Not an Elvis man...

My life is like some sort of sitcom. Or hidden camera show. Stupidly amusing and always unpredictable.

I have been partying like a rock star for the last few weeks. It has to stop immediately. I go through phases where I won’t want to see anyone at all, and then I go through others where I can’t stand being at home. Obviously, lately the case has been the latter.

Tiff was in town again this weekend. She showed up with a bottle of Captain Morgan and a plan to make a CD, which would be composed of songs that remind us of our three year roomie-hood. A list was made, the CD never happened. But lots of other things did. All weekend.

I spoke to Pinhead for the first time since November. He was drunk and I was feeling charitable, so I resisted the urge to punch him in the face. And it turned out okay. Nobody got hurt and there was a little dancing, even. But again, when the bar closed, the madness ensued. We piled entirely too many people into Tiff’s car and set out for my apartment. The truth is though, I don’t think we had planned to go back to my apartment, but things happen and we never stick to a plan. So there we were. Eight people and a bottle of Jagermeister. The perfect ingredients for debauchery. It really wasn’t all bad. Pookie met a boy. Becca picked up some random dude…(which is not unusual for Becca)…Bob and Tiff slept on the couch like kittens.

Sleep. What a nice thought. Too bad it is Monday. Too bad I don’t get off of work for another seven hours. Too bad the coffee does nothing.

Yesterday was full of sun, strange people, bear hugs and compliments from some boys with dread locks. I have been promised that I will be able to play a Jimi Hendrix guitar solo with my teeth by the end of the week, provided I get an amp. I have laughed so hard that it hurt. I have been accosted in the bathroom by a girl who tried to get my phone number and looked like she was going to cry when she was telling me about her lack of girlfriends. I have seen two faces that I hadn’t seen in years. I have referred to someone as “toothless thong lady”. It was a full weekend. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to perfect the art of sleeping with my eyes open.