Monday, January 10, 2005

door prizes. 1.10.05

wherein our hero slides, skips, and eats his way through a saturday

i'd like to tell you about the great progress in my novel, or how i managed to finish the work for my internship before the morning, and sent it before anyone got in. but if i said all that i would be lying.

i spent sunday thinking about reading and watching football. even though my two favorite teams played on saturday and sunday evening's game featured two of the worst defenses in the league. what the game lacked in stopping power it made up for in the minnesota victory and in the pretend pull-down-pants-and-moon moment from randy moss. awesome.

sunday was spent a touch hung over; the elvis wine, the other wine, and the vodka didn't lay me out but combined with getting home after 5 am and waking up around 10 am, i was in no great shape for nothing.

you're all curious now. elvis wine, got home late. you want lewd and lascivious stories. well, lean back, you pervs. there's none of those on this web log.

but eben/ myself/ nikki g/ liezl/ ahm/ katie g (no relation to nikki) celebrated deb's birthday and elvis' birthday in her and her boy lawrence's home. we brought appetizers, from something involving rosemary and potatoes in a flat bread/ pie form to meat in pastry to be eaten with ketchup to venison jerky. mmm, jerky. i made badass oatmeal raisin cookies with rummed-up raisins. but the ginger covered up the taste. we also played yahtzee (play it yourself). it was my first time-- easy to learn and an excuse to toss oversized dice at eben.

i left to answer allegations that i was a punkass (i skipped out on dancing over new year's, hence-- punkass). on the soho streets i checked my phone and my favorite team was putting the whuppin' on the san diego football club. that prompted a call to guy morgan who was at the game, peeing in his seat while his team gagged on their season's success. his lamentations and hope against hope caused me belly laughs.

down in brooklyn i found myself at southpaw. at one point in the night, so did cappy/ ali-pack/ sarah carolan (marla - we will all hang out one day)/ arroz/ sixo/ a couple of other kids, and my new friend phuong. the vodka was free for a little bit, the dancing was old school and shifted to the dancehall favorites. we tore that place up, yo. making friends wherever we go. the place was a great dork fest, square rims and curly hair all up in that mother. and now ali-pack and cappy can't call me no kind of punk ass. phuong and i closed out the joint, i went home. because that's what good boys do.

after spending much of the day hating how microsoft word and my laptop do not agree with each other, i think i will play with the voices. i'll have them read my story to me all robotic-like. mac users- do any of y'all know how i can get new voices? i want george clinton's voice. or billy dee williams' voice.

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