Hey Dumbass, Get A Fucking Clue!

Yeah, this one has a title.

I am so sick and tired of getting these stupid emails with ridiculous titles like;

block gustave
hockey player 5343 dilettantes
grizzly polariton knit
turn signal taxidermists near 519
dolphin gonads defined by 45
turn signal 46 hands

Like I'm actually gonna read these stupid things. Oh, let me just open this up right now and see who this "Eugenio Casey" is......

Shit like this gets old fast, although, the "dolphin" one is pretty interesting. Kind of. Okay, not really. They're all just stupid.

More tomorrow, for sure.

I am so sick and tired of this fucking rain already. I hate rain. Rain sucks. You can always move snow out of the way, but, never rain.

I will say that I am grateful that my mom lets me use her car on the weekends. I would have been caught up in a mother of a downpour if she hadn't. We were having our morning meeting at work, and, as the meeting progressed, we noticed the sky suddenly got darker. We knew that whoever came into our store during that heavy rain was certainly there to buy something. Lord knows I wouldn't set foot in a retail store during a downpour. The only place I would go would be a drug store for ultimate necessities, not a retail store for killing downtime.

Well, the rain has struck again, so, I am off to do window duty, to ensure that none of that stuff leaks in here.

Do your own thing and have fun doin' it.

I keep track of so many blogs, I had to go back and create folders for them yesterday.

When I set foot in this community of blog, I only had myself and my current ex. I would wander through the blogger homepage, finding other blogs to check out, while other bloggers found me. It is definitely a very interesting community to say the least.

I will admit that I have not made my visitations known to all of the blogs I read. Why? I guess that I like being a voyeur of sorts. It's like my dirty little secret, and, you'll never know. I could be standing in the grocery store, and, neither you nor I would know whether it's your blog or mine that gets read.

We're all voyeurs like that. We dare not bare ourselves to a total stranger on the street, but, we come here, to our PCs and our little journals, exposing our thoughts and feelings, in a facade of secrecy. We all know that at one point or another, somebody else will watch. It's what fuels us all in the end.

Some of us are more open about the fact that we want someone else to watch than others. In the end we all have our audience, our public, whether it be one person or a hundred. We all do our dance for them, to entertain them, to make them come back for more.

Isn't it funny how some people will have sex with a total stranger long before they seek someone out to learn to love them on the inside. How we guard ourselves so.

Just think, if you ever saw me someplace, would you figure out it's me? Can you pick me out of a crowd just by reading my thoughts on a computer screen? Could I do the same to you? Better yet, if my thoughts and words offended you, would you bother? If you did, would it be to simply bash me with your own insecurities, or, would it be to sit down and get to know the person who wrote those words before you risk the chance of making an ass out of yourself with your insults?

A picture may speak a thousand words, but, what does my blog do for you?

On the Windy City Blogs hit counter, I went from 175th to 41st in several days. So, what is it that got my blog there? How long will it stay there? Why am I asking these questions?

As I listen to Radiohead's "Everything in its right place", I'll say that I've been doing some hardcore thinking about myself.

I want to go out, to start dating again. There is this large piece of me that says I'm ready, but, I don't feel that I am just yet. What's left to convince is that small piece of my heart, the part that keeps telling me that the woman that I should spend the rest of life with is the one I broke up with in January. Then I ask myself why I should think that she is the one for me. The list of responses keeps getting longer and longer, the answers simply becoming more clear as they become easier to find.

It's that piece that she helped me find, that last nook, the hidden corner of my heart that had never seen light before, let alone felt loved.

There hides the fear that I may never find real love again, that it will never be seen, never again bathe in the warmth of love. The rest of me screams at it, trying to make it understand that it never will get what it wants if chances are left unchosen, moments left unseized and risks left untaken.

Perhaps if I stopped screaming, I wouldn't be so afraid.



Wow. I think I just shocked myself.

Times like this I am grateful I have hormones that go into overdrive sometimes. The overdrive forces me take a mental step back to see what is and is not really there. This was one of those times.




Well, let me divert my attention for a moment, and, speak to something that has been a buzz for the past week. Apparently, Andy Kaufman has returned. Or not. Or he has. I'll go along for the ride to see what happens. Considering that the press hasn't been all "up on it", so to speak, I'll be a gleeful pessimist.

For the comic genius this guy was, I think he would have found some other way to let the world know he was alive. The blog in his name is incredibly bland and lame. It reminds me of tomato soup; no flavor or spice. You drink it only when you have to, not because you like it. Considering the last entry was almost a week ago, I'm not so sure it's real.

The media outlet that gave the story to Yahoo has placed the story on "Dispute Hold". The same release that said that DNA test results proved to a 99% accuracy that the guy was in fact Andy Kaufman.

I think this is a ploy to get some promo for Taxi being released on DVD. I don't have a release date yet, but, I'm sure that I'll have something if this crap keeps up.

I'm suffering from brain farts right now. I'll be back on later, I'm sure, and, more to say, just not about Andy.

So, another night, another weird dream.

This is a very vivid image. I'm sitting in front of my computer, and, someone puts my hands on the keyboard. I realize that I can't use them. I am able to move my hands up and down the keyboard, and, but I can't press any one key.

I hear someone behind me laughing. I start crying, saying "You did this to me. You made me like this." But, I'm not saying it normally. I'm having a hard time moving my mouth, and, the words don't come out clearly; my speech is slurred.

It is then I realize that I am in a wheelchair, and, I am turned around to see a woman laughing at me, talking to me in a condescending tone, her talk along the lines of mocking the fact that I can't type, and, that no one will ever know how I treat her.

I forced myself to wake up, just to make sure that it really was a dream. I didn't go back to sleep for another two hours.

I think that it's hormones. I usually can't sleep for the two or three days before I have my period. That's all I'll say about it.

Work was weird today. My GM decided to open the store an hour early because LOTR:ROTK came out today. Yeah, we opened up an hour early for a whopping 10 customers. Easily at least an extra $100 in manpower for nothing. That doesn't include the people already scheduled. What a waste.

At least I got my copy. I came home, popped it in and watched/bawled my eyes out. It's such an emotional story, I can't help but cry. Especially at the end of the Battle of Pellenor Fields. And, at every scene after Frodo and Sam are rescued by Gandalf and the eagles. I will say that I wished they had elaborated a little more when Aragorn went into the mountain to get the help of the Army of the Dead. But, alas, I will wait until the extended DVD comes out in December. And yes, I do have both the theatrical and extended versions of the first two movies.

Fun stuff. I'm sitting here, realizing that I missed a "training" at work today. BooHoo. Oh poor me. Wah wah. Whatever.

I've been having some pretty weird dreams the past couple of nights. I'm sure they totally have to do with the creme I'm using for my ezcema. It's a steroid creme. I've been feeling more level-headed than normal; I also did not go into a hissy fit when I realized that I could not go out last night. Good thing.

The weather here was horrible. I had to go get my mom last night. At the intersection of Dundee and Skokie Blvd, it was flooded. I had to drive through very slowly. Anyone who has a Saturn coupe knows that they have very low clearance. Some jackoff in a Toyota went speeding past me, creating a wave that freaked me out.

I digress. One dream that has been particularly bothering me is one where I am a guy who is being held against his will somewhere small; the room I was in was bland, done in shades of gray and black.

I remember a voice coming out of a speaker saying "If you keep acting up, you'll have to eat the gum. You won't get your shot either." At that moment there is a "memory" flashed in front of my eyes, showing "me" throwing up some thick black stuff while two other people try to hold me up.

I then leave the room, and, find myself walking down this hallway, smiling as the rays of sun touched me. Then I woke up.

Uber weird.

I had several more last night, but, I can't conjure them up right now. I'm sure I will be able to tomorrow.

The sun is finally shining, finally. Good thing I only have one load of laundry to do, and, some dishes. My mom was nice enough to make spaghetti before she left to spend the weekend with her boyfriend. I have lunch and dinner for the next several days. I've decided that if the weather cooperates, I'll be doing some BBQ-ing tomorrow. My ex didn't take the small grill she bought, nor did she ask for it. I'll be enjoying it, thank you.

My mom was trying to talk about apartment hunting in the car again last night. She was still talking about three bedrooms, and, I still shot her down.

Someone called here this morning leaving a message for me, probably someone who thinks I owe them money. That's why I'm in Chp. 13 bankruptcy, dumbass. I don't owe anybody money.

I'm feeling a bit weird today. I'm a little tired, even after 9 hours of sleep. I'm sure it has to nothing do with the Venti Mocha Frappiccino I had yesterday morning.

I love iced coffee drinks, perhaps a bit too much for my own good. I need to get my ass in gear, and, buy some stuff for my mom's car. She has a brake light out, and, needs new wiper blades. She'd drive her car into the ground if I wasn't around, or, would probably just call me up, expecting me to take care of it.

And I'm off. I'll be back for more later. I have to go and get my copy of the new Morrissey CD.

Remember kiddies, Morrissey is not a man that has resolved himself to seclusion, he's a service bottom that hasn't found the right top, yet.

So, on Tuesday, after hurrying up out of work, and, taking not one, but, two taxis to get to the dermatologist's office on time, I sit in one of his "rooms" for about 3 minutes.

The doctor comes in, looks at my foot for 6 seconds (yes, I did count) and says "Ezcema!"

I guess that the look of bewilderment on my face reflected my state of mind; I was thinking, "This is isn't Harry Potter motherfucker, this is my foot. So, what's wrong with my foot, genius?"

"You have ezcema. I'm going to prescribe a cream for you, and, I want to see you in two weeks." He takes a piece of paper off the desk, and, hands it to me. "Oh, by the way, stop wrapping your foot up, it will keep causing the infections you're getting. It needs as much air as possible."

He then leaves the office to tend to his other patients.

I'm sitting there in utter shock. That's it? A total of 30 seconds to figure that out. What the fuck? A condition that has been bothering me for nearly six months, and, it's ezcema?!?!

I felt violated, like I wasn't getting the $20 I had to pay to see him. I wanted to go back, grab him, and make him do a dance for me or something to get my money's worth.

I should have figured it out when I was sitting in the waiting area. I saw people parade in and out, like cattle to the slaughter. Mostly vain teenagers, with one or two pimples on their face, thinking that the the ol' doc could do something about that. Eh, no kiddies. Deal: I did.

So, after leaving, I waited almost an hour for a bus to finally show up. Then I got to my street, and, waited two more hours for another to show up. I actually called RTA to find out when the bus was planning on showing up. I let them know that both myself and another woman had waited for that long. Her response "Well, there must be some traffic problem. The buses on that route run every 45 minutes. I'm sorry about that."

"So, what you're telling me is that you have no idea what is going on."

"Like I said, there has to be a traffic issue." Gee bitch, sorry to inconvenience you; it's not like it's your job or anything.

Five minutes later, not one, but two buses show up.

I was pissed. And freezing. I just wanted to get home.

Pace sucks. CTA is soooo much better. And reliable. At least in the burbs anyway.

Again, apologies for the lapse. Good thing is that I spoke to my attorney, and, I should be getting the title to my car back in the next two weeks. I'm hoping to sell it for at least $300. Hoping.

So, I had an interesting day yesterday. It started with me dropping off my mom at work. On my way home, I was able to stop off and grab something to eat. After the pit stop, I headed over to the AT&T Wireless store across from the Old Orchard Mall. I finally replaced the old Nokia 5560 phone that I had with a new 6620. Beautiful phone. Not mine, but, still beautiful phone. I let my mom use that account.

So, I walk in, and, there were two women behind the counter. One really cute straight girl, and, a woman who totally screamed "lesbo". Every chance she got, she kept checking me out; then again, I did the same to her. She was cute, but, not my type. She was taller than me and gave off a butch vibe. Definitely friend material though, and, cute. I said that already, didn't I?

I headed out to my job to return some stuff that I had bought, only to turn around and spend it at Jewel. I have enough yogurt, pop and fruit to last me through the end of this week.

So, my day goes on, blah, blah. I go to pick up my mom, and take her to her bf's house. I drive back, and play catch-up with four VHS tapes of shows that I couldn't watch. Around 1:20 this morning, I was getting ready for bed, and, the phone rings. It's my mom. She wants me to drive over and bring her home. Great, fucking great. I finally get up there at a little after 2, and, she's bringing everything to the car, and, steps back inside to yell at her bf some more. An hour later, she steps back out, apologizing for asking me to drive all the way up there in the first place. She gives me $20 to do whatever I want with. I filled up her gas tank and bought some Mickey D's.

As I finally get back around 4am, I sat down to eat my very late dinner/very early breakfast, I notice something on the bag. Happy Meals for Adults. Yeah, right. I read the side of the bag, and, it's a salad, some sport drink and a timer to wear while walking with some booklet about losing weight.

Let's break this down, shall we?

Happy Meal for Adults. This is an oxymoron. Do you know of any happy adults that eat at McDonald's, with the exception of the homeless people who grab the coffee cups out of the trash? I've never seen anybody happy there. It's usually people that want something to eat fast, something to eat while they're driving home, or something to shut their kids up. There is nothing happy about any of those scenarios. Having worked in a McDonald's drive thru myself, the only happy people I ever saw were the dirty old men trying to pick me up.

And let's face it, if you are a single adult like me, the only way you'd be leaving happy is if you're going home with your dream date for sex, or, if there is something in that bag that either vibrates or you can blow up.

Lose weight at McDonald's? Um, yeah.......
When I decided to work on my weight, McDonald's was the first place I thought of. To NOT go to anymore. Big Macs have never helped me lose weight. I've never worked towards super-sized fries as my reward. Ick. Isn't this the same place that got sued for making people fat?

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

But that woman at AT&T is still cute, though.....

I'm gonna stop.

So, yeah. My car is worse than I originally thought. I somehow dragged it in for a diagnostic, and, it turns out that three of the six fuel injectors need to be replaced. The last time I had all six replaced, it came out to be a $1600 bill that I was able to whittle down to $950. My entire family was in good with the store management, since we took all of the family cars there. This was also about 8 years ago. Who knows how much it would cost now. I didn't even ask for a quote, I just paid for the diagnostic, and, managed to get the car back home.

Now, it's time for the calls to the insurance company, and, then someplace to get the thing towed out of my space in the garage. My landlady will be so happy; she's losing $75 bucks a month in rent. I'll have to spend the rest of the day cleaning out the car, and, salvaging whatever I can, like my deck and speakers. One of the outputs on my amp is shot, so, I'll be leaving it in there.

I'll have to borrow my mom's car when I can. The thing that sucks is that it has a nearly full tank of gas. I have to call up my mechanic brother and see how I can get the gas out of there. At $2.32 a gallon, I'm not giving that away.

Taking the bus won't be so bad either. The bus I need to take is a block from my house, and, it stops off three blocks from my job, so, it's all good. Getting a little exercise will help with those last 10 pounds I need to lose. Between the insurance money I'll get back, gas I won't be buying anymore, and, insurance that I don't use, I'll have the money that I need to buy another car with by the end of the year. I could also hold off and wait until my refund comes in, which will be more cash for another car.

Anyways, other than that, nothing exciting is happening to me. I've been enjoying the nicer weather, and, I am looking forward to my appointment with the allergist on Tuesday. Hopefully, the good doctor can make this thing go away for good.

Someone's is always beating me to it. This is exactly what I was thinking on my way to work this morning. Bravo to Dr. Robert Bowman for writing it.

A big bravo.

Just tab down past the pics, and, you'll see it.

This new blogger layout is weird. It kinda feels like livejournal, but, I like blogger better. I like the fact that I get an infinite number of responses to my posts, as I've received none from livejournal. Probably doesn't help that all I did was whine and complain about being single, while giving myself intermittent pats on the back for no reason.

So, finally, after four months of waiting, I received an email today saying that I have been excepted into the Windy City Bloggers Ring. I'm sure it has nothing to do with the comment at the header of my blog. I'll leave it up there for a few more days.

I'm currently experiencing car problems. My car died in traffic without warning. Thank God there was a red light, or, I would have had some really pissed off people honking their horns at me. Nothing better than having a stalled car on Touhy Ave at 3pm. For those you who don't know the suburbs really well, Touhy Ave is Skokie's equivalent to Belmont Ave in Chicago. It's always busy and is constantly being repaved.

It's good that my problem isn't as big as I thought. Turns out I just need a new fuel filter. Problem is that the guys at Pep Boys wouldn't touch it because the line running from the gas tank to the filter is rusted over. Fun stuff. To boot, I just filled up my gas tank. I'm sure they'll have so much fun when I take it in.

Other than that, I've been enjoying the nice weather we've been having, although I am more of a Fall/Early Spring kind of woman. I love snow but I hate rain. As long as I can shovel it out of my way, I'm fine. Unfortunately, you can't do that with rain.

Other than that, I bought the new Speed Racer DVD. It is a limited edition one that when you press on a spot, the Speed Racer theme would play, along with the headlights on the Mach 5 flashing. Cool, yet dorky at the same time. I've been a Speed Racer fan since I was a kid. I even bought the CD single of "Speed" done by a group named "Alpha Team".

It's silly, I know, but, I do have a comeback for whenever people feel compelled to say something about it. I always ask "Would you rather I like Speed Racer, or heroin?"

I spent a shiteload of money today. Between bills, necessities and savings, it disappeared. Poof! Money has a way of doing that.

Van Helsing is not worth $9. Twilight showing for $5.50, yes, but not $9. It's a special effects driven stylized thrill ride, but, not much on substance.

After making the frightening connection between Gigli and Chasing Amy, somebody out there thinks Ben Affleck is the world's savior for all of us evil lesbians. He's not. I will speak to that later on today. It is technically Saturday, so, later on today fits just right.

Changing up a few things around here.

My bedroom is still clean. I can still see my desk. Wow, even I'm shocked.

More later.

With "Extraordinary" from Liz Phair's new CD in rotation, I begin.

I have the biggest smile on my face. Why? Because I just received the biggest f*cking bonus I have ever seen. Turns out supervisors get year end bonuses in my company. Too bad since I'm no longer a sup, but, I'll have a very nice weekend, and, a nice chunk of dough to put into my savings account, which will delay my search for a second job for about a month, but, I'll have to get my ass in gear. All the kids are getting out of school soon, and, I have to keep up.

I'm not watching the Friends finale; I won't subject myself to it. Just in case any of my wonderful readers just happen to miss it, it will be available next Tuesday on DVD. Sick, I say, just sick.

I've just finished off my second glass of wine, so, forgive me if this seems weird, long, stupid or incomprehensible. I'm shocked that I could even spell that last word without having to hit the backspace button on my keyboard. Shocked, I say.

I'm finding myself smiling a lot more at work, and, just in general. Despite the $4 an hour paycut, I'm happier now. I just got home from working a 12 hour day, and, I'm still pacing the floor. With the warmer weather, I definitely will be using this energy to walk around the neighborhood. Perhaps I will then lose the extra 6 pounds I'm looking to rid myself of. I still haven't opened up that stupid Pilates DVD I bought. I totally have to start doing that. I just wrote totally. I warned about the stupidity.

One thing that has been on my mind is the whole fuss that was Unreal Tournament 2004. Geeks came from all around the town to buy this game. I'm not talking about those stereotypical geeks you saw in the Revenge of the Nerds franchise, I'm talking about the ones who are so fat, they probably haven't been able to look down at their feet or their cock in years. The ones who grow a beard to hide their really bad acne, and, think that they look good with ponytails. The ones who have macho screen names like "The Terminator" or "Iceman" or "AK47 killa" or some stupid name like that.

If I had the means, I'd like to get that game, ask everybody at work for every cheat code, and then hop online with a screen name like "Joanna" or "Marisa" and just beat them all to a pulp. Then again, I'm still sitting here with a 98SE Pentium III 20 GB PC with dial-up. I'm lucky if I can get online most days. I guess it's a matter of priorities. I'm trying to lose 6 pounds, and, those hardcore gamers gain 6 just playing online for a day.

Don't ask me why I feel like doing that. I have too much brain activity and not enough stimulation. There are times I talk to myself. I've been told that as long as I don't answer, I'm sane. I'm leaning towards disagreeing, but, if the argument keeps me looking "normal", I'm all for it.

My mother came home at some UnGodly hour. Why UnGodly? Because I didn't hear her come in, and I'm naturally a light sleeper. Why the capitals? Because I'm a baptized Roman Catholic. Baptized, not practicing. Roman Catholics have huge issues with gays. Don't get me started with that. I could write a novel about that. I won't start. Don't you start either.

My landlady is trying to sell the building again. Yes, again. She's tried to sell it before. Three other times to be exact. She bought it a year before my mom and I moved in, for kristsakes. Sheesh. I remember looking at the apartment, and, there was still dust on the floor from the remodeling.

I guess this is what happens when you buy a building, then two years later, start your own business (doctor's office), then buy yourself a condo in one of the most expensive suburbs, Schaumburg.

She wasn't just trying to have her cake and eat it too, she was trying to eat it after finishing a five course meal. She's got a big mouth, but, obviously not a big brain.

My apologies for being neglectful of my blog. I work Sundays through Thursdays, so, my mind is usually focused on repairing damage done, or, planning ahead, since I literally have free reign at work. My sup doesn't even followup on me; I tell him what I've done, and, he accepts. He should be grateful it's me and not somebody else. I worked a 12 hour day today, and, it shows.

Whatever.

I'm going to shut up now, and, try to be better about this thing.

I just realized something. I think my therapist is playing a game with me. I'll explain tomorrow.

Toodles for now.

So, after my session today, I've been thinking.

I can't get that butch swagger out of my head. Why? Well, I hope to find out.

It's just that it was so blatant, so obvious. So butch. I wanted to walk up to her and ask her if she forgot that her cock goes down in front, not up her ass.

But, it's something more. I've been tossing it around in my head, and, I've realized why it's been there. She wore her butchness like a fag wears his feather boa. Proud and high.

I guess it all goes back to me finding me.

Before I met my ex, I was so sure of myself that I probably would have dressed like a gangsta until the day I died. It doesn't really work on anybody past fifty.

Baggy clothes, everything at least two sizes bigger than it needed to be.

Then she said something to me that really touched a nerve; she said to me that I was hiding myself. She was right; I felt incredibly comfortable being mistaken for a man, my sex ambiguous to those around me. It was a great safety net. It kept everybody that much further away from me.

At my session today, I made a revelation. I realized that up until my ex, I had been protecting myself from everyone and everything. I never even bothered to look for the middle ground that most people wander on, where they are secure enough to let people in, and then let their heart and mind sort the people from there. I never wanted anybody to get in.

My ex found a way to get past all that. How, I will never know, unless I go and ask her. Like she would ever tell. What if she couldn't even answer that truthfully? What if she doesn't even know? I would be off again, on my journey to find that middle ground, to find me. I know if I find me, then I can find friends again. I can let people in again, that I'll never be alone.

Part of getting in was coaxing me to sacrifice my "butch" self to find "me". Looking back, I never truly felt comfortable hiding myself. The longer I go without that "shelter" the more I've begun to hate it. I would love to take everything that I ever bought that was too big and burn it all, as a ritual of "passage" into my new self.

Unfortunately, my current finances can't allow it. I have to work with what I have. I have to buy a new piece here and there, the new way to express "me" , bits and parts of a puzzle that is still being put together, and, quite honestly, may never be finished.

It's a risk that we all take, and, some people finish more of the puzzle than others. But does finishing the puzzle make you a better person? Does it heal the wounds of the past? Will it guarantee you a long and prosperous life?

What does it mean to really finish the puzzle? Why are we working towards such a goal in the first place? What would happen if we don't? What would happen if we never tried?

Hmmmm. Enough brain work for now. I have to go make dinner, and, leftovers will be my lunch for tomorrow. Yipee.

By the way, Dannon Frusion Smoothies rock! I would trade in six doughnuts for it, even if they were Krispy Kreme doughnuts. Especially the tropical fruit ones.

Cheetos, Brownies & Coffee; Powerball Anyone?

Pool night was a disaster. A big, huge, fucking disaster.

Out of a group of several hundred women, only nine showed up. Even the woman who planned it wanted to back out.

To boot, it was soooooooooooooooo dead. Never, ever go to Temps on a Friday night. Saturday nights only from now on. Lots of very nice eye candy and great music to shake your ass to. Although I will say their defense they were playing some pretty good music last night. There were a total of 30 people in the bar, including the nine of us. Sad, very sad.

Although D and I had fun. First it was "Are you guys dating? You're always together." Obviously I need to work on my friendship circle.

Then it was a woman that I'll call "T". "T" was a complete riot. Let me start from the beginning.

When she was introduced to me, she made it a point to hold on to my hand a little too long. As in "hey, can I take you home?" length of time. Already it was just like "ick, please get away from me. NOW!" After a few moments, she swaggered on over to me, while I was moving to the music. I had to stop myself from laughing simply because of the swagger. For those of you that have never seen a butch dyke swagger, let me explain it to you. The best way to describe it is that it's a cross between a cowboy swagger and a jive strut. It's just hilarious.

So, as the night went on, "T" began to realize that she wasn't going to be taking me or D home, she went to work on other women in the bar. After a while, she reappeared on our side of the bar with a woman, whom I'm sure that she impressed with the fact that she was going to have a limo pick her up at 2am. Woohoo. Whoopie. Whatever.

While D and I were playing darts, T was going to work on ol girlie girl. As she moved back from T, T went down on her and put her mouth right over girlie girl's crotch. D and I saw that and just laughed uncontrollably. Too funny. T spent the rest of the night working on that girl so hard, it was pathetic. And funny. Mostly pathetic. And sad.

D and I decided to leave around 1, the place was soooo dead. So, as we walked to the car, we got the wonderful idea to drive to Wisconsin for Powerball tickets. So, we did.

After about an hour, a gas stop and coffee, Cheetos and a Brownie, we were in the lovely land of CheeseHeads Galore. Mind you, D is a Packers fan, and, should be shot, but, loved it anyway.

So, it's a little after 2, and, we end up finding out that the Powerball machines don't open back up until 4am, so, our trip was for naught.

Still, it was a good trip. Powerball or not.

So, I finally got dropped off at a little before 3, and, D got home around a quarter to 4.

It was fun.

On a sad note, today I received my copy of EW, I began to flip through the pages only to discover that Mariska Hargitay is now engaged. She is marrying a guy younger than her, I'll give her that.

But, alas, I must now find another unmarried beauty to fixate myself to.

Sad, sad day.

Gimme two days and I'll be over it. Trust me.