How Do Fortune Cookies Always Know?

As a favor for picking her up from the airport, my friend treated me out to Thai food last night.

At the end of the meal they served fortune cookies. I cracked mine open expecting something along the lines of, "You are organized and thorough!" or something equally mundane.

To my surprise, I got a fortune that actually made me take a moment and sit back in my vinyl seat. I was impressed with the fortune telling skills of the Chinese:

Love can make a summer fly, or a night seem like a lifetime.

Damn that's good.

A Recap in Numbers

Time Departed for Party: 10:30 pm
Shots Taken Before Entering Bar: 5
Time Spoken with Janice (cumulative): 6 minutes
Girls' Phone Numbers Acquired by Leo: 1
Girls' Phone Numbers Acquired by Jack: 1
Weight Gained by Janice Since I Last Saw Her: 12-15 lbs

Drinks I Consumed That Weren't Mine (aka Fallen Soldiers): Approx. 6
Times I Ate Shit on my Rollerblades: 2
Strawberries/Gaping, Flesh Wounds on my body: 3
Contents in Stomach at End of Night: 0

Janice Returns

Remember her? If not, check out this too. Or this.

I haven't had any contact with her in months and I was confident that I'd never see her again. But last week, a random AIM box popped up. It was her.

We discussed nothing really substantial, catching up on how work has been, etc.

Janice: so where are you working now?
So@24: I'm still working at _____, but I actually just got back from an interview at ______.
Janice: OMG!!! i work within walking distance! we can do coffee and stuff! sooooooo coool

-rubs fingers on temples-

Just as I'm about ready to make an excuse to sign off (something along the lines of, "I think my penis has detached itself from the host and moving away from my body like an inchworm"), she drops a bomb on me.

Janice: you should come to my party on halloween
So@24: Yeah... I... I'm not quite sure what we're doing
Janice: well my girlfriends and i rented out a part of a bar in west hollywood. private bar. lots of girls
-ears perk-
So@24: Private bar, you say? Girls, you say?
Janice: you should commmmmmmmmme!
So@24: Hmmm. You've sold me. What's everyone going as?
Janice: ummmmmmmmmm... i'm going as a slutty snow white and my friend lindsay is going as the evil queen snow white. hot.
Janice: my other friend is going as strawberry shortcake. slutty. dont worry. everyone's going to be pretty skanky! lol!

Oh well. You know how I feel about these types of costumes, but I won't be complaining if there's plenty of eye candy. I'm just really sold at the private bar notion.

Why is it that people think that their chances of getting laid always increases when there's a "big" party? Everyone gets so pumped up and psyched out about these things that they think that it's absolutely guaranteed ass. Is that really the case?

So here we go again... tonight in West Hollywood, hanging out with Janice just to latch onto her like a parasite and use her for the resources of her friends dressed in sexy Halloween outfits. I guess I should feel guilty about this, but... meh.

This should be interesting.

It's Official

As of the 18th, it's been officially an entire calendar year since I have had relations with a female.

That's including anything involved as well. Like awkward, backseat fumbling, drunken make out sessions, etc.

Each day I come closer to purchasing a WoW account (I will be a Ranger... my name will be Gamblor), switching from my sevens to sweatpants, and living off of 7-11 nachos or Bagel Bites, and masturbating to Japanese anime.

It's been a fun ride, but I'd like to get off now please.

Calm Before the Storm

A horse brays in a nearby field, stamps its hoofs and becomes restless.

A tree full of black birds erupts in a cacophony of sound as they take
to the sky, spooked by some mysterious force...

...The windmill on the old barn, creaks. Begins to move. Faster.

... two children playing marbles stop and look to the sky. A large shadow (too large to be ignored) looms over their intense game. They gather up what marbles they can carry and run. Two marbles bounce out of their chubby grasp.

... the family bloodhound, known for her quite temperament, wakes up from her nap on the front stoop and begins to snarl and bark at "nothing"

... chickens in the hen house and flapping their wings wildly.

...the old rusty barn door bangs shut and swings open again and again

...Suddenly the needle on the ol' phonograph skips off the last track
and the soft melodies come to a screeching halt. Only a dark, rhythmic
hiss comes from it's speaker as the record continues to go round and
round, unattended....

***

In a few days it'll be the dreaded "one year anniversary". Not of the actual break up, but if Lynn and I were still dating it would be 7 years.

I don't think anyone really knows when the exact date is; I mean who really pays attention that closely to these dates except for the people directly involved?

And I think I'm doing okay. At least right now. My habits haven't changed, I haven't lost any sleep or weight, I'm not looking at old pictures or listening to "our songs". These are all good things.

But I am finding myself thinking about her a little more than usual; I'd be lying to myself if I said otherwise. No contact in almost a year. I wonder how she's doing. I wonder if she'll be affected at all in the next few days or even the day of. I'm sure these are all normal things ex-couples dwell on around this time.

I guess we'll just have to see how it'll go down. With any luck, it'll just be another Saturday.

Penny Lancaster (1024x768 & 1280x800 WideScreen)

Going Solo is Awkward.

The UCLA hunnies drunk dialed me on Friday night asking if I wanted to gather "my boys" and join them for an old fashioned bbq on Sunday. I was pretty pumped about this and I told them I'd do my best to rally the troops.

Unfortunately none of my friends seem to fancy their company. As in, Leo has made is absolutely clear he won't hang out with them again. And he's horrible at faking polite.

So where does that leave me exactly? As much as I've tried to defend them, the rest of my friends cannot be swayed. "Come on!" I exclaim, "It's a new scene, free booze, free food, a chance to meet some new people, whaddya say fellas?" All the responses have been stone cold glares while I sit with a huge smile and my arms stretched out.

Sunday morning, my cell wakes me up and it's Lisa. She wants to know if I want to meet her and Anna for brunch in their neck of the woods. "Bottomless mimosas!" I agree to go. Fuck it, I should be able to hang out with them if I want, right?

As I'm walking out the door, I yell out to Leo "Alright buddy, last chance to catch the fun train!" His back facing me, focused on his monitor, he throws up an arm which I take for "Have fun. Close that door on your way out."

I have my tunes on, my sunroof is down, I'm about to turn onto the 110 and then I crank the wheel at the last minute. I can't do this. I can't show up to this barbecue by myself! I'm a pretty sociable person... once I've gotten to hang out with you a few times. I'm not quite there yet with these girls and the drive is an hour away, not counting Los Angeles traffic.

Would I have been a complete tool to show up at their place, alone, not knowing them extremely well and not having any idea who their friends are? I get the feeling I'd be considered a little too aggressive or desperate, that I have nothing else better to do (which, let's be honest, I don't).

So I u-turned and walked up my steps defeated. Leo laughed and I had to make a call to Lisa explaining, "Yeah, I'd love to go but I can't get a hold of any of my friends to go with me! Raincheck?"

I spent the rest of the afternoon doing absolutely nothing, a completely wasted Sunday. How am I going to be able to hang out with them again with the embargo set by all of my friends?? I absolutely hate that my social life is dictated by that and there's nothing I can do about it. Should I have gone or would that have been completely awkward and toolish?




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Now playing: Jackson Browne - Running On Empty

Roomie Takes The Stand

Here is the exciting conclusion/explanation to this post. Straight from the roomie himself:

Roomie here, feel like I need to clear some things up for the rather embarrassing vibrators under the bed fiasco.

I did not put them there to impart some "get-laid" ju ju or hocus pocus on my SO@24's soul. Although that's not a bad idea. No, alas there is an easy explanation.

I left for France for a couple weeks and rented out my room to my buddy Shane. Shane has a new girlfriend and they're in that PDA "lovey" phase that makes you want to stab them and yourself.

Anyway, they have sex a lot. Shane is known to have a kink or two in him, and he's known for "snooping".... so I hid my shit in my SO@24's room--a place where Shane would never look, and therefore never find, and therefore never stick up the hoo-haa of his lady. I didn't have a problem with them using my bed to bone in, but there is no fucking way they're using my... um... stuff.

Also, you're probably wondering why a 24 year old male has very expensive high-end vibrator(s) in his possession. My brother is the founder and CEO of the company, Jimmyjane. That, dear readers, is what I call a hook-up.

-leans back in chair, puts hands behind head, sighs deeply-

...You have no idea how useful that's been.

Happy Friday.

Hmmm. I guess it wasn't really all that exciting, but it made for some good blogging, eh?

People's Hottest Bachelor = My Twin?

People will always try and find a doppelganger for you. For some reason people are obsessed with trying to find ways to compare your looks with those of a celebrity.

In college, during the Winter Olympics, I was called "Apolo" incessantly. My friends, my mom, I even got a phone call from my grandma gushing about how much I looked like the famous, gold medal speed-skater from Seattle. Apolo Anton Ohno.

I never quite saw the resemblance, but I rolled with it.

This morning, when I reached the end of the internet, I looked up Apolo online to read up on him. My first search led me to this blurb.

Is this true? Are you telling me this guy got Hottest Bachelor for People Magazine?? And I've been told for years that I have an uncanny resemblance to this man. How have I not been able to capitalize on this??

Looks like I got my Halloween costume this year. I just purchased a $60 speed skating suit.

Bring it ladies.

Hidden Treasues Under My Bed

While I was putting my freshly washed bed sheet back on my mattress, my toe knocked something over.

Peering under my bed, I found something to my surprise: a stack of black, leather bound journals and two little, white boxes with ribbons wrapped around them. I didn't open the journals to read them, but I did open up the boxes. Inside, I found these.

My first thoughts were, "Whoa. This is high-class quality shit we're talking here."

Why are Leo's personal journals and boxes of expensive Jimmy Jane vibrators hidden under my bed amongst the dust bunnies without my knowledge?

...

Methinks it's time to have a chat with my roommate.

Death to The Creator of Sexy Halloween Costumes!

I hate them. I hate them so much.

Who the fuck invented the "sexy [fill in any occupation here]" anyway? And the costumes aren't even sexy, they are hysterical. Any time I see a girl wearing one of these cop-out costumes, I just shake my head in disbelief.

Who are these girls who eat this concept up?? They try and make every single costume sexy; that can't even BE sexy. Sexy pirate? Pirates aren't even supposed to be sexy. What else are the costume companies going to try? Sexy amputee? Sexy grocer? Sexy chimney sweep?

I will definitely nod my head at a girl that actually takes some time to think of a costume and actually creates it. One of my friends went as Uma Thurman from Pulp Fiction. She wore a push up bra, unbuttoned it just enough so that a syringe stuck out of her chest. That's inventive. It's original (not necessarily the Mia Wallace concept, but incorporating the syringe). It's sexy.

I'm really scared that this year is going to be full of girls all wearing the same sexified devil, cop, Rainbow Brite, and nurse outfits. Yaaaaaaawn.

...

I really want some girl to be a sexy baked potato.

Open Bar Will Get You Street Cred

When GOOD magazine emailed me an invite to their annual anniversary party, I knew I was in for an eventful evening. Every year they throw a party at some random venue in Los Angeles. Subscribers get in for free ($20 for a year and 100% of the money goes to a charity of your choice... not bad!), drinks cost nothing, and there are plenty of attractive Los Angelites to observe.

This year's event happened to be at the Natural History Museum. An absolutely great place to have a party of this magnitude. I arrived with our usual entourage early enough and immediately B-line it to the open bar. Skyy Vodka. For free. I didn't complain. I was going to milk this bad boy for all it was worth.

It's a unique experience; throwing back vodka sodas while standing next to the remains of a giant mastodon. The party was very much what I expected and as Leo leaned over and whispered, "There are so many pretty girls here, yet for some reason... you feel like they are completely out of your league." I nodded in agreement as I took another long sip from my drink. Plenty of girls wearing their best cocktail attire (little black dresses, oh snaaaaaaaaaps).

But as the night wore on, the free drinks started to add up in my 5'3" frame and pretty soon I was convinced that mastodon was staring me down. And with each drink, I started to get a little more reflective (uh oh). At some point, I got separated from the herd and I suddenly had an epiphany. I'm going to walk home. I didn't bid my friends farewell, I just left.

As I stumbled down the stairs of the Natural History Museum, the dark clouds that had been forming all night started to rumble. I began my trek home at 12:00 in the morning. I usually pull out my cellphone immediately, but I think I wanted to just enjoy the silence for a moment. I'm not really sure why I decided to do this; maybe the thought of "our" supposed one-year anniversary is coming up in a few days. One year since the break up, seven years if we were still dating.

I didn't want to dwell on that for the entire walk, besides my head was spinning. I refused to go emo. So I forced myself to pull out my cell phone and make some calls to occupy my thoughts. These drunk dials didn't last very long, either no one was picking up their phones or they couldn't hear me because my cell was malfunctioning. The light sprinkle was now a full blown monsoon. I was absolutely drenched. Gel from my hair was running off my forehead and now causing a bitter taste in my mouth. I wore nothing more than jeans and a t-shirt, which I had to ring out every 5 mins. Puddles formed on the street corners that were at LEAST ankle-deep that were impossible to walk around. It was a pretty pathetic scene.

During the last third of my journey, I thought it was best to try and flag down a cab. I only saw one, but he must have not seen my arms flailing. I'm not surprised he didn't stop, I must have looked insane to be outside in the middle of the night during an LA rainstorm in gang territory. Oh, did I not mention that? I was walking in the stomping grounds of the Blood, Black P Stones, the Rollin 60's Crips, and the 18th Street Gang. I figured I was "ok" though; even gang bangers know better than to be outside in this weather. Besides, I was wearing neutral gang colors. I continued the rest of the pilgrimage switching off between walking and jogging.

An hour later, my hands were shaking due to me freezing my ass off as I tried to align my door keys with the key hole. I peeled off my waterlogged t-shirt and jeans, kicked off my soggy Chuck's and hopped in the shower.

Not one of the smartest things I've done while drunk.


Sidenote: I google-mapped my walk. 3 miles.

Kelly Brook (1024x768 & 1280x800 WideScreen)

Surprise Care Package

I had a particularly exhausting day at work on Tuesday. Traffic was worse than usual and I slithered out of the car when I finally parked in front of the house. Dragging my knuckles like a caveman up the porch steps, I noticed a large manila envelope addressed to me sitting in front of the door. No return address. I didn't recognize the handwriting. I never get packages, so this threw me off a bit.

I tossed my keys, wallet and CD faceplate on the couch and ripped into the envelope. Dumping the contents onto the table, I knew exactly who it was from. Lynn's mother had sent me a care package for no particular reason.

• various candies; Airheads, Bottle Caps, Jellybellys, Sour Punch Straws
• a tiny wind up fishing game. Do you remember this??
• a postcard with the cover of The Beatles' album "Rubber Soul". A funny coincidence, since she and I used to joke that we'd dance to "In My Life" during Lynn and my wedding.
• random little knick knacks

The smell of the package made me nostalgic. It smelled exactly like Lynn's laundry detergent and the general smell of their house. I haven't smelt that in quite awhile. It was pretty strange, I'll have to admit.

It brought a smile to my face. I opened a Blow Pop and laughed at the situation... how often does an ex's mother send a care package to her daughter's ex-boyfriend?




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Now playing: The Beatles - Norwegian Wood

How PDA Ruined my Saturday Night

PDA. Public displays of affection. As long as I can remember, PDA has never sat well with me. I remember in middle school, my friend Will and I would spot couples that were all over each other during passing time and blast ear-piercing whistles to make them equally uncomfortable. It wasn't very mature, I'll admit that. But this Saturday made me wish I had that whistle strapped around my neck.

I went out to the same wine bar in Santa Monica as I did last weekend. I was already drunk from watching the football games earlier and I didn't particularly want to go out, but peer pressure can be a bitch.

The bar was absolutely ridiculous. After splitting a bottle of wine, our party sat on the couches and my observation of my surroundings began:

It was as if it was Spring Break in Cabo. It's a beer and wine bar, yet there is a good crowd on the "dance floor" bumpin' & grindin' to a horrible techno/rap remix of Outfield's "Your Love". One couple is blatantly making out. We're talking hands down each other's jean pockets while simultaneously shoving tongues down each other's throats making out.

A girl we went to the bar with instantly had three guys trying to dance with her. Within minutes of going on the dance floor, she is making out with one of the trio. Does this get the other two to stop dancing with her? Absolutely not. The Alpha male has his arms wrapped around her waist whispering to her and the other two are still dancing on either side of her! I couldn't believe it. I think I actually looked up at the ceiling and said out loud, "Why am I here?"

Which brings me to... why? Seriously. Why? Why not spare us all your dry-humping escapades and stay at home with your boyfriend/girlfriend? And if you just met her/him that night, GO HOME. Isn't that the whole point anyway? I'm sure at least one of you had to pay cover to get in here and at least $8 for a shitty, watered-down beverage. You'd be saving gas money, cover, overpriced drinks and you could probably go straight to jamming down in the comfort of your own home ("den" might actually be the more appropriate word). No one I have ever come across in my 24 years on this Earth has ever said, "You know what happened last night? It was amazing! I got to watch this couple totally go at it on the dance floor! You have to check it out next time."

So please, PDA couples. Stay home. Do your business there. The rest of the bar-visitng population will be forever grateful.

Yep. That's It.

Brilliant.

I Love My Friends Pt. 5

So@24: You're dead for skipping out on lunch again
Veronica: I know. I owe you. Big time. I'll try to find a short busty blonde with a penchant for guzzling cheap beer for you.


----------------
Now jamming to: John Denver - Take Me Home Country Roads

Cheryl Tweedy - Wallpapers (1280x800) & (1024x768)

What I'm Looking For

The following is a gchat conversation between Leo and myself yesterday afternoon. We decided to recap on the girls we met at the tailgate party and this past weekend:

Leo: They're fucking whack.
So@24: I like them!
Leo: Why!? What in God's name is redeeming about them? Name ONE thing.
So@24: They're funny. I thought they were hilarious
Leo: No, they're not funny. You thought they were hilarious? David Spade is hilarious. They are a train wreck.
So@24: They keep things interesting. New scene. New crowd. Girls can booze like a champ.
Leo: Those girls a) don't have anything to offer when they're sober and b) take away from the table in droves when they're drunk and c) they're always drunk! They're raging OC rich girl alcoholics. I am never hanging out with them again.
-scribbles into stone-
So@24: I thought you might say that. Whatever, drunk girls schmrunk girls
Leo: They come as a package and Ann's only quality is the ability to substitute a fog horn if one were to fail. They suck.
So@24: I can't explain why I like them, but I do.
Leo: Please do. Because I cannot understand for the life of me what you see in those girls
So@24: It's fun to hang out with a bunch of girls who can drink a Natty Light and ask for a Natty Ice instead. Maybe I just want to hang out with people who get blacked out and will sing Weezer with me.

It's true. Maybe I'm not ready to be "fully mature yet". I'm still in college mode. Maybe it's because I missed out on all the dating and stuff when I was in school.

Even though those girls were complete whirlwinds of destruction when they hit the bottle a little too hard, I still liked having them around. It was refreshing to hang out with girls who really don't give a shit. Who aren't worried about upholding some "image" when they go out. Who aren't shy and can mingle at a party. They aren't Proust scholars, but fuck! They are new, exciting! They mix it up! And as stereotypical as my roommate has labeled them, they aren't bitches; but extremely receptive and friendly. I can't explain it well. This whole thing reminds me of an entry I read recently from a blog I check daily. She gets it!

Which made me think of qualities of girls that instantly capture my heart:

1. She can drink. And not just wine or Kettle One. I'm sorry, but that's what's appealing to me right now. I don't want some girl whose in super-ultra adult mode. 9-5. In bed by 10 on weekends.
2. Likes to sleep in and takes frequent naps. Sleeping in is like 12:00 or 1, not 10:30.
3. Who appreciates the old Nickelodeon shows. Salute Your Shorts, The Adventures of Pete & Pete, Are You Afraid of the Dark, etc. Who can recite the theme songs. (When Lisa started singing the Pete & Pete theme, I almost peed myself)
4. She can shotgun a beer.
5. Doesn't get shy and will belt out "Say It Ain't So" or "Tiny Dancer" at any given moment

I don't think it's too much to ask.




----------------
Now playing: Elton John - Tiny Dancer

Well That Put a Bounce in my Step!

Couple therapy.

An interesting concept. A couple having trouble in their relationship attend a session together with a counselor to "fix" whatever the problem is.

I'm not questioning the merit of this process. Marriage counseling has probably helped thousands of marriages stay afloat. Couples who actually need to stick together for the long haul.

I just found out that my ex-girlfriend and her current boyfriend have been attending couple counseling sessions for quite sometime. They haven't even been dating for an entire calendar year! And they are both under 25. Am I the only one who thinks that this is bat shit crazy??

I'm going to say it one more time because it merits repeating:

Couple counseling. Not-even-a-year-old-relationship. At the age of 23.

Probably a huge warning sign that you might be one of these.


-cracks knuckles-
-puts arms behind head-
-sits back in computer chair-
-props feet on desk-


That makes me feel a little better.

The Problem with my Wingman

I love Leo. I really do. We go way back to the hallways of our elementary school. We spent summers doing cannonballs off of his pool house into his pool. I took him out for his first strip club when he turned 18. 9/10 times if I'm having a shitty day, he'll have a 12 pack of Milwaukee's Best sitting on the kitchen table when I come home. If I'm strapped for cash at a bar, he'll tap me on the shoulder, throw a beer in my hand and continue with whatever conversation he was having.

But he's a horrible wingman.

He knows it (he might not admit it, but deep down he knows). I've given him shit for it. It's not his fault really. He just happens to be a good looking guy that a lot of girls happen to be big fans of. He's got that confident/cocky aura that draws them like these guys:



The only example I can think of at the moment is this past weekend (yeeeikes). I initially had an interest in Ann and I thought I at LEAST had a shot. But as soon as Leo enters the scene, it's over. She's all over him. But can you blame him? You can't make a girl think you're attractive.

I don't think that he's TRYING to flirt with these girls, I think that's just how he naturally is. How he always interacts with them.

I've been told, "You need to get a new Wingman." But what can you do? He's my friend, I couldn't ask for a better weekend warrior to kick it with. Stop hanging out with him because girls find him more attractive? Yeah, that's not going to happen. And if I really think about it, maybe these girls wouldn't even be hanging out if he wasn't in the picture.

* * *

I just looked up Wikipedia's entry on "wingman". I don't even want to post the entry; it's actually really douchey. I don't want him to have to hook up with an ugly girl so I "win" by default. However, there is one part I kind of like...

"The wingman is expected to back up the pilot, making comments that will make the pilot seem more attractive."

I highly doubt Leo goes as far to do anything like that.





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Now playing: MXPX - Brokenhearted

Blacked Out Blunders with the Bruins: Part 2

"So how was last night?" I asked Leo while popping two multivitamins into my mouth.
"Why does your eye look like it exploded? You look horrible."
"Oh, I must have slept in my contacts."
"Those girls aren't that cool, man. I'm never hanging out with them again. Let me take that back; Lisa was kind of cool, but Ann sucked."

Leo went on to tell me that after I had left, he spent the evening having to remove his hand from Ann's crotch. While in bed she kept placing his hand and he would retract it. This happened multiple times before he decided it was probably best he slept on the ground. Something tells me he wasn't into her. Definitely the actions of a girl who just has just gotten out of a relationship. I guess you have to respect that she doesn't play games.

I chuckled at his highlight recap and threw my vomit-soaked clothes into the washer. We had another party to attend out in Malibu. Leo's boss was throwing a birthday bbq at his private beach house with the promise of food and booze. Just thinking about alcohol was making me gag, but the free food was enticing.

The bbq was fun, but not really ideal for a couple of single guys looking to meet new girls. The party consisted of about 25 gay guys and then... us. I'm not kidding you that at one point a game of volleyball took place and I swear "Playing with the Boys" came on the sound system. Straight out of Top Gun. That literally happened. Jack eventually showed up and had a retelling of my vom-fest adventure, while expressed his amazement that I was able to not get a single drop in the car. What can I say, I'm a considerate puker?

Around 8, I get a call from Lisa. She tells me that she is on her way with Ann to join us at the bbq and this was a bit of a shock to me (as well as Jack and Leo). Leo must have invited them last night. I was pretty excited to have them there, but Jack and Leo didn't share my sentiment.

But after a few drinks, they warmed up to them a bit. Wanting a change of scenery, we grabbed our crew and went to a bar in Santa Monica. Fast forward to closing time...

Ann is laying on a couch, boob popping out of her dress. Jack is fighting off the onslaught that is a drunken Lisa. Leo is giving me death stares from across the bar. The journey to the car is a rough one. Lisa is latched onto Leo, who is continuing to shoot daggers at me from over his shoulder. Ann is taking her time, stumbling in her heels, begging me to get her food. We can't take them back to their car in Malibu, they have to stay out our place for the night.

I could write an entire entry for the drive home. Ann is out like a light and homegirl can saw a log (snore) like no other. Lisa is trying to figure out where we are, where we can get fast food, and where her heels are. Quotes from the car:

"Let's go to Del Taco! I have a hundred dollars! I'll pay for you guys. Can you guys pay for my Del Taco? I only have a hundred dollars."
- Lisa

"Hey, let's stop by a hardware store and pick up a sack of lye, a wheel barrow, and a hacksaw!"
- Leo

Just to see how fucked up she really was, I called her from my cellphone in the front seat. We continue to have a 4 minute conversation, with her having no idea I'm right in front of her. I can't make this up.

We park. I race into the house and make up the pullout bed. Leo is struggling to get Ann out of the car and finally gets her into the house. Ann immediately steps into Leo's room to "pass out"... a clever move, but Leo wasn't having it. He decides to sleep on the couch and give up the fight. The log sawing beings once more. One down, one to go.

Meanwhile, Lisa has mentioned "food" about a 150 times, so I make her a bowl of ramen. While I'm cooking it, she devours some left over spaghetti in the fridge. I give her a glass of water and slide the bowl of steaming soup over to her. Her eyes half open, head nodding off a la' a college lecture in the spring quarter heat, she picks the noodles out with her hands, holds them inches above her mouth and drops them in; spilling them on herself and on the floor. I am sitting back in the chair right across from her, my weary head resting on my knuckles... chuckling to myself while she describes her crush on Jack to me. "Am I pretty? Do you think I'm pretty? He doesn't think I'm pretty. I'm pretty right? Don't you think so?"
"Yes, Lisa. You are very pretty" (in the most monotone voice imaginable)

Suddenly her phone rings.

Lisa: Jack?? Hey, you should come over. Do you know how to get here? Hold on.
-Lisa passes her cell to me-
My inner monologue: Jack is going to come over? No way. Wait. He knows how to get here...
-I grab her phone-
So@24: Hey Jack, what's going on?
"Jack": Hey, how do I get there?
So@24: Wait a second... do I know you?
"Jack": I don't think so, I just met that girl tonight at the bar. So, what's your address?
So@24: Look dude, there's been some mistake. I don't even know you and you're not coming over. Goodnight.

Lisa has already forgotten I was on the phone. She finishes her meal and goes out to the living room to join Leo. I go into my room and pull out a pair of soccer shorts and a t-shirt for Lisa to wear (I've dealt with my fair share of blacked out girls in my time). Through a miracle of some greater being, she is able to slide on the soccer shorts under her dress, but asks Leo to help her get her dress off. She had a sash-like thing around her dress and at some point, must have triple knotted it. Lisa raises her arms like a child getting dressed for the first snow day and Leo undoes the knot. And she slips off her dress and Leo puts on the shirt for her. In front of us. Leo and I exchange looks of disbelief and exhaustion.

She wants another bowl of ramen. She slurps it down and I stay up with her until she finishes.

Everyone goes to bed... finally. I wake up at 9:30 to our guests giggling in Leo's room.

I'm absolutely amazed at how fresh they are. No sign of a hangover and no one booted. I guess every cloud has a silver lining, eh?

Leo declines to join me in the ride BACK to Malibu to get their car (I guess I deserved that). The ride isn't that bad; they sang along to John Denver's "Take Me Home, Country Roads" and Chicago's "You're My Inspiration". I smiled to myself... I have to admit it's refreshing to be with girls who don't mind belting out the classics while in wrinkled wrinkled party dresses and messy hair.

So@24: What are you guys going to do for the rest of the day?
Lisa: So, I think Ann and I are going to go to a bar back home, grab a few beers and watch the football game!
-jaw drops open-

Some things you just have to laugh off.

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Now playing: Blues Traveler - The Hook