Beery, Bleary, and Weary

It only took 10 hours but it looks like my hangover is finally abating. It's a good thing that I rested up last weekend, because I needed all my energy to make it through this one. I started early this week w/lots 'o Guinness Thursday night w/my new partner in crime, Mikey. My favorite bar in San Marcos just wasn't the same when I didn't have anyone to share it with, so I'm happy that I can once again drink copious amounts of beer, listen to some decent tunes, and talk about shit that doesn't really matter with great company.

Friday night I had anticipated getting together with an old contact from A&M, but after the initial invite, I didn't hear from him again. It's all for best because he had crossed some lines before. There are some things lower than a married man with kids hitting on you, but most of those will get you arrested, as well should be the case. I ended up laying low at my pad in San Marcos, drinking a whole mess of natty light, and engaging in adult e-mails until the wee hours of the morning. Hey, I'm still staying true to my "no more dirty pics" policy! Baby steps!

And last night I went to Austin to join Katie for a house gathering for game night (house party always makes me think of that Kid n' Play movie). Maybe next time we'll actually get around to playing games, but I had a great time anyway. There was one strange thing about the night though. Most everyone had gone home but I was going to stay in Austin w/Katie. Katie goes to bed, but there are still about 5 people there and they're all guys that I don't know. For some weird reason two things immediately happened: I began to make popcorn and any other snack I could get my hands on (though it was not my food I was serving) b/c I knew they were hungry, and then after that for some really strange reason I got….scared. I mean, not for my safety or anything, but I suddenly felt really drunk and inadequate and I didn't want to make an ass out of myself in front of all those guys I didn't know. I'm chalking it up to the amount of ganja in the air because as everyone knows, beer does the exact OPPOSITE to me; I don't give a shit what people think of me, and no matter how stupid I sound, when I'm boozy I'll talk to anyone. Oh well, it was probably just a blip. Or I got slipped some wacky tabacky; that stuff makes me paranoid.

OK, I guess I've kept up the suspense long enough….the mad bomber in my apartment complex DID get dressed down with a sign, but it was not of my making. Mid week I saw that a piece of paper was tucked beneath both heaping piles of doo with the following message: "Hey Asshole. PICK UP YOUR SHIT!" Not as pithy as MY idea, but it either resonated with the culprit or a do-gooding peace maker who just decided to get it out of the way. I vote for the latter; anyone who let their dog shit right outside someone's door and not pick up it up on their own accord probably doesn't care that some stranger called him/her an asshole. I do regret not getting a picture of it though, because I've always wanted to contribute to this site: www.passiveaggressivenotes.com. My lease isn't up until May, so I'm sure I'll get my chance.