We Multiply Like We Mathmetice

Happy Canada Day! What better way to celebrate than by saying the words, "eh" and "washroom." I will drink some Molson Ice for all of Canada tonight. Also I will look at your awesome flag and dream that it is my flag.

I'm pretty sure I've caught the first American case of Bird Flu. Ahem, Avian Flu virus. I'm dizzy, hot, and have only had 3 delicious G2 Gatorade Fierces. Oh no, it's not G2! What a bitch. You damn dirty..what was I saying? Yes.

Sine I was having people over last night, I decided that I actually had to make my apartment look presentable. Maybe pick up my socks form the living room. Maybe actually do the dishes. Use toilet paper. You know the usual stuff. There's only one place in the world to go to when you need cleaning supplies on the cheap. Only one.

The 99 cent store.

Is there any better place on Earth? Where else can you get toilet cleaner, a spatula, a bag of 3 week old oranges, a kids toy and hepatitis C for only 99 cents? No where! One of these days I'm going to do a top 10 inventions list and the 99 cent store will be somewhere on it. How much for this laundry basket? 99 cents. How much for this shower cap? 99 cents. the prices never change! Oh, hallelujah 99 cent store. How you've saved me the aggravation of actually paying more than a dollar for anything.

The problem I have with the store is that I always seem overdressed. I went on my lunch break yesterday and I was pretty sure I was the only one actually wearing a shirt. Some guy had on half a tank top. An old guy was wearing a towel, I think. Listen I'm not against towels as appropriate forms of dress, I just think its a little eclectic.

Not gonna lie, I also picked up a 99 cent towel to wear around my house. Dude is trendy.

I also don't know where to draw the line at the 99 cent purchases. I'm pretty sure cleaning products are acceptable as a 99 cent item, but a watermelon? Is that ok? What about steak? As delicious as a 99 cent steak sounds, it also sounds infested with Ryan Seacrest's hair product.

Seacrest, indeed, is out.

As awesome as the store is, it also is pretty stocked with the geriatric crew. (Aside: I wish there was a Justice League of Old People for superheroes. I'll call them "Super Old People." We have Leftturning Johnson, Sonny Boy Toots, and 4 Bits Boone. They just go around regaling people with their "good ole days" stories until people fall asleep and then they bring them to justice. Quick someone get Stan Lee on the phone. This whole rant was so nerdy that I just hiked my pants up above my waist and set up a Dunegeons and Dragons game. Kill me.) Old people are funny. When I was waiting in line with my sponge, mop, air freshener, carpet cleaner and my 6 pack of Fanta Soda (99 cents! And I hate Fanta!) the older man in front of me was having an issue with "addition."

Darryl, the nice young cashier- "That'll be 16.04 sir."
Old Man- "But I only got 15 things!"
Darryl- "Yes,but there is tax so its 16.04"
Old Man- "I only got 15 things! Great Googly Mooogly! (He didn't say this)"
Darryl -"Yes, sir"
Old Man- "Let's count them. One two three....15"
Darryl- "Yes, but there is tax, here look at the screen"
Old Man- "Let me see that!"

At this point the guy grabs his screen and spins it towards him. Shaken by this newfangled technology of words not on paper, he got confused and just gave up. While doing that, Darryl punched in something on his keyboard and the old guy thought Darryl was trying to hit him.

Darryl don't hit no old dudes.

The old guy goes, "Don't touch me young man!" while Darryl was befuddled. The old man ripped his change out of Darryl's hand and left. Then he stole a key chain from the front of the store.

Did I say anything? Nope. Sometimes old people just need key chains. Darryl saw it too and just looked and shrugged. When I got to the front of the line I asked Darryl if I could have one of those sweet key chains.

"Only if you can't add and are over 134"

Only 127 107 more years to go for that key chain, Darryl. 127107 more years.

(I am dumb)

Smokin in the Boys Room

If there's one thing Spanish people know it's how to do a Mexican hat dance. Wait, probably not a Mexican hat dance, but some sort of dance that involves hats and bandanas. It's great fun. After Spain's thrilling (read: 1-0) soccer (read: futbol) victory (read: riot time!) yesterday in the European championship, LA turned into a smorgasbord of Viva Espanas and Ole Ole Ole and this guy was on the train.

I got a one way ticket to Funville- population: everyone.

Is there anything better than dancing with spicy Spanish women while celebrating a championship for your country? I wouldn't know. There weren't any Spanish women at the bar. But I imagine it to be an amazing experience. Next time I'm in Ibiza, I'll let everyone know if my findings are accurate.

It was my friend's birthday on Saturday and I was ready for an evening full of drinking, dancing and generally unawareness of my surroundings. Not sure how that's different from any other day of the week, but I digress. Apparently Saturday Night in Manhattan Beach is cougar central. Listen, I no problems with cougars as evidenced here. But why they got to be all up in my grillz? I was in the bathroom line and an older women of about, I don't know, 46 told me to smile more. What? I've been smiling all day lady. Did you not see me getting down to Journey like 30 seconds ago? Get off my lawn. I appreciate women that have some courage to actually strike up a conversation with you, but how about not drinking that 12th Gin and Tonic while talking to me with your eyes half shut. Just a suggestion. You know it's bad when the dude next to you in the bathroom line says, "Yeah, how about no" when she walks away. Dudes have no shame.

We went bar hopping and shot taking through various establishments. A little too much fun was being had by all when a young lad approached the birthday girl and started striking up a conversation with her.

You go girl friend *snap.

(Aside- I've come up with a great idea for a new sitcom/drama TV show. Gay Detective. It's a flamboyant gay guy who solves crimes. Brilliant! We have all kind of other detective shows. We have the blind guy that solves crimes. A guy that sees dead people. CSI- NY, Miami, Omaha. Law and Order, Law and Order SVU, Law and Order AEIOU. Why not, gay detective? I'm not talking about Will from Will and Grace. I'm talking about Jack. Totally flamboyant. I don't see how this doesn't work. In fact his catchphrase is...you go girlfriend *snap. That's how I got on this topic. Maybe I'll ask my lone gay friend if he wants to play the lead role. I'm a good friend.)

It seemed as if my friend was into this random guy so I just merrily went along my way dancing and making a complete ass out of myself as per the usual. I kept looking over for any hint of, "the please save me" vibe. As the guy friend you always have to be ready for that. I hate it. I don't want to save anyone. Who will save my soul? No one, that's who. Those are the breaks when you go out with the ladies. After getting no hints that she was disinterested, I struck up a convo with my friends as the bar lights went on and everyone went "Oh, thats what you really look like." Maybe people only say that to me.

We walked outside where we tried hailing a cab. Actually in our group of 4 only one person was hailing a cab. His girlfriend was talking to some drunk guy, the birthday girl was talking to her new friend and I was doing the only thing I knew how to do.

Singing Pat Benatar acapella style in the middle of the sidewalk.

"You're a heartbreaker, dream maker, love taker, don't you mess around with me." If you heard someone singing that song on Saturday night it was me. After seeing people stare at me and having two girls join in my rousing rendition of a timeless classic, I looked at my friend who kind of gave me the look that she had enough of the guy she was talking to. I didn't go over there because I wasn't sure and because also, YOU CAN'T STOP IN THE MIDDLE OF A PAT BENATAR SONG!

"The invincible winner, and you know that you were born to be!!!!!!"

Finally the taxi came and I got an earful.

Birthday girl- "Why didn't you get me away from that guy?"
Me- "Looked like you guys were having a great time."
BG- "Ugh, he was ok, but lame."
Me- "you're a heartbreaker, dream maker..."
BG0 "Why are you singing that song? I needed help!"
Me- "I don't know. That song rules?!!?! Seems pretty obvious."
BG- "Ridiculous."

She didn't seem that mad, but I thought it was funny enough. Why do I have to save people? I'm busy, woman. I don't have time for this.

If fun is a drug, this guy needs rehab.

You're the Right Kind of Sinner, To Release My Inner Fantasy

A couple of people have been asking about any progress on the Sobster. Well the progress is really that we've been texting each other and I mistakenly texted her one of my awesome catch phrases from Saturday.

Um, yeah, texting sucks.

But because of my faithful blog readers who like laughing at misfortune and making me cry on Sunday nights while I watch Rescue 911, I'm going on another date with this maniac at some point. I say maniac in the nicest way possible. If I don't return after said date you should probably call the ATF and alert them to the Sobster's address.

Also you guys can fight over my PS2.

Last night over a few frosty beverages the topic of women came up. Actually, I'm not going to lie, the topic of women comes up almost every time the guys hang out. It's usually prefaced with the phrase, "Why don't we have know any..." then ended with "women" or "girls that find us attractive" or "midget clowns". After the obligatory rap on sports, discussing how freakin' awesome the guitar solo is on Trippin on a Hole in a Paper Heart by STP or talking with the bartender about how he's trying to come up with a radio station that broadcasts on TV, the topic always turns to girls. We. Are. Cool.

Half of the time it's usually about one of the girls in the bar and how we're not going to talk to her and if we do how we'll never call anyway. The other half of the time it's usually, "How did HE get HER?!?!" Dudes love to do this. Then we call said boyfriend a douchebag and all laugh about it while spilling beer all over our Urban Outfitters 20 dollar t-shirts.

We doth but men!

Last night the question came up about of the friends that we have that are girls, how many are we really attracted to. That was a horribly punctuated sentence. Thank you AP English. I know the whole Harry Met Sally blah blah blah thing, but this is real life, not a movie. And no, I will not have what she's having because Meg Ryan is probably having a salad and I want a steak. People like Meg Ryan always eat salads. I know. If it was a movie I kind of want it to be Home Alone. I always wanted to foil robbers with my clever booby trap antics and eat lovely cheese pizza. Where was I? Yes.

Contrary to popular belief, I put the percentage of female friends I'm attracted to at 2 percent. Of course, I got the normal guffawing and stares from the rest of the crew, but whatever, they can all suck it. Once a girl enters friend zone for me it becomes hard to turn the switch back to, "Oh yeah, she's pretty hot too." I don't know. Not normal. This guy. Listen I'm not going to regale you with stories of my girl friends being attracted to me because that's not true. But if I do fall for my friends it's usually pretty hard and pretty fast and I'm not wearing a lifejacket so I get eaten by sharks.

The rest of my friends put their percentages at about 94 percent because they said they would probably date/make out/ play hungry hungry hippos with all of their female friends. Yes, ladies, we're single! Step right up!

After that riveting conversation we wondered how many of our gal pals (that's kind of non-heterosexual isn't it? I've been watching a lot of Top Chef) thought that we were interested in them. I'm pretty convinced that almost all of the girls that guys hang out with, have in the back of their mind, that their guy friends like them in that way. Even if its not true. At some point it has to cross their mind, right? Just to put it in context every best girl friend I've had has thought that I wanted them. Is it because I call them? Ask them to movies? Wonder if they want to model the see thru outfits at Victoria's Secret? What could it possible be?

I'm also pretty sure that most guys that hang out with girls don't think that their girl friends know that they secretly want them when, in fact, they know the whole time. Unless they're Fabio because that dude exudes machismo, man. I know, I used to go to the gym he works out at. He is a sexy sexy man with rippling mus...

Um, not gay. Just pointing out the facts.

The difference between guys and girls is that girls have that ability in their brain to forget about it and just be friends. It almost never crosses their mind until they become attracted to the guy or the guy blurts out his feelings to the girl and the girl says, "Get out, seriously?" and the guy goes, "Oh, yeah haha, just kidding" and then goes home and listens to "How's It Going To Be" by Third Eye Blind 342 times.

Nope never happened to me. Read it in TV Guide once.

I'm pretty upfront about everything. If I like you, I'm going to say it. If I think you're an ass, I'm going to say it. You only get one life right? Because If you get two lives I want to sign up on that list to make up for this first one I've royally screwed up. I've ruined more than one friendship by saying, "I'm falling for you, let's get some ice cream" and have it be ruined because the girl is lactose intolerant. Damn, milk. What was the point of this post anyway?

Oh, right. Guys and girls can be friends without wanting each other, but the guy usually wants to be with the girl. That was the worst moral of the story ever. Imagine if that was one of Aesop's morals?

Yes, the hare may be faster than the tortoise in all aspects of running, but being not fast and consistent will usually win the match.

I say Good Day!

How to Be Insensitive

Ok, if you can't laugh at this website whether you're Republican, Democrat or actually think Jesse Ventura is a viable governor candidate, then you have no soul. Click on the link and then keep clicking for new phrases. My favorites?

John McCain is writing a sternly-worded letter to President Johnson
John McCain can't hear you
John McCain is paying for that sandwich with a check

Get it?? HE's OLD!! If you can't laugh at old people, who can you laugh at? Man, amazing. I wish I could find something like this for Barack Obama. I'm sure some person would come out and say, oh that's in poor taste, though. You know what's in poor taste buddy. Being serious. You only live once. I'll laugh at old people if I want to laugh at old people. You can't tell me what to do!

When I was growing up in the late 80s and early 90s you always heard about girls being sensitive and guys be rugged, manly, don't show your feelings, rub some dirt on it individuals. Also wearing Zubaz. Those were the bomb. I was told it was unacceptable to cry when watching a movie. Maybe not TV shows because if you think I didn't bawl like a baby when the Seavers moved out of their house on Growing Pains and went to Washington DC then you're crazy.

Um, nevermind.

I was listening to my IPod the other day and realized, the world has changed. Now men are the more sensitive species. Oh, really, don't believe me? Well then, my friend, you are a stupidface. That's right a stupidface. If there's a greater insult than stupidface, I've yet to hear it. Well this one is pretty bad, but stupid and in your face. Double you got served.

Maybe the Sobster was right, women have taken over. I was listening to Carrie Underwood the other day. By listening, I mean staring at her and wondering how I could possibly meet her and ask her to be my girlfriend. This is how I get women. Then I heard the words coming out of her mouth.

"That I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped up 4 wheel drive"

Um, sorry? I know the dude cheated ,but come on Carrie, he messed up. I know you're angry and everything but don't you think you're taking it..

"carved my name into his leather seats"

That's vintage leather! Why so angry? Babydoll, it's ok. He's a jerk, but vandalizing his vehicle is just going to get you into...

"I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights"

Ok, I get it. You're angry. You want revenge. Maybe you should just egg his house. I don't think ruining his ride, while making you feel better, is good for the ole' police record. Let's just go home and..

"slashed a hole in all 4 tires"

Well, now you've done it. He can't move the car. you're crazy! Carrie, I thought we had something here, but you're certifiably insane. Maybe next time a banana in the tailpipe would be the way to go. Real easy. You get your point across. Have some laughs. You would show him who, in fact, is the boss. Everyone wins.

I don't really have a problem with the song. It's catchy and poppy with out being overbearing, but now she has given women the mindset to ruin men's cars. As men, we have all lost.

Women have become stronger, smarter and better looking than us. They call themselves "bitches" they say so long "skater boys", tell us to "hit them with our best shot." What do men do? We want to "talk", anguish about "daughters, tell women that "we are selfish and wrong" and "we're on a highway to hell"

Ruben Studdard is apologizing for stuff he hasn't even done yet. Grow a pair, man!

We can't even play the sensitivity card anymore! We've lost all our upper hand. What the hell are you guys doing?!?! You make us all look bad. But what happened? I thought Bette Midler was supposed to be crying about stuff? Now men are all sensitive. All emo. Is it ok for me to cry now? I think it is. Maybe the Sobs had it right, women are independent and don't need men. We've lost our edge and there's only one person that can get it back.

This Man.

Lonely and Dreaming of the West Coast

The last 3 days by the numbers


times I told someone their "body is too bootylicious for you babe" - 2
times asked, "what the hell is wrong with you?" -3
times I told my friends, "I can't get Beyonce out of my head" - 4
eye rolls received - 6
times I typed out @ngel@ today - 2
times I typed 2ngel@ today- 3
times I typed Angela today- 1
e-mails asking if I was high - 3
people that asked me that question - 1
cans of red bull consumed -3
amount of Hollywood stuntmen I met- 2
height in inches I am taller than one of them - 11
My height- 60.5 68.5 inches
number of 7 dwarfs I named for a dollar - 6
number of dollars paid when I couldn't remember the 12 days of Christmas - 2
Net worth - minus $1
Amount of miles walked -3
number of dogs that attacked me on the sidewalk - 1
number of kids laughing at me - 3
number of kids that ran when I started chasing them - 2
amount of time it took me to get tired chasing said kids - 8 seconds.
times I said loud enough for Jason Lee to hear me that the cookie stand is not a part of the food court - 2
times my friend talked about being a Pilot Inspector- 3
times he laughed -zero
Dr.Mario games I won on Nintendo - 0
times my friends beat me consecutively in Dr. Mario - 28
Times I said, "Only nerds are good at this" - 4
times my chair was pulled out from under me - 2
times I laughed - 2,323
times I snorted - 4
times I fell down after snorting -3
amount of time I had to write this post - 2 minutes
Times I willd bash my head into this wall for this rest of the afternoon -658
Lameness of this post on a scale of 1-10 - 5,648

I Don't Think You're Ready for This Jelly

I just went through my trusty text messaging and realized all the texts I had sent on Friday night and Saturday morning to people. Alcohol is the devil. Why must you be so delicious?!?!

These are the texts I sent Saturday morning at around 10.

"Let's have fun. PS Being drunk at 10 es no bueno."
"I need some advil and a 30 pack of string cheese."
"Who is you daddy and what does he do?"
"Yesh, I am king of the castle."
"Hola, donde esta el bano?"
"If I got out in public right now babies will cry and He-man will probably kill me."

Um, yes. I don't know what I was thinking about at all. Apparently I had Arnold Schwarzenegger becoming the next Queen of England while devouring gourmet queso in Mexico on the brain.

Textual Healing, indeed.

After that rousing texting episode I decided to go to the grocery store to get something to eat and possible an arrow that I could shoot through my brain. As long as it was half off, though. Gotta shop for the deals. I decided I wanted one of those chef boyardee cans of stuff. Why? I don't know. It seemed like a good idea. So I went for the 4 cheese ravioli deal but there was only one can all the way in the back. I reached in for it. Success! As I pulled my arm out I proceeded to knock over approximately 15 cans of Chef Boyardee on the floor of the supermarket.

Fail.

My venture into the supermarket got incrementally worse when in my supreme hungover state I attempted to pick up all the cans and put them back before some hot LA wannabe actress showed up and wanted to make out. Got to be prepared. Also it got worse when I thought it would be a great idea to yell out, "Clean up on aisle 12!" while doing it.

Fail.

Needless to say the store employees were not to pleased with my rousing performance, especially, when instead of putting all the cans back into their proper place, I put some of them in the ramen packet aisle, which significantly devalued them. You know most shoppers don't even read the label as long as the product is on a shelf we all just assume the price underneath it is right.

"Chef Boyardee is 7 cents a can? It says so right here! So what that it's in the freezer section? Labels don't lie! O' Glorious Day!"

Store Employee- "It's ok sir, we'll take care of it."
Me- "You don't have one of those break it, buy it policies do you?"
SE- "Why? Are these cans damaged?"
Me-" Um, I hope not because I don't need 15 cans of Chef, I'm not 8."
SE- "Sir, you can continue shopping, we'll handle this."
Me- "You're the man now dawg."

WHAT?!?!

I just told some guy he was the "man now dawg." It's time to go home and never leave the house ever again.

Fail.

Since I don't want to show my face at Ralph's anymore, yesterday for lunch I needed to go grocery shopping when I walked into the mecca or grocery stores. The Taj Mahal of the market place. The Max of the food industry. that's right.

Trader Joe's.

I don't know who this Joe guy is or why he likes bartering, but the man makes a mean grocery store. Mean in this case means cool. Cool means awesome. Try to keep up with the lingo here. Aside from the whole no parking situation and the fact that the store is as crowded as a Dungeons and Dragons game at a comic convention, I can't think of anything wrong with it.

1.) The employees wear these cool Hawaiian but not Hawaiian t shirts. Look, they're relaxed! They're from Hawaii. Take it easy man, we're on island time. Chill out. Mahalo!

2.) They have free samples. I don't see anything wrong with continually going back for seconds and thirds at the free sample tent. Man's gotta eat. Wash that down with 32 Dixie cups of refreshing pink lemonade and you have a meal so good it tastes like a meal. I said it!

3.) People love to try to eat healthy. I'm not going to lie, I don't normally eat health conscious food, but while at the store I was beamed into this alternate universe where I turned into Richard Simmons and started buying healthy food. The short shorts probably didn't help. I actually bought veggie burgers. Veggie burgers! It was such a momentous occasion that I called my mom and told her. She told me to go see a "brain doctor."

4.) Women party at the Joe. I would say women out numbered men yesterday by about 5 to 1 in the store. I understand it was the middle of the day so more women are at home taking care of the kids and such, but still it was a pretty healthy margin. (Please don't tell the Sobster I said that. I would like my ear not bitten off). In fact there were so many women there that I think next Monday I'm going back and dropping a disco ball and calling it, "Studio Trader Joe" and just will get down with my bad self. Women love disco. Who's with me?!?! No one? Great.

5.) Great tunes. No more of this crappy adult contemporary stuff. Suck it, Michael Bolton! I'm talking straight out 90s jams pumping through the stereo. You want some Gin Blossoms. You got Gin Blossoms. You want some Fiona Apple. How do you like them apples? Candlebox in the house! If you don't like 90s alt rock, you can just get the hell out. You tell 'em Joe!

Chef Boyardee is going to be pissed.

Show Me, Show Me, Show Me, How You Do That Trick.

As if this weekend couldn't get any longer, it is about 125 degrees Celsius in my apartment right now. Needless to say all this typing makes me sweat.

Classy.

What was supposed to be a nice relaxing weekend that included saying goodbye to good friends, celebrating days of birth with cool ones, saying hello again to old ones and relaxing on the beach with the fun ones ended being a debacherous trek of watermelon and vodka all throw into a wondrous concoction called...

Vodka Watermelon.

I'm not suave, I readily admit that, but get this guy some delicious alcohol and I become freakin' Leonardo DiCaprio in that movie where that kid Gilbert was eating grapes. Wait, maybe not that DiCaprio movie. I don't know. Maybe it was that movie. I'm all confused now. The only thing that makes sense right now is that Leo DiCaprio makes pretty awesome movies.

Friday was supposed to be a laid back night of the usual for me. Go to a party, make some jokes, look like an idiot, comment on how hot some girl is while I drool and then go home alone. All in a night's work if I do say so myself. But something fun and exciting happened on Friday night. I was introduced to the World's foremost alcoholic fruit. You guessed it.

Vodka Watermelon.

How could you go wrong? You put some vodka in a watermelon, do some stuff and then cut it up and you eat it. If you're crazy insane you can eat the seeds. There's only one word to describe vodka watermelon.

OHMYGODTHISTHINGISFANTASTICANDDELICIOUSCANIHAVESOMEMOREANDEATITALL-NESS.

I believe that word is in the unabridged version of Webster's dictionary. That little Webster was so funny. Where was I? Oh yes, so after devouring the watermelon with the smoothness of a hungry lion we all decided, "Hey, let's create our own shot!" Whoo-hoo! We're creative. Take that Picasso! I, of course, was in charge of coming up with a name for the shot we created. What was in it? Hell, if I know. I just ate King Kong Bundy's weight in watermelon, no time for "knowing" things.

Since I had Charlie Brown on the brain, I thought Charlie Brown would be a good name for it because it was going to make us all go, "Good Grief" after we drank it.

See what I did there? Ok, good.

At this point the naming of the drink became a 3rd grade brainstorming session. I threw out Charlie Brown, someone threw out Peanuts, someone went Snoopy and then we settled on the final name, "Schmoopie" because putting sch- in front of anything is fun and not in any way non-heterosexual.

Moving on.

After 342 Schmoopie shots needless to say someone was feeling pretty damn good. So good in fact I started high fiving random people on the street outside. Not. Embarrassing. At. All. At around 2 (3? 4?) in the morning some girl thought it would be a good idea to run to the Mexican place and buy burritos for everyone. Of course, I being the gentleman and complete drunkard that I was, volunteered to walk with her over there because girls walking alone at night are bad.

Of course, said Mexican place was closed. Now two normal people would have gone back to the apartment, broke the bad news and gone on drinking with their bad selves. These two people decided to start cabbing it around LA to find an open Mexican joint.

Dammit.

While we were going to every closed place in the South Bay, I found out her name was the exact same as one of my ex-es. Her name started with an M and ended in a -aria. Awesome. There's nothing worse than talking to someone with the same name as your ex unless it's like Jen because that name is pretty popular. So between drunk talk and closeness I felt like this was Taxicab Confessions and anything that was going to happen right now is going to be really bad and be on HBO. It's an unregulated channel. They can show anything! I'm not prepared for that!

After finding nothing open we payed for our taxi date and were about to go back upstairs when she fell outside. Is there anything more romantic than picking a drunk girl up off the sidewalk? I knew I should have bought chocolates. While picking her up off the sidewalk she proceeded to try to make out with me. I say try because at this point I probably looked like an unchiseled, more brown Greek God to her. Maybe I shouldn't have taken my shirt off.

After 5 seconds of that I couldn't go through with it anymore. This guy has morals (Damn you parents!) and that girl was absolutely obliterated and it just wasn't going to happen. Not with all of our friends upstairs. Not with her name being what it was. Not with there being no more Vodka Watermelon to be consumed. It wasn't going to fly.

I stink.

I walked her back inside and had to come up with an elaborate story about why we came back with nothing and were gone so long. No one bought my story that as we were driving, a barrel of fish was thrown through the taxi windshield rendering it inoperable and we had to get another one. I thought it was plenty feasible.

She slipped me her number at some point to call her, but I can't get by the whole name thing. I'm going to go on a date with another Maria? I'll be traumatized and eating 36 bags of pistachios in the corner of my room, repeating, "Maria, Maria, Maria" over and over again afterwards. Also, I can't really say I remember what she looks like. If I can't remember her, she has a better chance of snorting a whole block of silly putty than remembering me. When will I be normal? I would like that day to be tomorrow, please.

Since I drove to the party and was in no shape to drive back one of my friends who wasn't drinking drove me back. While I was sitting in the passenger seat of my car, I flipped out and said, "How the hell am I getting back down here to get my car tomorrow?"

I was sitting in my car.

Smarter than the average.