Yesterday was our dear left handed genital Brett P. Lydacus Extremicus' Birthday, day of the natal passing into the reverse-void known as the material world. Welcome, Brett. Welcome some more.
Word on the streets was that he had a fine little joint-b-day shindig in a park in Pasadena, California, USA. EvanJunkie Alan also had a birthing round bout the same day-o-the-month as Brett, so they jointly celebrated and were celebrated, in that delightful reciprocity that comes with all kinds of parties focused around people and their achievements, be they living or doing.
So, I didn't go to the party. This was do to a working agreement that I have with my significant other, in which I record Saturday afternoon College Football whilst he works hard for his money. I then give him no indication of how the games went, and he watches them at night when he gets home. At first I thought this obsession with College Football was simply ridiculous, however, after watching yesterday's USC/Notre Dame game, my conversion to USC football enthusiasm is complete.
Having imbibed two Rockstar Energy Drinks during the game and consumed some spicy chicken wings, I was in a terrible state by the end. On the verge of crying, in shock, overly excited, heart racing, sick to my stomach, and screaming like a frightened monkey. Complete insanity.
If you saw the game, you know what I'm talking on. Whatever side you were rooting for, that was the single-most exciting and insane ending of any football game ever (I put that out there with my incredibly limited knowledge of football games past, of course, but holy crappants... That was intense!)
So here I am today. Feeling emotionally spent (I watched the game AGAIN with the SO when he got home, engaging myself emotionally once more, as if I'd never seen it), feeling kind of like an ass for not going to Brett's party (he did make the day at my Chuck E Cheese birthday celebration by bringing the THING crusher hands), and getting ready to go off to some meetings about all things theatrical, and then reporting to the rehearsal studio at 8 for the Evangenitals practice extra-ordinare.
I paid a guy $100 to take care of my lawn today. He's my neighbor, and has the single most cute and wondrous lawn care skills I have ever seen. Our lawn, on the other hand, was overgrown and hideous, with trash in the yard (from construction, etc) and some strange corn-like plants starting to sprout. Weeds were overtaking the front door. Madness. Though I know there are cheaper ways to conquer the mess, I was willing to pay the price of convenience (split the price of convenience, I should say, with Senor SO).
My dog is sleeping on the bed, and I'm going to leave him in the house even though nobody is home because it is raining and it's too cold and rainy to put him outside. He fell in the pool last night while we were watching the game. 5 minutes left in the fourth quarter, and David's sister starts screaming that the dog is in the pool. There he was, clinging to the side, splashing in the freezing water. Goddamn. What if he falls in when we're not here? Goddamn.
Time to fly. There's my jibba jabba. Mumbo jumbo.
Keep the faith, yo.