Wednesday

So have you ever had one of those days, where you get off work at eleven o'clock, feeling like one of Calvin's snow men, in terror and agony about the futile life you live, and so pissed off about it that the only thing to do is to pack your lunch for tomorrow, slam two Bacardi Razz's, hop into bed and read post-apocalyptic sci-fi serials until you can't hold your eyes open anymore?

And then you wake up the next day, trying to remember the dream you had, whistling to yourself, hair sticking straight-the-hell up (like you like it) and thinking, "I should blog about the uncanny human ability to separate the punishments of yesterday from the promise of tomorrow."

Has that ever happened to you?

Me too.

Cleanroom Rantings

So, as it turns out, leftover Uncle Bills' pancakes, sausage, bacon, eggs, and fried chicken is a delicious mistake. AKA Heartburn Central. But it was fun while it lasted. Also, little known fact, the open sign at 3am on the Vietnamese sandwich place is gloriously deceiving to drunk-Us. (drunk-Us is hyphenated for a reason people. Keep up. It's called rhythm*.)

Well, the Pabsts were cold and cheap, the conversation relatively obscene, and the music good enough to thump in my seat. Last night equals a sucessful Monday. Thanks Kyle and K.

-Junk

P.S. KB's eye was less swollen - from when his bony-assed friend was thrown bony-ass first into him whilst breaking into a CWE pool a la 4am-get-stuck-like-a-pig-on-the-fence style. That happened at the old place once, and I pulled the guy off. Gross. I didn't even know his name. But it didn't happen this time; because I manhandled John-John thighs and got man-glittered in the process. Left 'em a present, too. My least favorite Calvin Kline whitey-tighties were found by some erstwhile poolman early Sunday morning. Enjoy, poolman, enjoy.

*Great scrabble word.

Guess who had Sparks last night...

That's right. In a paper bag and everything.

So I picked up Edo last night and he was already done. With a D. We went to Westport, never a good idea, and JC- who stills claims to be better than a puppy - decides shes going to hit on girls for us. Except that E's wasted and I'm Sparky and we do NOT look like guys that should be having a hot girl talk to girls for us. Or maybe we do. But the music was good and then we went to the CWE and embarrassed ourselves in front of all Karens friends and coworkers. And when I say us I mean ME. It was great. We got home and Karen made delicious duck confit spring rolls, which are, unsuprisingly, awesome drunk food. Now its rent paying time (in more ways than one) and that means stepping into an oven. Goodbye sweat. It was nice having you inside my body.