Yearly Archive: 2002

Celebrity Run-In: Michael Crichton

My sister called me this morning and told me Michael Crichton was going to be signing books at the Wal-Mart in Euless, and she’d heard about it on the local radio station. So we blazed out there after work and got in line. I bought myself a book as well as one for my sister, since she told me about it. He’s every bit as cool as I thought he’d be.

   

At first, while shaking his hand, I asked him if I could come around back and get a picture taken with him. His security guard said, “No, no, move on please.” Then Michael looked up as I was walking away and said, “Did you want a picture with me? That’s fine, come on back here, Space.” So I went back and got the shot. That was pretty bad ass of him. You know he probably wouldn’t just do that for anyone. But since he knew I’d be writing about it on a major website, he was cool with it. Well, that, and plus we’re old friends too.

How Not to Grill Steaks

Sometimes I wonder how I made it this far. I mean – I like to think of myself as at least a reasonably intelligent guy. Well, I know I’m not stupid. But last night I did something that made me believe otherwise.

Check this out. We had a party. There were like twenty-five people over, and the plan was to cook steaks for everyone. My grill isn’t really all that big. You can fit like six to eight steaks on it at a time. When I found out that many people were coming, I had to run to the store and get another six pack of steaks. I cooked almost twenty steaks last night. For real. I had every single one of my big ass platters (all three) out and was preparing these steaks on them. Marinade. Steak salt. Worcestershire sauce. Liquid Smoke. The works. These steaks kicked serious amounts of ass.

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Women Drivers – An Oxymoron?

I know, I know, you’re all getting sick of hearing about how bad women drivers are. But they keep staying bad. And I had to laugh this morning on my way to work when I saw an overturned SUV in the middle of an intersection.

Now I would never laugh at someone’s misfortune or injury. But I gladly laugh at their stupidity. Because I am of the opinion that 100% of accidents can be avoided with defensive driving. You might not be able to prevent someone REAR-ENDING YOU, but the person behind you COULD HAVE PAID ATTENTION (what a novel idea) and prevented it themselves. So when some pompous SUV driving idiot tries to make a light when it’s yellow – and they’re still a hundred yards out – they end up running through an intersection, phone glued to head, on a red light. They deserve to be plowed into. Teach their ass a lesson.

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Everyone is out to get me!

No joke, every six months, someone wants to mess my shit up. Someone comes out of nowhere, not PAYING ATTENTION, and SLAM. Three days after I got my Durango, someone decided it was time to sandwich me in it. So I was without it for two weeks while it got repaired. Then some stupid little uninsured bitch decided it was time to slam into my wife’s car. And now, the Durango again.

Yesterday, sitting at a red light, the woman in front of me was the first in line. The light greened and she stalled out. I obviously didn’t move because I WAS PAYING ATTENTION so I just waited patiently. Well the guy behind me decided it was time to go, since he saw the other lane moving. He obviously wasn’t PAYING ATTENTION to what was going on in his lane. You know, the shit that mattered. So he slammed into my bumper. Now I have to take the damn truck in for another week or two to get it repaired. All new rear end. The place I always take my vehicles is overbooked right now, so it will be a while. You know, I’m on a first name basis with them guys since so many people like to drive without PAYING ATTENTION. People need to get they heads out of they asses and start taking driving a little more seriously. It ain’t a damn game where you wreck and game over you lose your quarter. Put your damn phone away and watch what the hell you’re doing.

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My War on Wasps

I hate wasps and hornets. They piss me off. I respect them, because – unlike ants – you have to piss them off before they sting you. But I still hate them sons of bitches. They all live up under the eave of my house thinking they own the place, and they dive bomb me when I’m trying to relax in my pool with a beer.

What I want to know, is how the hell do they know how to sting? It’s obviously inborn behavior, but it’s still a mystery to me. At what point in their lives do they become aware of the fact that that stinger on they tail is a weapon? No one teaches them that shit. They just know. And some wasps die after they sting you. So what’s the point of stinging if you know your ass is gonna die? screw that.

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SpaceBrew Review: Mullholland Drive

Let me just say how much of a waste of time this was: it was a severe waste of time. I mean, I’ve sat through bad movies before, but this… This shit was worse than Highlander. This was the epitome of a shitty movie. It was written and directed by the same guy who did Twin Peaks, and all his stuff is the same. He tries for this abstract artsy type feel, and – well, he achieves that – but at the expense of entertainment. This movie is so abstract and ‘artsy’ that it fails to have a plot.

I’ve heard all the different takes on what actually happened in the movie, and I have my own as well. I understood it just fine. That’s not the problem, as it’s obviously not some low-brow B Movie. The problem was that even though I understood it, I found myself asking why? To what end? Who gives a shit what it means if it’s not interesting? So the whole first half of the movie was this girl’s fantasy, and the whole second half was reality. And… Well, that’s it. So now that we know that, what’s there to understand? It’s just gay.

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SpaceBrew Review: Whoa, Nelly!

My selected artist of the year award (which I give away every few years) this year goes to Nelly Furtado. It’s been many moons since I’ve listened to an album as musical as Whoa, Nelly! I didn’t have much hope for it, since she’s nineteen years old and all her inspirations were R&B singers. Blech. But I was hyperterrifically impressed not only with her diversity, but also her ability to write. She writes some of the most appealing, ear-catching music I’ve ever heard, and I’ve found I like every song on the album. She’s got songs ranging from sexy piano bar music to upbeat techno funk stuff, to rock ballads. This shit rocks, people. (I won’t mention that I think she’s hot.)

Chicken had this to say about Nelly Furtado: “Her voice will be the death of me.” Well, I suppose her voice is a little edgy, but I’ve found that’s exactly what I like about it. It’s definitely unique. And only when she wants it to sound like that does it even get that way. When she’s singing some of her slower songs, her voice is soft and sexy. I’ve found it to be like the Dallas Cowboys, whereas you either love it or you hate it. But if you’re a music-minded person, you’ll dig the album in spite of her edgy vocal quality – or perhaps because of it. She’s got class.

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Prejudice Dogs

My dog loves people. Just about anyone who comes to my house is immediately accepted and loved, and treated like family. This is not the case if he feels threatened, or if my wife is home alone. In those cases, he’s in attack mode anytime anyone comes to the door. But under normal conditions, my dog is super friendly and is ready to play rope tug with anyone who comes by.

Everyone but Mexicans.

I don’t know what his deal is, but on Thursdays when those guys come to mow my lawn, Hunter goes apeshit. My main man Aaron owns his own landscaping company, and sends his boys out once a week to mow my lawn for me. Now don’t get me wrong, I love these guys. Sometimes when they finish up, I invite them in and give them beers. But my dog don’t like it one bit. I guess he thinks these guys are there to kill us all.

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Good News: Suicide is Legal

Here’s my bitch: that 43-year-old woman in the UK who wants to die is petitioning on the Internet, trying to get the law changed because assisted suicide is illegal in the UK. You can get up to 14 years in the pen for helping someone kill themselves. But here’s the funny thing… Suicide is legal. What the what? Can I hear that again? Sure thing, Space. Suicide is legal. Woooohooo!!! Whoa! Thank God for that!

Yeah, well I quoted that from this article. Here’s the syntax, for those who don’t want to leave the site. “Suicide is legal in England, but helping someone else kill themselves is a crime under the 1961 Suicide Act, punishable by up to 14 years in prison.”

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Qualms With Star Movies

I have a bunch of qualms with Star Trek. For some people, all those interstellar movies are the hot shit. But I’ve found that Star Wars and Star Trek cannot peacefully coexist on the same shelf. For most people, it’s either one or the other. First of all, there’s the fact that all the shit in Star Trek is brand new looking. Like it’s never been used. Never been flown through a stellar dust cloud, or blown through an asteroid belt. Star Wars opposes. All the shit in Star Wars looks like it’s been around the universe a few times. Taken a beating. Looks a little more realistic.

Secondly, it pisses me off that Star Trek uses an up reference in deep space. why the hell are all the spacecraft planed on the same scale? Why is it that when two ships come in for close range combat, they are both upright? As if there is some universal up in null gravity. Obviously there is no up or down in null gravity. This tells me that some of the shots of the ships taken from distances should show the ship at awkward angles, not relative to the up and down you know sitting in front of your television screen. And furthermore, when there are two ships on the same screen, they won’t be exactly nose to nose, and there won’t be a common up. It just won’t happen, people.

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Down In a Hole

It seems everyone is doing it these days. It’s the cool thing to do. Become a legend and rake in the money and the women and the fans and the love, then give it all to an addiction. It’s cool, it’s fun, it feels good. Hey, everyone else is doing it!

What’s this, number ten in as many years? It not only pisses me off, but it saddens me deeply that we keep losing the best ones to the worst enemy. Drugs. I can think of at least ten in the business who we could lose and not count as loss. But Layne?

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Man Falls to Death in Las Colinas

Sander and I were eating at the Italian joint down the way yesterday and took notice of the fifteen cop cars and six fire trucks all parked in front of the new 17-storey apartment complex being built. All the construction workers were outside and none of them were working. We knew something was up.

So I call my friend Sully, who is the Engineer on the project. She said she couldn’t tell me what had happened but to call her tomorrow and she’d tell me. But she said it was pretty bad. So we ate and the suspense was killing me. I had to wait ’til this morning to find out what the hell happened.

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Chick Games

Why is it that women wear things that show off their beautiful bodies? That’s it. No buts attached to that question. We obviously aren’t allowed to look at them, so why is it that they force us to by wearing these things which accentuate their better parts? I’ve been less than happy with the results I get when I give them the attention they so obviously crave. Don’t tell me that these women don’t have a choice in what they buy. If the only clothing available on the racks was this stuff that shows midriff and cleavage, and hip-huggers, then all the old women out there would be wearing the same things.

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America: A Suit-Happy Nation

I’ve told you all we’re a suit-happy nation. If someone spills coffee on her lap she wants to sue McDonald’s. If someone forgets to put on his seatbelt and goes through the windshield, he wants to sue Ford. Now the woman whose son crashed his Cessna into the empty building… She wants to sue the people who make the drug he was taking for acne.

No one wants to take the blame for anything these days. No one wants to be accountable or take responsibility for the stupid shit they do. They look ignorant in front of everyone, so they want to take a power trip to wealth to feel better. Sue, sue, sue!

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Selective Astrobiology

Scientists recently began to believe there may be life on Europa, one of Jupiter’s moons. They’ve been digging in Barrow Alaska through the ice, and they’ve found life there, despite its -4º temperature. Lake Vostok, which is in the heart of Antarctica, may be their test ground for building a probe that would drill through the ten-mile ice layer on Europa. Lake Vostok is covered by a two-mile thick plate (sheet? layer?) – yeah layer of ice. If they can build a probe that will drill through the ice and sample the water beneath, we may have a shot at discovering whether or not there’s life in the waters of Europa. An alien lake.

You know what fascinates me though? I love Astrophysics and Cosmology and the study of other planets and their surfaces. But not for biology. Who the heck cares if there’s microbes living at the bottom of a Jovian lake? What good is it going to do us? For one thing, we have no way to kill all the microbes that live on our probes, so we may be populating the waters with our own trash. Unless we can keep our shit at absolute zero for a couple of years, then have a way to ensure that killed everything permanently, then furthermore have a way to knock all the dead things off once our probe is en route to Europa… It’s all useless.

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C.E.V.

There are only two or three things in this world that piss me off more than when I find piss on the toilet seat. And I can’t really think of them right now.

You see, the whole qualm I have with it – besides it just being low class and disgusting, not to mention lazy – is that when you work in a corporate office such as we have here, you should no longer be a child. Obviously we have children working here, because no one has taught them how to raise a damn toilet seat before they micturate. And nothing pisses me off (short those couple of things I can’t think of right now) more than going in there to take care of business and having to wipe someone else’s piss off the seat. You don’t piss on the seat at home, asshole, so why do you do it where you work? Because you know Consuelo will be coming in to clean it up, huh? Children. Even my dog has better sense than that (inset picture).

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Clans and Coffee Talk

I think I’ve reached boiling point. I’m so sick of all the bullshit psychic wannabes on the television. All these fruitcakes who can supposedly tell my fortune and my future over the phone. I really only have one word to say about these people: what the hell Ever.

What I’m real sick of is these clans and cults that form over the shit. That shit pisses me off. All these stupid asses that follow some dude that preaches that heaven awaits behind a comet. And get this: We’re all gonna kill ourselves wearing purple and having a roll of quarters in our pockets. Why? Well to call home when our spirits reach the ship, of course!

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The Sinister Sisters Behind the Curtain

There’s no doubting that women rule the world. Anyone who doesn’t believe that, try living with one for a few weeks. You’ll catch on. I’m just wondering why so many of them are psycho. You remember that movie Beautiful Girls? Michael Rappaport says it perfectly: “They’re all sisters. You never let them behind the curtain. They’re all sisters.” What a brilliant man he was. That’s exactly what they are.

Otherwise, how would they all know when we screw up? And you notice whenever you’ve been single for a while and you finally find someone worth checking into, that’s when they all come to call. When it rains it pours, gentlemen. They all know. It’s like a little alarm in their heads go off saying “Johnnie’s got a girl now! Set tits to stun! Go get him girls!” And they do. They all come around. But you never see that shit happening when you’re single. Well, unless you’re like me. But that’s beside the point.

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Nicotine Lollipops

Good day, Crater Faces. Another month is upon us, and another item of controversy has sprung up on the shelves. Every year we digress as a society, to the point of which we will finally become a sludge pit just like Palestine. Children are learning to kill at younger and younger ages, and all we do is feed it to them, on a shiny silver spoon we call television. In Europe they show nudity in commercials and on regular television. Here we show murder. Crime. Killing and rape, guns, drugs, and a whole slew of other bullshit that has somehow become acceptable. I’d much rather my children see a naked body than a dying one on television.

And don’t hand me that hogwash line “Well that’s the real world, Brandon”. Yeah, only because we make it that way. Anyway, to the point. This item I speak of is the latest development in smoking cessation. The nicotine lollipop.

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Good Friday

As we all finish out our work weeks today and prepare to go home for the weekend, I would like everyone to remember what this weekend stands for. This is Easter weekend. Today is Good Friday, the day our Lord was crucified. He rose again on Sunday.

So how do we celebrate it?

Well, of course… It’s obvious, right? A big fat bunny that lays eggs. We celebrate the death of the only sinless man ever to walk the earth by lying to our children and generally spreading old spoiled mayonnaise on the bread of truth for them. No one tells their children about Jesus and the horrible thing that happened to him – but the good news that he rose again. Even if you don’t believe it, it sure would make the world a better place if we taught our children to love. Instead, we make up some bogus crap about a bunny that – well, I don’t even know what the hell the bunny does.

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And they were none too happy.

She’d blown past us at the intersection. I looked out my window and shouted, but she didn’t hear. I told Flavio to speed up. We were on the way back from lunch, and now we sat stalled by a stop light. She was two cars ahead and one lane to the right. We couldn’t get her. Damn!

“She’s gorgeous, dude. You have to get up there so you can check on her,” I shouted. Before lunch I had said, “Should I bring my camera? In case we see anything happen during lunch?” He’d said yes. “Cool. You drive. I’ll shoot.” So I rode shotgun to Quizno’s.

Now we’re at the stop light. I’m shaking my head like a box of rice fidgeting. The camera! Yes. I reached back and unzipped it from its pouch and pulled it up. Cocked it, readied and focused. She cuts into our lane and turns left ah

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The Ever-Elusive Airplane Crash

I live near an airport. Well about ten to fifteen miles away, I suppose. But it’s the third busiest airport in the world. An international one. Thus planes are constantly flying right over my house, and generally pretty low, on their way to landing. My supposition is that these aircraft are somewhere between five- and ten-thousand feet. It’s quite common to be awakened by the sound of the engines screaming through the night, directly above me. Especially when I have my windows open.

So I started thinking last night about the plausibility of a crash landing in my bedroom. Here’s the control set I theorized under: The world as we know it will not end, ever, but will last infinitely. Aircraft will infinitely be flying over my house, as they are today, and the technology will remain fairly constant. Meaning they will still use conventional fuel and conventional thrust and drag technology. Assuming all this, my question was this: As long as they are flying over my house evermore, what is the probability that one would someday crash into my house?

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Storm’s Run-in with Tiffany

My associate and good friend Storm had a little run in today. Being a professional photographer, he “happened to be” at the Tower Records Playboy Signing tonight. so he caught some excellent pictures of Tiffany. Oh. My. God. I was just talking about liking Tiffany and that she’s in the new Playboy and everything then he suddenly comes along and sends me pictures of himself with her. Bastard.

I think she looks better in these photos than the Playboy ones. Well besides the fact that she isn’t naked, I mean, she just looks more natural. No airbrushing either. And those tits! I think the buttons on that shirt must have popped off. These are four of the fifty or so that he sent me. And of course, I bled the color out and pasted a tag on them for his benefit. But if you want to see more, you can carry your lazy ass over to his site and order the full size ones. Eat your heart out, kinetic kim:


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Space Saving 101

I’ve been thinking lately about the concept of governmentally invoked population control methodology. You know, like AIDS and stuff. You know that shit didn’t just happen. It had to be introduced. DNA structures don’t suddenly alter themselves to a detrimental deficit. Not even in African Green Monkeys. If that were the case, then I would expect all you idiots who believe we evolved from lower forms to seriously revise your theoretical foundations.

So anyway, I was thinking about these methods they use among other things, like conspiracy theories and the way people just disappear when they know too much. Shit like that. And I came up with an idea. Why don’t we shrink our problems away?

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A Childhood Dream Comes True

Sweet goodness look at those boobs.I was sitting at a bar with my cousin and a friend this weekend having some beers, catching up on stuff. Well, we’re kind of regulars there, so we get on pretty well with the bartender. Anyway, she comes up and says, “Remember little Tiffany? The singer?” I was like, “Yeah. Of course. I used to adore her.” She says, “Well check this out,” and flops the magazine down on the bar. Lo and behold, there in front of me are Tiffany’s voluptuous breasts. I was disgusted. I can’t stand looking at women’s breasts, you know? Especially when they are that large and round and soft, and when I used to be infatuated with said person.

But it’s little Tiffany. Remember the pop singer from about 15 years ago (God, has it been that long?) who sang such hits as “I Think We’re Alone Now” and “I Saw Him Standing There”? When I was thirteen I was in love with her. I had Tiffany posters and her album, and many fantasies to boot. She was hotter than the lit end of a cigarette. I even went and saw her in concert, and some band we’d never heard of opened up for her. They were called New Kids on the Block. We saw her at the Six Flags Music Mill Amphitheatre. Oh what a show. And now this. Oh yes, my friends. My day has finally come. (So to speak.)

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Lines, lines, lines…

I’ve got something on my mind that’s been pissing me off lately. It’s about waiting in lines. I was standing at the grocery store the other night, waiting patiently to give them my money. The cashier two lanes over opens up and the dude behind me bolts over there like he’s running for his life. Then that checker steps out and says, “Sir, you can come down here.” So I walked on over there. This dude is all looking at me like he’s nervous, but at the same time, he wasn’t about to give me his place in line.

Now. My gripe is this: What in the hell makes him think he should be in front of me? I was in front of him in this line over here, and granted, he ran to the other one first. But my theory is that if a new checkstand opens, it should serve the people who have been waiting the longest. At the fronts of the lines. Not from the backs. I’ve been waiting ten minutes longer than this lunger, but he gets to be in front of me in the new line?

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We’re Not PC Enough

On my way to work this morning I heard on the radio that about 1500 people are lined up to sue New York City for damages incurred on 9/11. Let me say this again. 1500 people are going to sue New York City for dust damage and smoke inhalation and stuff like that. Are we a suit-happy nation? In the heat of those terrorist attacks against our country, we have people living here claiming to be Americans who want to sue their own city because it was attacked?!? What the hell are you people thinking? Why don’t you sue the al Qaeda network? Sue Afghanistan! what the hell kind of patriots are you that want to sue your own country for being attacked?

That to me is like suing your home builder because your wife got murdered and got blood on the carpet. Why don’t you sue Ford because someone rear-ended your pickup? I am so sick and tired of hearing about people wanting to sue other people. Everyone wants a quick buck and they shamelessly pursue it, without regard for taste, coherency, or humanity. That is completely and totally ludicrous. And it fills me with rage beyond that which words can describe. I say anyone that wants to sue their own city because it was attacked by terrorists should be deported immediately. Don’t want to leave? Fine. Bullet to the head. Extradition or execution. Your choice. You should be donating to help relieve New York. Not suing them to get rich, you arrogant insensitive pricks.

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How to Avoid a Ticket

I was driving home last night on this old back highway that’s not very popular. Only about 70 million people use it during the day, as opposed to the normal 140 million who clog the other highways around here. So it’s only mildly jammed, you know what I mean? Well anyway, I didn’t get out of work ’til about seven o’clock, so on this highway, I seemed to be the only person traveling. So I was running along about ninety mph over the line and I ran by a cop car.

You know that feeling you get when you fly past a cop car and you’re doubling the speed limit? My heart fell to my stomach and just utterly refused to continue beating. I had to give myself shock therapy from my battery to get it going again, but that’s another story… So I whiz past this sumbitch who’s sitting on the side of the road. He pulls out. After a couple of seconds, I was already around the bend, so I slowed way the hell down and changed lanes. I was waiting for him to come pounce on me like a duck on a june bug.

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Boycott movie trailers!

Movie trailers are beginning to really irritate me. They have gotten so good at making movies look really really good. Then you go see them based on the weight of the trailer, and the movie blows horse snot. I’ll give you some examples. Number one is Vanilla Sky. I had so many people telling me it was a great movie, and that it had a good twist at the end. Okay, so I watched the trailer. Excellent! I can’t wait to see it.

It sucked. Well, that’s not really fair either. Most of it was good, but

Spoilers Doodz
when you find out it was all his mind that made all that mysterious shit happen, because of the EL dream package… Hogwash! What a waste of a good plot! The whole story could have been excellent if they wouldn’t have turned that direction. I thought overall it was a waste of a movie plot at that point.

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Another New Year’s Party

Well I survived all the drinking and all the parties and all the people and all the bullshit that comes with a new year. On new year’s eve we had about 60 people over for a party of our own. We didn’t want to go anywhere, because of the danger out on the roads. So instead we had all our loved ones and friends brave the dangers and come to us. We had a big bucket everyone dropped their keys in, and no one left until the next morning anyway. Most people passed out on the stairs or by the fireplace, the couches… wherever they could find that wasn’t taken.

Some interesting people showed up this year. I should let you know ahead of time that yes we did go to Bob’s Bowl-A-Rama. We bowled until about 9:30, then took to the house, as our party was supposed to start at 10. Well, we picked up about ten people at Bob’s who wanted to come along. Some of them old friends, and some of them even more. Embarrassingly enough, three – count ’em, three – of my ex-girlfriends ended up being at the party. Phew. That was some scary shit. Mainly because now they know where I live. There were no real issues though. (Not counting the part where Storm had to run out and roll in the snow because Marie caught his pants on fire with the incense burner… I told Storm I wouldn’t mention that. Oops!) Oh, that and when George fell off my loft and landed in the beanbag. Those little white foam balls will take the next nine years to clean up.

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