Hot Nights

My friends Ramsey and Lucie had a filthy throwdown on Friday night. I drank grain punch like a 20 year old college junior who needs to be outstandingly drunk to approach sorority honies and ask them about their majors. All were drunk and it was wondrous. I punted pumpkins in the middle of the streets of Georgetown. Ramsey called it: "your funniest moment ever". I felt like my funniest moment ever was crashing a party at the Ritz Carlton at 3:30 AM and declaring myself 'the official photographer'. I took pictures of myself and scenery with other people's cameras. Multi-talented...

I met a girl who is the single biggest cock-blocking/fun-sponge/annoying/no one likes her and wonders why she is at the party then you explain why and people are pissed at you because your reason doesn't seem anywhere near good enough to justify this terrible presence at an otherwise fun event. Girls like this make me depressed and sad. She has a boyfriend. I can only assume that he must be without a soul as she burdens him with wild emotional swings, picks fights about minutia, and loudly flirts with every male in sight every time they leave her lair of the black abyss where fun goes to die.

I would rather be beaten in a prison shower with a rusty copper cable while pedophiles and rapists take mental snapshots to interogate their dolphins later in their cells then hang out with that girl ever again. Here's to drunk driving and population control.

I had fun Saturday night teaching dance moves. I am a fantastic dancer with more skills than a juggling decathlete.

The Redskins lost and my anger is naked and unencumbered.

I hate when you order food and the restaurant gets it wrong. It is never worth it to me to fight with the person who's making $8 an hour over whether or not they heard me correctly over the phone. Frustrating. I just make a pouty face and say: "don't worry about it" and sulk out of the place and eat what I didn't want.