Affording the Rock N Roll Lifestyle

So I was telling the Director and one of the grad students about how I was turned into a 16 year-old this weekend. You know a good chuckle for work. Well, the grad student then turns to me and says, you could definitely pass for mid-twenties but not 16.

Oh good. I could pass for my own age. Does that mean I don’t look my age? Do I look 30? WTF! That story got promptly retired.

I am worth $1,381,410 on HumanForSale.com from Ultra-Fitness Matt who contemplated going as a sexual predator this Halloween.

Halloween 2005

Since when did I become 16 again?

Today was interesting. Got up, Gretchen still smelled of burnt fish, went to work, went to lunch with Ginger–mmmm Barberitos, picked up Ginger’s wee ones from school, & went to a museum.

Okay, there is a bit more to it than that. First of all I had a Heavy D burrito, which is a burrito with all the good stuff on it. Second of all, when we picked up Ginger’s kids it was weird. They had them locked behind the bicycle racks and they radioed up to tell the kids that their ride was here. I’m pretty sure that unless someone calls and informs the school that someone other than Parent A or Parent B is picking them up they wouldn’t release them. The children waiting looked so sad, trapped there in the little playpen of bicycle racks.

We met Ms. Leslie at the local museum for a tour. Now I’ve been hearing about this museum for ages from my boss. And believe me it was interesting. First of all the kids had no desire to sit there and listen to this guy yap on and on. Then what he was saying. It was neat really, it was like he just avoided the history of real people and only gave the history of the wealthy. He showed us a “middle class” farm house from the 1850s. Now, I’m no genius, but I’m pretty sure that most middle class people of the time did not have glass windows, brick fireplaces, and ceilings in their houses. Just a thought really.

Plus the really great part was he though that Ginger was my mum. Now to make that even possible you’d have to make me about 16 or so and add a couple of years to her. I just don’t see it.

Oh, Gretchen still smells of burnt fish, even though I’ve frebreezed, ousted, and removed all burnt fish and burnt fish juice. Drat.

Damn It

Stupid stupid stupid. Microwave 10 fish sticks for 3 minutes NOT 3 fish sticks for 10 minutes. Microwaving them for 10 minutes will burn them and break the plate.

The victim said that the two of them have had problems in the past

I would hope so, as random machete attacks are rather passe.

Sunday Bloody Sunday

Sunday morning included a trip to the Waffle Shop and relaxing. Well, we did watch Harold & Kumar. Around 2ish “Mutha-Fuckin” Chris and Deep South Wesley came over and we ventured out to Pebble Hill (warning: music). Okay Pebble Hill is more of what I would call a summer home. Perhaps maybe a hunting lodge. I learned what Plantations are now–not at all what I thought they were…seeing how I thought they were gone.

I was a bit disappointed, but that’s okay. We went to Barberitos for dinner, then back to Gretchen. We had a nice conversation till MF Chris & Deep South Wesley called it a night. Trish & I then killed the bottle of tequila I had.

Good times.

S.A.T.U.R.D.A.Y. Night

Saturday morning we went to the Waffle Shop for crappy coffee and breakfast followed by the grand tour of my library and university in general. Saturday was the culmination of the homecoming festival and the king and queen were announced during the half time of the men’s game. My student did not win, but it was still a good showing. The men ended up losing the game, but the captain of the opposing team was HOT. He kept yelling at the line ref in a super sexy Scottish accent.

Trish & I left after the men’s game because we were hungry. We went to Beef’s for lunch and a couple of beers. Then returned to Gretchen for a disco nap. Muther-Fuckin Chris called and we plotted for Sunday. Trish & I decided to saddle up and go back to Foggy Bottom to get our drink on and play some more pool (small tables).

We ended up playing some regulars and doing quite well. At least until I scratched on the eight ball after my 5 drink or so. Oops. I remember playing darts and closing the bar out again–hey it closes at midnight on Saturdays–ending with whiskey. Doh.

I believe I may have drunk dialed a few people on the way home. Sorry JennieD if I was incredibly annoying. I made myself another drink and promptly passed out.

Go Figure

Looks like Apple is equally evil.

Did you know it is possible to be a middle-class elitist?