Written about 30 seconds before heading out to Friday Night In A College Town

You know what I just realized? I'm never going to get drunk again! Never again!

And this is not because of some new-found moderation; oh no. This is because there will never again be a night as long as I live when I don't have to fucking drive myself and others home. Never! It's just not gonna happen!

I'm not even talking about blissful reason-losing shitfaced here. I'm talking about the normal, pleasant, able-to-interact-with-near-strangers type of wasted. I'm talking a four beer buzz. This is the whole reason I never went to bars at TAC! Not because I was stony broke, although that too -- it was because I'd have to twist someone's arm behind their back to get them to drive for me!

See, in the Czech Republic...and I shouldn't even start this, I know...in fucking Bohemia, I could take public trans home. Or I could freaking walk, pretty much without fear of getting raped. Here, not so much. FRUSTRATION. How am I supposed to make friends with these pod people if I can't get my swerve on?? I ASK YOU.

Ok, gonna post this and drive off into the night, cursing my stone-cold sobriety.

We're not hemophilic. Not quite.

So I'm sitting here, surfing my wireless broadband connection, idly scratching a vicious mosquito bite on my ankle, when I feel something tickling my foot. Oh hey...it's a fucking STREAM of blood coming from the afore mentioned bite. DAMMIT.

And thus, as I staunched it with a paper napkin, I pondered, once again, all the things that my beloved brother and I have in common: our worldview, our deep love of music, our ability to talk over anyone, and...our tendency to bleed like stuck pigs at the slightest laceration suffered by our milky white skin. Must be the Romanov blood.

what is this self-discipline you speak of?

And here I am again, surfing aimlessly instead of studying, about get myself well down the road to serious butt-fuckedness as far as law school goes, all because I remain congnitally incapable of exerting effort for more than two minutes continuously. WHY IS THIS?? Why must I arse around until late at night? WHY HAVE I NO GUMPTION?!?

If gumption's the word I'm looking for. I think maybe it's not...I tend to associate it with informing someone that These Boots Are Gonna Walk All Over Him (i.e., the someone). But I dunno.

Ok, Civil Procedure, here we come. Or...maybe I should start with Torts. Or...hey, look over there! Shiny!

Sigh.

It doesn't have to be in Latin -- anything but English is fine, really

Well yes, I suppose it is true that Our Blessed Lord "took the fall for us." Nonetheless, I'd rather not hear it expressed in this way right after the Consecration. Particularly not by a pimply-faced youth wielding an electic guitar.

Also, I'm not sure what the deal is when some chick stands up after Communion and gives a twenty second "message." Is that even part of the service? All I know is, the silly bint managed to (a) pronounce the word "rigid" with a hard /g/, and (b) encourage us to work on accepting ourselves and others just as we are, because really, everyone's good inside -- after all, that's what Christ was trying to show us when he forgave Peter for his betrayal.
Yeah, ok, everyone's good inside...everyone except for me, that is, because I'm still trying to decide whether it was (a) or (b) that cheesed me off more.

But all things come to an end at some point, even ill-conceived recessionals with clumsy drum solos. After it was all over and and I'd staggered out into the Georgia evening sauna, I figured out it was a Life Teen Mass, which explains why I could feel my throat closing up the whole time. So maybe next week we'll check out the en Español options.

I feel like such a perv...I'm driving around and parking next to random apartment complexes to feed off the unsecured wireless networks of those inside.




Ah shit, I broke the silence, didn't I. Oh well, at least it wasn't anything substantive.