I turned 28 a few days ago, that much I can recall, and I celebrated by going to a work friend's baby shower (to meet girls) then heading to Red Door and Broadway Brewhouse, where my roommate and a couple of his friends and I got wasted, wasteder, and wastedest. Keeping with tradition I again picked up zero chicks, but as drunk as I was I don't think much would have happened anyway, so no real loss there. The puking my guts out when we got home then drinking more probably wouldn't have impressed anyone either.
Later, after a couple beers and some pizza at home we went to the pool and hung out for a bit, and everything was cool until some guy hurled in it and we decided to call it quitting time. I think we all know what hap
pened next.Waffle House. For whatever reason we rolled out and slammed down some waffles, hashbrowns, and BE&C sandwiches before returning home and crashing out. The following day was like most any other day of mine, a complete and total waste, except this time punctuated by my not remembering my car was at red door until I was supposed to be driving it to meet someone for dinner. Fashionably late is still cool I think.
Other than that all I've been doing is working and riding my bike. I've started going out around 5-530am ish and heading downtown to the stadium and back, which is more or less 20 miles. Adding on a trip down the greenway to opry mills brings it closer to 30 miles; pretty much just about right for my purposes. I got a sweet bike computer / gps that shows the streets and shit as I'm riding which is nice, and by the end of the month I should have a map detailing where the homeless people drink @ 6 am. Given the nature of the transient lifestyle the map won't be 100% accurate, but much like an electron density cloud in chemistry it will illustrate where the bums have the highest likelyhood of being found at any given time. Next time out I'll take my camera and get some pics and mark the location of Mop Dancer (the hobo who dances with his mop by the river), and gangster midget, the notorious dwarf cokehead who spends his days with the rest of the males of working age in his neighborhood drinking and hanging out by the street instead of working like the rest of us. Thank God for government handouts.
There are some other things but I feel like shit and want to stop writing. I'll add some pics and maybe some videos later, if I can figure out how at least. I just got an HD camcorder, but the editing software is teh sux and awkward to work with, kind of like a co-worker who wears denim all the time and has a pony tail.
Oink.
This is a random pic of a sign hanging by the baseball field that I thought was particularly stupid. Buckle up in your truck. In my mind, this is just going to make Cletus and Clem think they don't need to wear seat belts when in other types of vehicles, and that it's okay for Charleene and Jimmy Ray to sit in the bed, so long as they are lashed down with some sort of buckled strap.
