishments of my life. If only I could get a plaque of it and put it on my wall.
3. Dating Craigslist Girls
You can read the posts. If I had to sum it up in two words: NEVER AGAIN.
2. 21st Birthday
I'll explain this in my next post, because it needs to be mentioned. But it was an amazing night and my Mom cooked a bangin' breakfast the next morning.
1. Swim Coaching
Absolutely loved it. Wouldn't trade that experience for anything in the world.
Yeah, so that was my summer. Now back to finishing this list.
10. Weekend Trip to the Lake.
I spent the night in a car since people don't understand the meaning of "going to bed."
9. Speeding Ticket
Went 53 in a 40. Big deal. I'm sure that the officer was hating on my red 2007 Corolla. Suck it, cop. You drive a Crown Victoria.
8. Broken Tooth
Stopwatch hits my face and cause me to break my tooth in half. Thanks 5 year old ball of mischief, you'll burn in hell for this.
7. Broken Arm
My dad broke his arm this summer. It sucked since he was in the hosptial for a week, but he'll be fine in a few months.
6. Coaches' 100 IM
After talking shit to one of my coaches in practice one day, he challenges me to a race and beats me. However, I would have the last laugh as I smoked him by 5 seconds a week later in the 100 IM
5. The Superhero Falls
Note to self: Never, ever run towards little kids dressed as Batman. You can't see and they'll more than likely punch you in the nuts and beat you to a pulp.
4. Greg Young's Prom Date
I found a prom date for my friend Greg. And he ended up winning prom king. It is probably one of my proudest accomplishments of my life. If only I could get a plaque of it and put it on my wall.
3. Dating Craigslist Girls
You can read the posts. If I had to sum it up in two words: NEVER AGAIN.
2. 21st Birthday
I'll explain this in my next post, because it needs to be mentioned. But it was an amazing night and my Mom cooked a bangin' breakfast the next morning.
1. Swim Coaching
Absolutely loved it. Wouldn't trade that experience for anything in the world.
Yeah, so that was my summer. Now back to finishing this list.
Friday, August 8, 2008
This Thing Still Works?!?!?
Yeah, so those posts that I promised you all, that never happened. In fact, it never got off the ground. I was going to give you guys a little "somethin somethin" to chew over in the sweltering heat, but I never got around to that. Obviously, my job was wayyyyy more important than writing in this shit that no one reads. But now its over and we're t-minus one week until I start my last semester at school. Since I have no work whatsoever and school is starting soon, I imagine I'll be writing in this more often, but we'll see. Also, to those who have been constantly refreshing their pages for the last five weeks in hopes of me writing a post, then I'm sorry. However, you should win something for your due diligence.
Now that I've been gone forever, I feel like I have to reintroduce myself now. As some of you may (or may not) know, I'm Jason, and this blog is a literary adventure about a life list I aspire to complete before I turn 30. Hence the title and the whole purpose of this site. There. I feel much better now about that.
Shit, it's 1:30 on Saturday morning and it's time that I get off this and get a fucking life. Or go to sleep, since my Mom has been keeping tabs on me all summer long. What a great parent. And so with that, I'll be back soon. I promise. I won't leave you in the car like last time.
Now that I've been gone forever, I feel like I have to reintroduce myself now. As some of you may (or may not) know, I'm Jason, and this blog is a literary adventure about a life list I aspire to complete before I turn 30. Hence the title and the whole purpose of this site. There. I feel much better now about that.
Shit, it's 1:30 on Saturday morning and it's time that I get off this and get a fucking life. Or go to sleep, since my Mom has been keeping tabs on me all summer long. What a great parent. And so with that, I'll be back soon. I promise. I won't leave you in the car like last time.
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