Foggy Morning

I got a smoothie for breakfast. I offered up a card for payment. The clerk laughed and handed the card back to me. It was my driver’s license.

That should have been my first clue to go back home and crawl under the covers. The second came when I arrived at work and reached for the keycard on my belt.

I forgot my belt.

Moving FWD>>

Just purchased tickets for Friday night.

Do you have yours?

Too much sleep and not enough Dennis Quaid

I suffer from chronic and constant inconsistency. My tastes change on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis. It’s my curse, or my blessing.

Thickets suck. Don’t get stuck in a thicket lest you learn to agree with me.

When I was a kid, I would eat as much spaghetti as I could stand. Then I’d drink a glass of water, go outside and run around in circles until I puked. After using a lighter to set fire to the vomit pile, I would hide out under the porch, waiting for fairies to show up and save the forest from burning to the ground. The fairies never came. The forest never burned. I never did any of that.

Still, fairies piss me off. ‘cept Tink.

If you believe in fairies, I do believe your thought process pisses me off.

Dreamcatchers hanging on rearview mirrors piss me off, too.

Are you napping while you drive? Well, stop.

Do you sleep in your car? Well, whatever, I guess that does suck. You’re allowed to have a dreamcatcher on your review mirror in that case.

I wish you had a bed, though.

Stick that in your dreamcatcher and dream it.

If you show up with a wolf-howling-at-the-moon t-shirt, I will judge you.


What’s the verdict? That’s for me to know.

Don’t worry, I’m in no position to judge anyone. I owned a Big Johnson t-shirt. Feel free to judge me.

Stick this up your robe and Judge it...


This Saturday = The Zawadas + Metalsome.

So over paragraphs

I should write something.

I could write something.

I will.

Aimee and I are saving large chunks of cash to buy a house within the next year.

We’re not sure what part of Atlanta we will choose.

East Atlanta is looking good.

The chunks of cash we are saving really aren’t that big.

We’re budgeting to make them bigger.

In that spirit, I have declared today No Spend Tuesday.

I know it’s not very catchy.

I don’t care.

I just care that I won’t spend one red cent today.

I made my breakfast and skipped Planet Smoothie.

I made my lunch and avoided the café.

We have Turkey sausage, bought a few days ago, thawing in the fridge.

Not even a soda today.

I’m hoarding all my dollars.

How long can I go?

I should really spend to stimulate this economy.

Sorry, it’s my fault.

I’ll buy something, tomorrow.

Just not today, not on No Spend Tuesday.

--

Last night, I had improv class.

I didn’t want to go.

I’m not feeling very outgoing lately.

I’ve been very introspective.

I am glad that Aimee made me go.

I met Clunky Robot.

He’s wrote a play with Zombie Sitcom.

They were rehearsing.

It comes out in a few weeks.

Clunky was nice.

It was good to meet him.

Class was also good.

I was a fish.

Then I was a seven-year-old expert on bunk beds.

Then I was a surly State Trooper.

Then I realized I have a bad habit of cracking.

I laugh when I want to leave a scene.

That’s not very graceful.

It was hot in Dad’s.

We got really thirsty.

I was downright parched.

We walked to the coffee shop across the street during a break.

I bought a Smart Water.

It has electrolytes.

Steve bought a Dasani.

He drank his Dasani at once and refilled the bottle with free water at the counter.

That was smart.

Are you ready to ROCK!?!

Thanks in no small part to Duane, I think we are.

Duane gave Aimee the Guitar Hero bug last night.

I hope she still has the fever because I'm hooked.

...sent from mobile...

MIA

I have so much to blog, but I don't know where to start. So much has
happened, is happening, is going to happen. It's overwhelming to think
about expressing it all.

Maybe I should just start small.

Tomorrow, perhaps.

...sent from mobile...

Improving on improv

Last night we went to the Couch Party at the Vortex Laughing Skull Lounge in Midtown.

If you don’t know what that is, you owe it to yourself to find out. It runs Thursdays at 8:00. It’s an experience of truth, enlightenment and testicular pwnage. There’s intrigue, incest and innuendo! I won a Mexican Feast! Aimee made out with Lucky Yates! An angel lost it’s keys. A good time was had by all.

To clarify, Couch Party is an Improv show that is heavy on audience participation. It’s a great format and a lot of fun. Mike Schatz, Amber Nash and Lucky Yates are high-larry-us. Go see this show. Now! Well, next Thursday* and every Thursday after that.

After the show, we booked it over to The Albert to meet Duane for some drinks. But, not before I took a detour through College Park. ‘Tis a silly place.

Seriously, Atlanta street designer civil guys… Is it too much to ask for a square block in this town? Make four right turns downtown and you end up in Alabama. Double-you-tee-eff?

*If, in fact, you are reading this on a Thursday and it is close to 8pm, by all means, do go now!

And the winner is...

No beard.


Aimee is very happy with the choice and that makes me happy. Now I need an honest haircut and touch of sun on my pale face. The beard will begin its triumphant return on the honeymoon because shaving is a total pain in the face.

Things are getting hairy around here

Last minute wedding preparations consume my thoughts… not really. I’m sucking wind on my side of the deal. I’m not much of a planner, organizer or director. Think of me as talent. I’m the Marlon Brando to Aimee’s Francis Ford Coppola. I’m difficult and temperamental, but can bust out a great performance every now and again. She’s consistent, hardworking and a genius. It might seem like I’m comparing our wedding to Apocalypse Now, because I am. It was hell to coordinate, but it’s going to be a masterpiece.

I caught a break yesterday when I took my suit for alterations. Seems I just made the cutoff in time to get the suit back in time for us to leave for Florida. I wouldn’t be typing this post had I not made the deadline. It’s next to impossible to type in a full body cast.

I still have to finish trimming and gluing the programs for the ceremony. I figure if I do ten a night, I’ll make that deadline, too. Yeah, that’s me trying to plan.

I must really like living on the edge, or subconsciously I’m drawn to the idea of nurses changing my bedpan while I lay in traction, slurping my dinner through a tube.

Mmm… pudding.

I also have to buy gifts for the Groomsmen. Oh, and ties as well. If I do not secure these items by Saturday at midnight, there will be no kickball for me on Sunday.

I wonder if Coppola ever threatened Brando with no kickball.

Also, I’m trying to decide on Beard or No Beard for the wedding day. Aimee is back and forth. I don’t care either way. Feel free to add your $.02 to the comments. I need to decide by Saturday because I’ll need to get some sun on my face before the ceremony if I decided to lose it.

So, what do you think?

Beard?


No Beard?

The temptation continues

... now with sprinkles.