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Working on Sunday sucks. Movie night was interrupted by more work, but I am (thankfully) done now. I think try to get some Zzzz's since I am allergic to Monday mornings and I hear there is a high probability that I might run into one tomorrow. I need to get ready to fight it. Grrrr!

ps. WTF is this?

I hate doing taxes. Apparently, there was some effin mistake in my forwarding address from my previous employer and it took months for my W-2 to find me (I didn't even realize there was any income in the previous tax year from them). I already filed my return (on time) and received my refund (not much), but this fucks everything up... now I need to file an amended return counting the other W-2. Meanwhile, there is probably a SWAT team of auditors loading their calculators with fresh batteries and marking my address as a waypoint on their GPS handhelds. Oy vey! I rented some movies... Va Savoir and Things You Can Tell Just by Looking at Her. I bought a couple bottles of wine and a big chew bone for Eclair. We're gonna have movie night together. I was going to get groceries, but I don't know where I would put them. My refrigerator is full... and I eat out a lot. If I decide to cook, I usually will just get the fresh ingredients from Whole Foods or Central Market (CM rawks!) that I need for the recipe, but as previously stated, I'm not into cooking for one... hence, "Garson!" Look how dirty my name is... bad table! Naughty table! Spank!

Streeeetch! Time to start my day. I love sleeping in. I love waking up and the sheets and comforter are all messy and pillows are thrown about... and I'm just laying there in complete comfort... knowing that the choice to get out of bed and begin or staying in bed, pausing for another few hours of snuggly sleepytime, is all mine to make. That is truly a great feeling. I think I was drifting in and out of that state this morning when the phone ringing pulled me into a higher state of consciousness. It was a good call though, so that's ok. I despise the phone calls that wake you and you find a marketing voice message on the other end or some phone guy trying to pimp his "better" long distance plan. Those get the morning off on the wrong foot. I'm not a morning person anyway, so I really need no assistance in that department. Good calls are ok. Bad calls are not. Holy shit... an epiphany! I think I need some breakfast.

The Warped Tour rocked. The outside venue was rained out, so they started turning people away at the gates (even if you had a ticket) per the fire marshall's orders. Limited space in the Reliant Center was the reason given, but regardless of logic, fights ensued. I was already inside and enjoying the scenery. The skaters were great, but there was one skater that caught my eye and I found inspiration. He had no foot. Yeah... that's right. This guy had no foot and basically had a small prosthetic that imitated a foot, yet he was doing all the jumps, spins, and tricks that the two footed guys did. Amazing. There were a lot of bands that performed today however, the ones that I wanted to see specifically were The Eyeliners, Lagwagon, and NOFX. I wanted to see the Eyeliners because I had to work the last time they came into town. I stopped by their booth after their performance to tell them I liked the show and the lead singer kept telling me that she knew me from somewhere. I don't think I have one of those faces... you know, that are easily mistaken for a lot of people. During one of the later shows, this girl got passed over the area I was at and was accidentally thrown in the pit. Obviously, no one was there to catch her and she landed on her head. Mike and I were screaming at these idiot kids to pick her up and get her out of there... finally, they listened. There was no way we could get there in the fray, but eventually they drug her out. Her eyes were glazed and she was semi-conscious. Obvious concussion, but maybe there was more damage. Poor girl. Remember kids: if you're going to surf the crowd, stay away from the mosh. Mosh = ouchie. Anyway, the pressure wave during NOFX was a little much and I had to struggle to get out to the edge. I was wearing some Jincos, a surf tee, and sandals... note to self: sandals are not a good thing to wear when everyone around you is in combat boots. I think 90% of the folks there were tatted or pierced in some (or many) ways. Very nice. Also, there was this beg tent labeled "reverse day care - parents only" for chaperoned teens to place their parents for the duration of the show. they had movies and refreshments. I thought that was absolutely clever. It was great all and all except for the $3.25 water, $5.75 beer, $4.75 plain hot dogs, $3.00 chips, etc. I suppose that's the norm though, so you just have to go expecting those prices. The coolest thing was how there were so many punk bands that were more interested in getting their name out there than getting paid, so you could get compilation CD's for a dollar each. I think I came home with 9 or 10 CD's that were $1.00 each. Many of them have more than 20 tracks. Good deal on some good tunes! I went to the tour with Mike and his niece, but left with Sam and Lou. They were going out afterwards and that sounded appealing. They asked me for a suggestion. I picked the Richmond Arms. They make a pretty mean spicy bloody mary there... yumm! We didn't stay long before we decided that we didn't have our fill of live music yet (I think that when live bands are involved, I am truly insatiable... I love live music!). The closest place with a band was Outback Pub on Fountain View. It was a cock-rock hair band ala 80's style... gawd how I wished Harry was there with me. I wouldn't be the only one there simultaneously offering the devil-horn salute and laughing so hard in reminiscence that tears were rolling from my eyes. They sucked soooo bad and rocked at the same time.... if you know what I mean... I get such a kick out of those time capsule guys. Bad perms and Spandex... what more could you ask for? Anyhoo, another thing I thought was hilarious... everyone at the bar dresses exactly the same! Well, maybe not exactly, but the same style... little meat market cookie-cut fashion. The guys wear the same type of pants and the same cut shirts... the Roxbury Compound. The girls all shop at the same mall stores. They all stand around looking at each other... waiting for some magic moment when mystically, they'll find themselves enthralled in stimulating conversation about his sportbike and how much he can bench or how her friend is so superficial, but she has real goals. You know, world issues. I couldn't take much of it... the sarcasm was bubbling inside and I quickly grow exhausted from speaking and watching my words fly over the heads of the deer in the headlights patrons. Maybe I need another drink... or two. I asked Sam if he'd mind taking me to Taqueria Tapatia down the street. He was down and I had some latino goodness. Queso, guacamole, and chiliquilles... just what I needed. After the feasting, Lou and Sam dropped me off here (home). A great day. Did I mention I love live music?

Great party. I met Audra and few few of her friends at Dick Head's on Shepard for drinks early on and by 9:00 we were at her apartment to meet the rest of the folks that were coming. Other than the keg that was iced down in the garage, the kitchen full of booze on par with a small liquor store, the two HUGE bowls of fruit that were still soaking in liquor (yumm), and the 200 Everclear Jello shots that filled every shelf of the fridge... there was a karaoke machine in the empty loft upstairs and everybody was there to have a good time. There were a few people that came and went, but almost everyone hung for the duration. There were your obligatory spillage incidents... beer/booze on clothes, jello on carpet, etc. There were the obligatory drunken drama incidents... secret angst bubbles up when your mind is swimming in alcohol. Laughing, crying, arguing, hugging, smiling, name calling, singing... we did the merry-go-round. It was a huge success. I was more of an observer last night. I watched the sitcoms and soaps but mostly just did what I always do when I drink... smile... a lot. The most fun for me was that I only knew Audra and Katie when I showed up and there were tons of people there. Katie's friend Erica came by later and I had met her once before, but that's it... clayton = stranger. I'm pretty social most of the time though, so that didn't last too long. I think it is safe to say that I was completely smashed. I drink often enough and in sufficient quantity that I have a pretty high tolerance for alcohol (of course, 8 years on active duty in the US Navy had nothing to do with it... the stereotype surrounding sailors and drinking is rubbish ;), but Everclear jello shots will dent your liver despite rebellion. Actually, when I opened the refrigerator, I may have actually heard, "resistance is futile, you will be assimilated." Fucking Jello Borg... little bastards. Good times. Now, about not good times... Mike called me this morning. Most of the time he's a pretty likeable guy. The fucktard gave our Warped Tour tickets away because he heard that our friend Chris could get us in for free! It's not that big a deal if we don't get the hook up... I mean, I'll just buy another one at the gate. I don't want to wait in line forever at the gate to purchase a replacement ticket. He didn't consult me before deciding the fate of my ticket... I think that's what bothers me. Anyhoo, he's not coming over until noon now, so I am going to snuggle up with Penny and cat nap (no pun intended) for a little bit. Me sleepy.

Home and sleepy. I went to Audra's B-Day party tonight. It was quite the event. I think I'll sleep now and talk about it later.

Ooookaaaaay. I am a little scatterbrained this afternoon. I have a lot to do in a small amount of time if I don't want to live here this weekend. I am already working Sunday (which effin sucks) afternoon/evening and my landlord is going out of town so they want my rent before they leave. You gotsta love the "hey, can you pay your rent early" calls. The biggest irony to me is that I actually can say ok. When I lived in New York, I lived in this shit hole 1 bedroom basement apartment (and I use that word loosely). My rent was $340 a month and there was never a month where I could have paid my rent early. No way, no how... ahhh... the Raman noodle days. Those were some memories... mixing crackers with hamburger meat to make it look like more meat. Price shopping different grocery stores to see who had the best Raman brick price... 13 cents? Are you fucking mad! That's outrageous! They're a nickel at [insert favorite grocery store name here]. Yep. I was there. My rent is $1600/month now and I barely remember what Raman tastes like. It's like prison. I'll never go back alive. However, experience has shown on more than one occasion that a wise man never says never. So maybe I'll get some Raman at the store tonight and have an "old school" feast. I just need to find some Genny Light in Houston. My brother emailed me to wish me a happy weekend. That just rocks. I have seen him and talked to him a grand total of 20 minutes in the last 25 years and he emails me to wish me a happy weekend. Happy me. It looks like tomorrow is going to be wet and nasty at the Warped Tour, but I just don't care. Rain is good. Mud can be washed off. I smell fun.

I've only been doing this blog thing for about 6 weeks. I have made some new e-friends and whether anyone reads my site or not, I enjoy expressing myself. However, since I know that at least my friends read here, I'm going to do a little unsolicited pimpin' for someone else that I know reads my page. She has a son with Tourette Syndrome. If you have a few minutes, read this. She is entering in this blogathon thing that I'm sure many of you know about and are either participating in or sponsoring someone you know, but if you aren't sponsoring someone and want to show some support, please sponsor her. Her selected charity is supporting tourette's syndrome treatment and research.

I received this picture in an email today. Apparently some guy try to spin start the engine his plane without setting the brakes. Between this plane and the 6 others his run away prop (attached to his run away plane) destroyed before stopping did about $2 million in damages. As a licensed pilot, I find this completely amazing... but hey, I guess shit really does happen.

"Don't try to touch my heart, it's darker than you think... and don't try to read my mind because it's full of disappearing ink." - Elvis (Costello, not Presley)
Exactly.

“Don’t criticize what you don’t understand, son. You never walked in that man’s shoes.” - Elvis (Presley, not Costello)
Fuck mornings.

I have a confession to make. I have a fetish for women with tattoos. I never really admitted it before, but it's true. Also, I realized that women musicians are sex incarnate. Let me take a few steps back. I met Sam for drinks at my favorite cigar bar in Houston... Downing Street. I like the food at Taco Milagro, so we ate there before going down to the village. We sat through a set of Harry and Eric's gig before going to the fabulous Satellite Lounge for Nashville Pussy. I was drinking and socializing like always when I ran into Ruyter Suys before the show... I hung out with her and talked for about 45 minutes before they went on... she was very cool and laid back. When I saw them on stage, she was a rock goddess that totally dominated the guitar. Between her provocative display of breast, tight leather pants, and her complete domination of the guitar, I was incredibly turned on by the performance. Every day you see guys wailing on stage with guitar solo after guitar solo... but rarely do you see a woman that can hold her own with the best of them. That is so fucking sexy. I could have been a groupie whore tonight... like Dracula and the memorizing stare, her no nonsense heavy guitar mastery was enough to get my pants off... and then some. I'm not gonna lie. I suppose that's their whole gig. I did get to see a kick ass bottle breakin' in the face bar fight tonight. There were a lot of hard core muthafukkas in there this evening that were not to be provoked... someone did and it was on. Pretty entertaining. I was munchie on the way home so we stopped at Whataburger. I always get the same thing: #2, double cheese, Whatasized, Diet Coke (just for the taste of it, of course ;). Anyhoo, I am sleepy. I have work tomorrow after a great day off today. I love that the weekend is only a day away. Really, I love that...

It's amazing what a steaming hot shower can do for your constitution.

"I'll be really quick. You won't feel a thing." - Mike McDermott (Rounders)
I find it somewhat liberating to live in America's fourth largest city with a metropolitan population of about 4.5 million and I'm able to survive productively with no automobile. Damn the Man! Anyhoo, I ran my bank errands and peddled over to Fadi's for some lunch. Lamb kabob and hummus with fresh baked pita. Yummy! I, of course, had to do 3 or 4 shots at Starbucks to snap out of my dreary bed-head mood. I look like hell. I haven't shaved in almost a week. I just have been a bum. It is however, comedic to see the look on someone's face in the straight laced corporate work when they look at your pressed business casual wear and scruffy-ass face... "one of these things is not like the other one, one of these things is not the same... ". I can't tell you how much good a day off to sleep has done me. I didn't sleep as much as I thought I would, but it still was excellent. I am feeling much better. Woo-hoo! You know what that means? Time to get some drink on! I am meeting Sam and Greg for beverages "after work" even though I am not working. Then I think I'll head over to the Satellite Lounge to see Nashville Pussy. I heard they aren't as good since the fire breathing female bassist left, but hey... I am easily entertained.

Uhg. I feel like my head is full of water. Stuffy. I can't say that I slept well... the phone kept ringing. There were only 3 VM's on my cell when I checked before plugging in the charger. I think some cosmic vibe must have gone out to all the people with my number... "ccllllaayyytooon's ceeellll isss bacckk"... pause... rrriinnng! Shit. Eventually, I just turned it off... which defeats the purpose of me having it anyway. I'm not on call right now, so it's no big deal. I have gone for weeks without a dream and last night seemed like it was one continuous dream. Amazing. The plot shifted from romance to action to drama... stories like a spy movie to stories like a daytime soap... the common thread was Jessica. The first girl I ever loved. Where the hell did she come from? I rarely dream about her and out of the nowhere of the past she pops into an entire night of dreams. Dreams that broke the nearly month long no-dream streak. It was good to see her again (lol)... in my mind's eye. I was so in love with her back then... Sean and I were best friends back during most of mine and Jessica's almost four year relationship, so he knew her when she and I were an us. Anyway, that was strange. Maybe I'm back on the dreamy gravy train with biscuit wheels and it'll be smooth sailin' to la-la land every night from now on (for a while). That would be nice. I don't feel like moving from this spot. I have to go to the bank. Grrrr!

Mission accomplished. I bought a new charger (obviously made by 7 year old children in a Malaysian sweat shop) and am cell reachable again. Woo-hoo! Stephen and I went to Hooters. I really hate that place. It was on the way home and an easy place to purchase a sandwich and a pitcher of beer for cheap. After spending hella cash on dinner last night, that was appealing. Stephen had eaten a deep dish pizza already with Billy Bob (no, that's not his name), so he was just there for beer. I had a big, fatty philly cheese steak sandwich. The little songs and games were annoying as hell. Why would someone work in that environment? Stephen got roped into doing the "hokey-pokey" while I ate peacefully. Homey don't play that. Anyhoo, we were educated on the rules. Obviously the same rules that keep me out of frequenting that establishment. Only 4 beers per person... per visit. Four beers is like when you take that little cup of mouthwash at the dentist and swish it around before you spit it out. Four beers is a glass of water. Four beers is piss. Four beers is not even a buzz to a 2 year old midget. Oh well, rule number two: no pitchers to a single patron... ie. I can't go there and order a pitcher. It must be 2 or more people. Fucking ridiculous. I can count the number of Hooters visits I have had in the last decade on 1 hand. I remember why now. Oh yeah, this was the best part. The ditsy waitress we had (probably young enough to be my daughter) thought my ID was fake. No effin way I was that old... must be BS. Riiiiight.... I had to show her my fake VISA, my fake AMEX, and all the fake business cards I made to make my fake DL more believable. That is just too funny. Some stranger IM'd me tonight. Apparently found the site off the mike project page that has my big ass lips, beer gut, and earings on it. They called me an "old fart". That shit made me smile. Yeppers... that's me... oatmeal every morning before I put my teeth back in. Thank gawd for Viagra. LOL! I might just cry. Anyhoo, Eclair (my dog) is over swimming (again) at Jean-Paul's house. She loves the pool... can't keep her out. I may have to get a house with a pool just for her. I am still feeling sub-par, so I think I'll stay home tomorrow and rest. Speaking of... I feel some sleepytime coming on... bon nuit!

I am still not feeling well, so I got a ride home with Joe. We both worked late, so we didn't even get out of the office until after 6:30. Joe is "old school" employee and I am a "new" guy (meaning, his friends have been co-workers for decades and I've only been there less than 2 years). A lot of his friends were laid off today. There was a gathering at the "old" bar that they used to go to... he wanted to go. It wasn't my place to stand in the way. After all, I am the free passenger here. I knew what lay ahead without even consciously thinking about it. We arrived at the parking lot... he was eager to meet up with "the guys" and drown sorrows in beer. I country way of "pourin' a fo-tee fo yo homies" if you will. She was there. I saw her car as soon as we turned the corner. I wanted to participate and be a supportive member of the group... offer my condolences... buy a round or two. I just couldn't. I felt so awkward. I don't want to say I won't go back again... I just need to kill the butterflies in my stomach. Was I so much a fool to believe that the click wasn't one sided. I, apparently, was that very thing. So, I thanked him graciously for his assistance in getting me closer to home and packed up my six-guns (a geek's laptop) and hit the trail... get along lil' dogie. My nifty little MP3 player kept me company and I played music to take my mind off it. I am an idiot. Truly... an idiot. I was about half way home (from the commencement of my walk) when John (friend from work) saw me and picked me up. I knew he was dying to know why I was on foot. I couldn't talk about it. He knows them. He knows her. Telling someone in a circle of friends, no matter how good their intentions, is like gently dropping a tiny pebble on the placid, smooth surface of a tiny pond. The ripples of that shared confidence will spread throughout the circle... soon reaching the one bank of the pond that you never wanted to disturb. Denial and preoccupation is the best medicine for me right now because I know that in time, I'll forget what I was denying and it will have never happened (not really, but I was practicing the whole denial bit). So, Stephen is coming by to take me to the Galleria at 8:00. I know that is cutting it close, but I need a cell phone charger as mine is in Sean's bedroom (in Austin... 3 hours away). Until then, my only mobile connectivity to the outside world is pager. I never get paged because everyone calls my cell. The other day, my pager went off and I was looking around... "what the hell is that?". In retrospect, it was quite hilarious. I hope she is doing great. Sadly, I still find myself disappointed. She was great. I really, really, really, really do not want to clean the house. (sigh...)