Ok, due to utterly shitty weather, the Bacchus celebration that I thought I was going to have to cancel on, cancelled on me. Well, it moved to a later “to be determined” date. I ended up working later than planned (big surprise there) and going to a mini-happy-Dwayne promotion party after I left the office. It all took place at friendly neighborhood Blanco’s Bar and Grill. This place is evil. There is nothing to do but drink there… and for us professional drinkers, it is done well. Later in the evening there was a band… Davin James and his crew. I must say that these guys were INCREDIBLE. When it comes to southern blues as expressed by guitar and emotional vocals, there was no one that did it quite the way Stevie Ray did, but if there were some no-names floating around Houston that could step up to the plate, these guys are it. I had fun. It was also cool because I had spent part of the day pimping the “yeehaw-Dwayne” extravaganza so there were A LOT of people from work that showed just to give him props. I am gonna grab some left over Camron-cooked-goodness while she’s in town… nighters!
Uh-oh! I’m running late for my 1:00. Afterthought worth mentioning:
Ketel One also rawks.
I was just reading my friend Greg’s online journal. He was also making a comment this morning about Fridays and how they were special to him due to the weekly “martini lunch” he and his friends started up (obviously, this is a Friday event). Excellent idea Greg. However, in Houston, we don’t believe in petty discrimination amongst weekdays. Every day of the the week can be “martini lunch” day. Amen.
My personal favorite:
Grey Goose... so beautiful... so pure. One's lips must continually visit the glossy, smooth rim of the fragile glass to convince by taste that there is actually liquid in that small cup of heaven. I don’t do vermouth however, I will allow a bottle to be in the same room with my martini providing distance is respected. Olives are optional, but they can occasionally be fun if your tongue gets bored. Tongues usually like to play with things. Drinking a martini should never be about the destination (because you’re going there anyway)… it’s the journey that makes the ride so satisfying. Have one at lunch for me Greg!
I love Fridays. I especially love this Friday. It’s been such a long week. I didn’t sleep very well last night. I tossed incessantly and ended up waking several times. I had an early meeting, so I eventually gave up and got ready for work early. Dwayne got a promotion yesterday. I am so proud of him… he deserved it. I’m still lingering in the homemade enchilada bliss from last night. If I had more time this morning, I was going to have some for breakfast. I imagined it would be right up there with cold pizza, but I guess now I’ll never know. I was invited to the Baccus bash tonight. Bacchus (also known as Dionysus or Bromius) was the wine god in Greek mythology, born from Zues’ thigh, that provided mankind with a gift as important as grain: relaxation, escape, liquid refreshment that also made water potable, and, not least important, the truth that's found only in vino. Whatever. The French celebrate Bacchus (the god of wine) annually… dieu du vin et de la fertilite. Sounds like a good excuse to get your drink on, eh? I’m down. Anyhoo, it’s at
http://www.seabrook-sailing.org/”>Seabrook Sailing Club. I have already RSVP’d, but I need to get these proposals done on a major project and will probably not go. Besides, there was talk of mass skinny-dipping at midnight (apparently traditional for the French celebration) and I don’t think me being buck-ass naked and hammered is a good combination at a public establishment. Bad things could happen… ;-)
The Curves of my S
The curves of my S are perfect at best
keeping me warm and protected
from the darkness that surrounds me
The curves of my S rejoice in their smoothness
soft and forever, they smile at me
gracefully dancing beyond my reach
The curves of my S circle closer through time
their laughter lifts my spirit like
a feather on a morning mountain breeze
The curves of my S hold the jealousy of roses
enchanted, I am caressed by their scent that
surely and secretly escaped from the heavens
The curves of my S leave my lips in reminiscence
longing to find once more the sweet, tender
kiss of an Angel
The curves of my S have opened my eyes to a world larger than this...
______________
goodbye "S"... you know who you are...
OMG! My sister is a fucking culinary genius! Ok, it’s not like enchiladas are magret of duck martiniquaise with caramelized leg confit and banana tempura, but Mexican food is the staple of the south Texan diet. If you got that down, what else is there to add to your recipe resume? Anyhoo, I think I’ll watch a movie while still in the afterglow of my TexMexgasm. Toodles.
Homemade enchiladas kick ass. I truly believe that I am addicted to Mexican food. There is no getting around it. Refried beans and flour tortillas are like crack cocaine. Did you notice the little
TagBoard bullshit on the left side of the page. Yeah, that’s right… the one I obviously can’t seem to get looking right. At least
Sean is making good use of it. ;-)
Oh yeah, another reason to start riding a bike to work... parking. Obviously, this
woman has it down. Don't piss her off.
I just finished a meeting with my boss and some of the consultants and engineers I work with regarding design strategies. Dry. Boring. Necessary. I only mention it because it was absolutely the most productive meeting I have been to in eight fucking months. I go to a lot of meetings. “Let’s have a meeting to talk about meetings.” WTF? Enough of that… so, before the shameful night of decadence and debauchery that we won’t discuss (wild for the group, but alas… my participation was 14% champagne, 78.927% Tanqueray and tonic, 6.634% nicotine, and 0.439% miscellaneous), I went to the bike shop to price bicycles. I think I am going to try to ride a bicycle to work. I know… crazy. I’m just searching for a creative way to exercise while tricking myself into not thinking that I’m exercising. Does that make sense? Shiesty, eh?
I should write a thesis on the medicinal (read: mystical) healing properties of caffeine when delivered in the form of coffee. Patch Adams in a sippy-cup. My morning caterpillar is now a beautiful butterfly… with a heart rate of 120 beats per minute. I love coffee. Coffee loves me.
Ouch. You know, for someone that drinks more than he should, it usually takes a lot to dent the ole’ noggin… I am so hangin’ this morning. Not good. Anyway, I just woke up and am headed into the office. I would type you guys some more however, that little clicky sound of the keys is about to make my head explode. Grrrrr…
Why does bad feel so good sometimes? I usually do not "do" strip clubs... ever. I have been in the past on outings to these establishments and it has always turned out bad. As a matter of fact, I have only had one good thing come from a strip club experience and she is rapidly turning out to be bad as well. Anyhoo, tonight’s trip was predicated by much drinking and reason-bending celebration. What does it get you? It gets you me…. typing you this not in the wee hours of the morning to affirm that strip clubs are no good. Especially when the tab was NINE THOUSAND FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS. Names will be withheld to protect the crazy fools that know exactly who you are to run up this damn bill. I am going to bed… disgusted.
Sean has decided to accompany my digital exhibitionism with his own blog. He and I go way back and despite the cool points from being my “brutha from a different mutha”, he is an all around good guy. Sean has a long history in digital effects and currently directing his chi toward all things
Whoopass. I figure if that doesn't work, he and I will start a new VFX company doing Aki Ross pornos. On a lighter note, you "gotsta" check out this
prank call to the
Voice... if it makes coffee shoot out of your nose, send me a photo. Speaking of... I have already (me says in total amazement) received some complimentary email on this site. I, for my own ego-stroking pleasure, with classify this as “fan mail” and start posting it here (on a linked page of course… so the “we don’t give a shiet” folks won’t go home and drink bleach in protest). Anyhoo, for those that have written, thank you for the kind words (I’d post ‘em even if they weren’t kind though) and keep them coming! Fan pics are even better (hint hint)… In light of the fact I've been here since pre-6 a.m., I am going to put genuine effort into shedding this corporate coil early and slithering into one of my favorite Houston
watering holes.
I am truly not a morning person.