Borrowing words as best as a lit person can do

I'm running out of inspiration. A certain professor has taken a fairly confident, well spoken person and turned her into a pile of self-depricating mush. That's as best as I can describe it. And maybe it's not just her. Maybe some of the blame should be placed on the weather. Of on the professor who didn't teach me what I needed to know a year and a half ago when I took the same damn class I'm taking now. Maybe I should be mad at my parents for passing on such horrible genes. Or at myself for being a procrastinator. And a perfectionist. It's like mixing bleach and amonia. I never had a chance. But, instead of writing my own stuff, let me share the thoughts of others who so accurately describe me right now.

From Xtina (though I don't want to let myself believe that I can feel as she does, or she as I.):
"I hate the fact that this is what I've become. "
"I wish I was content with merely being alive and physically incapable of analyzing things and the whole two-kids-happy-dog-white-picket-fence was my biggest dream. I wish I was on Zoloft and Valium and morphine."

From Carrie Finn (found her blog accidentally one day):
"The semester has just started and already I am astounded at the stupidity of college students. It's not spring yet so I'm not really talking about their white pants with colored panties. And, perhaps, they aren't really that stupid....they're just lazy. How many students have I met with this week who haven't registered for class yet....just because they haven't. They have no good reason not to. They just didn't do it. And then they want me to register for them. "No," I tell them, "you'll need to find a computer and register for classes yourself." No wonder their parents are so concerned about them."

Well, I guess I don't understand about the registering thing, I just found that part amusing.

Did you know last week (Jan. 23) is supposedly the most depressing day of the year? Some scientist-like folks have some equation where they look at weather, income, outgoing money, days until vacation, and other such things to determine this. I think they're right. Though, it's hard to declare only a single day as the most depressing. What about an entire week? Maybe a month? Winter needs to be over. Or I need to invest in one of those natural sunlight lamps.

Note to Smith: thanks. I owe ya. A lot.

Ahhh...grad school

It's officially sucked the life out of me. Maybe it's the idea of having to read 200!! late 1800s short stories by next Monday, or the thought that I put Les Miserables on my morning reading list, thinking Oh, plenty of time to read over break. Needless to say my break was spent watching Family Feud and obsessing over who will blog next and the Victoria's Secret semi-annual sale. Maybe it's knowing that at the moment I couldn't tell you what the three topics of my morning comps are supposed to be. Is that bad? Maybe it was the weekly berating by a certain power-trippy professor. Actually, yeah, I'm pretty sure that's what it is. Why does she feel compelled to hunt me down and demand that everything every written by Mary Wilkins Freeman must be read by next week? Just what will happen if I don't miraculously pull this off? She's told others they'd lose their assistantships. Somehow I don't see that happening. And if it did, that'd really just be more time for me to spend procrastinating and blogging. Yeah, so maybe I won't graduate in May. Really, I'm not that worried. It's not like I have anything waiting for me to finish. So I finish next year. Or the year after that. Or I have a couple kids, lie in bed at night wondering If only I had finished that thesis...

Even typing at this point is pointless. More words. Stupid, stupid words. And I'm pondering what has been permanently embossed a near inch above my asscrack. In Latin nonetheless. "In books there is freedom"?! It's my curse. Certainly there's a lot of things in books: my time, energy, life, guilt, sorrow, fear. But I'm a long ways from freedom right now.

In other news, my plant, which I refused to believe was dead and so watered faithfully for the past couple months, has revived itself. Life is worth living now.

What I won't do for a job

I dragged the boy to church this morning. It was a good exercise in how to bribe a child into attending church. I promised him Perkins afterwards, but only if he behaved himself. And though I wasn't surprised by his slightly less than angelic redition of "How Great Thou Art", or the way he laughed when the preacher said "penetration" repeatedly during his sermon, he did still get the promised breakfast. It was strange to be back in church. Really, in the last few years my only church going moments were for 1) funerals 2) weddings 3) Christmas because my dad was singing 4) at the nursing home while visiting my grandma. I've never attended the church here in town. But I knew my old pastor was now here, so I gave it a whirl. Unfortunately, rather than have the 50ish hippie leading the service, we had what the boy described as "what I imagine Chris Farley would be like if he played the role of a pastor." Can't say I disagree. I was thinking more like a Jesse Jackson or Billy Graham...on crack. But even though the surroundings were new, and the pastor was a little...umm...excited, it seemed like the same old Lutheran church I went to as a child. Because my mom made me. Because she said if we didn't go to church we couldn't do anything fun the rest of the day. She threatened us by saying we would have to read the Bible instead. Gee, those happy church memories.

Another reason I am bothered by church--I have the church curse. It doesn't matter if only two pews in the entire chapel are occupied, the parents with the REALLY LOUD, ANNOYING, AND OFTEN CRYING children will sit directly behind me. They will scribble ferociously when I am trying to pray, they will kick the seat I am sitting in, they will squeal in my ears, and they will spill Cheerios all over the floor. People, there's a nursery. Leave your children there. Seriously, this place was huge and there were a million empty seats. I will be a terrible parent. I told the boy my children will read rather than roughhouse. He laughed.

Since I've mentioned Chris Farley, one note I have to make about my student essays. One student, while writing about how drugs and alcohol can be dangerous and how celebrities die from their addictions, wrote "like Jimi Hendrix, James Belushi, and Chris Farley." A bit random? Oh, my students will be wonderful this semester. I already told one student he picked my class over physics. I've seen the way he writes. It was a good choice. Hmm. That reminds me. I was going to make real lesson plans.

I got up at 9:30 today (after falling asleep again after the boy called at 8:45!! Just cuz he has to go to work at 7 does not mean that I'm going to be up at a respectable time on my day off) and felt pretty productive for a period of three hours. Checked email, questioned why students are still emailing me when I gave them time to do so in class, did some laundry, did the dishes (even thought it's the boy's job. I was feeling generous), vacuumed, did some general picking up of dog toys and old newspapers. I had lunch and even did some reading for class. And then I fell asleep again. For four hours. And I woke up still tired. Ach. I need some sunny weather and a Mountain Dew.

I thought taking vitamins would help. And I successfully went for a couple weeks remembering to take them after dinner with a full glass of milk. But then I'd eat out, or I'd forget. Then I'd feel sick for two days. This happened twice, so I don't think it's a coincidence. I decided I'd drop the vitamins and just hit the treadmill more frequently. But that really cuts into my tv watching and lounging time. So I'm outta luck. But I do have fabulous cookies to snack on (thanks Smith for the fantastic recipe.) I made pink frosting. Very cheery.

I met my new bunch today. Apparently everyone has heard how wonderful I am because I had three extra students bombard me as soon as I can in, pleading that I let them into my class. I ended up with enough space for one of them--the guy with beautiful eyes who called me "Ms. Sween." He also reminds me of a student I had my first semester, which also makes me smile. And while they look like a good bunch of kids, I miss my old class. I know I complained incessantly about how lazy they were and how quick they were to challenge everything I said, but at the same time, they offered to bring me treasures from Nepal and offered amusing, though lame, excuses for their absences. I miss Kristi, the quiet blonde in the corner who always laughed at me, even when I didn't say anything funny. I'll have to make extra trips to Menards to see her.

I took roll and tried deperately to remember faces and names so I could spend the hour memorizing. But they all look alike. I've realized this: If you want your teacher to remember you, you can't wear anything from Aeropostale, Abercrombie, or Old Navy. If you're a boy and you have a baseball hat on, I won't remember you. If you're a girl, you're blonde, and not grotesquely tall or wide, I will not remember you. However, if you walk into the class on the first day wearing a purple spandex jumpsuit, you can bet your ass I'll remember you next Monday. Or if you came in ten minutes late the first day with "Nosy Little Fucker" on the front of your shirt, I will remember you. If you look particularly goth, gay, or punk, I will have no troubles picking you out. But if you look like you've never left Minnesota, are Lutheran, or your last name is Olson, it will be weeks...unless you say something really stupid in class. I'll remember that.

Welcome new semester. Let's celebrate by buying Liz a real coat on Friday. Who's with me?

P.S. While researching the difference between ELCA (me, sorta) and ELS (Bethany job I'm applying for), I realized some disturbing facts. ELS does not have female pastors because "women are not meant to be leaders of men." Also, ELS=homosexuality, abortion, premarital relations bad. ELCA=homosexuality indifferent (refuses to take a side), abortion acceptable, premarital relations "okay in a loving relationship." Will I come close to getting this job? 8 ball says "outlook not so good."

Hail, hail, the gang's all here

So life is good again. I have friends. GIRLfriends. Friends that said excitedly how they'd love to come to the bridal show and have a slumber party with lingerie shows and liquor. Oh, what will I do when they leave one by one to pursue fantastic teaching jobs at Iowa State (or whichever one has the kickin' program) and Florida Tech and Texas A & M. (Notice how I really don't know where the good creative writing programs are.) I remember this. This happened when I was an undergrad. Yay, we're graduating, no more MSU, no more Mankato, no more playing with me. Sigh. I should just build a cabin and seclude myself in the woods now.

But now is not time to think of the unpleasant things to come. Instead, I shall think about all the things that are making me happy now:

1. I found out last night that I will soon be an aunt. And the most surprising thing is that it's not my unmarried brother's girlfriend like I always imagined it would be. Nope. It's the one that got married last July. Hopefully for his wife's sake the kid doesn't come out with Sween ears. Surely it would just get stuck halfway out. I mean, wow, my brother has HUGE ears. And he was almost ten pounds. Poor, poor sister-in-law.
2. I just sold a book on half.com for $47. A book that I found for FREE at MSU!! I rock. And I think I found a new part-time job.
3. As mentioned before, having my friends back. I know that also means having to go back to work and school, but I guess it's the trade off for all the great company I get.
4. Waiting for Xtina's first day of work. I will so be there to laugh as you force a smile, even at the table with young children flinging garlic mashed potatoes on the floor. They're prolly leave you a crappy tip too. But so will I for that matter.

Thanks Olson for the quiz site. I didn't really want to read ahead, plan awesome lessons, or do anything productive tonight. I just took the "What Kind of Panties Are You?" I was a little surprised to find out that:
You Are Old Fashioned Undies!You're conservative and a bit unsure of your sexy-ness.Unleash that tigress a little more - she's dying to get out.Men think you're a nice girl, a little too nice to date.Go wild with a sexy g-string... and totally up your confidence!
Now, who believes this one? As I write this, I am distracted by 1. My dog "batting" at me (why did the boy teach him this?! and 2. a commercial for The Underground. It's about as good as any local commercial can be. And much, much better than the Jetter Clean commercials. Anyway, commercial says the bar is to look like the old speakeasys of the Roarin' 20s. Hmm. Not on a Saturday night. Back to the underwear thing. For the record, I am not old fashioned undies. I only have that one pair that I only wear during that one time. Yeah, it nearly covers my belly button, but again, I'm not going to mussy up a cute pair. And I have lots of thongs. Sometimes I even wear them when I'm wearing baggy pants (thus, not just to alleviate panylines). And how many people have I converted to thong wearers? Uh, yeah. This quiz sucks.

How I've Been Spending the Last Week of Break...

1. Running and reminding myself that my goal over break was to run every day and lose 10 pounds and look fabulous when I came back. That was my goal over summer break too. Can't say I'm not optimistic.
2. Watching America's Sweethearts--the boy was gone. I wanted something girly.
3. Getting a decent C.V.--trying to figure out how to make piddly conference presentations sound really academic and important
4. Filling out (real!!) job applications and tracking down people to write letters of recommendation
5. Watching Family Feud and feeling very, very intelligent (e.g "something hairy?" "skunk?" WTF??)
6. Weeping in the corner because all my friends left me and Dodge wouldn't call me back
7. Attempting to make wedding plans. I have a date...I think.
8. Scoring education majors' papers to get into the program and to get internships. I'll try and get some of the better excerpts for you later. If you think Comp 101 kids write some ridiculous stuff...
9. Cleaning, catching up on laundry, filing. My office got a little, umm, disturbing during the last semester. I'm making up for that now.
10. Sleeping. God, it's been good. I've had some crazy dreams in the last weeks: ketchup bets, faking death, being held against my will, dead family members having potlucks in my basement (that was the best...I woke up crying...I'll explain later.)
11. Writing. Specifically a story based on previous potluck dream. And some Dave Barry inspired essays.
12. Obsessively checking up on blogs. I know if you haven't blogged in the last half hour. Again, see #6.
13. Continually promising myself that tomorrow will be the day I perfect my lesson plans. Well, I got my syllabus done. Looks like "unorganized" will show up a lot on next semester's student evals too.

Why I Watch Football...

because this guy http://www.usatoday.com/sports/2004-12-14-hair-cover_x.htm is beooootiful. I really don't care that he isn't actually any good. I'm sure when it comes down to it he knows what to do with his (foot)balls. Hmm. This reminds me of a greeting card I bought just because I almost wet myself reading it. I had no intentions of giving it to anyone.

Top Ten Things That Sound Dirty in Football but Aren't:
1. It was tight but Elway managed to pull it out!
2. He put it right through the uprights!
3. Pretty good for a rookie.
4. He was able to penetrate right up the middle
5. Marino was blitzed and ended up under 6 guys.
6. The ref blew it dead.
7. He went down in his end zone!
8. Emmitt finally breaks through the hole to get a few extra inches!
9. That's the longest one Deion's gotten his hands on this year!
10. It's up...and it's good!
11. Janet Jackson is the halftime entertainment (ok, I made that up...and it is dirty)

Now, you are all smart people. I want to hear your ideas. If we come up with enough, we can make our own greeting card. And let's face it folks, the way it's looking we're all going to need to have backup plans. While I'm considering stripper and topless maid, greeting card writer sounds good too.

No Longer the F'ing Ranch Virgin

Xtina called me (finally?! once I gave up and decided to start some real work) and declared we were going to the Ranch. As much fun as I was having reading the autobiographies of people who may someday teach my children and contemplating homeschooling, the ranch sounded like slightly more fun. On the ride over I was further informed that we would be having meatloaf. I nearly peed myself. We got there and I quickly learned there would be plenty of pre- and post- dinner entertainment by dogs and boys.

Dinner was EXCELLENT. I noticed Xtina took an exceptional amount of corn, but to be fair she didn't have any meatloaf (and I took seconds and thirds of everything. I hadn't eaten much in the last couple days. That would have required cooking). Near the end of dinner Xtina, in her oh-so-charming way, declared that she hated me. Thing 2 began to cry. With his head down I proceeded to mock Xtina. Dodge and her man jumped in quickly to let the Thing know that she was only joking, and that it wasn't a funny joke. I decided mock crying was a bad idea.

I showed Thing 1 how to do the Walls of Jericho and a sharpshooter (all wonderful things I learned as a result of the boy's need to watch Pro-wrestling). Thing 1 would not be my subject but Thing 2 quickly agreed. This was all it took. Soon Thing 2 was asking me to "play art" with him. That moved to kisses on the cheeks and marriage proposals. But I had to break it to him--I was already getting married. Then the six year old boy who kept calling me "Kelly" (and later "Biscuit"--another story) sat in his mother's lap and cried. Afterwards he went into his playroom and blared Miles Davis, and was singing. I broke his heart. I'm a terrible person. Smith--I shall never tease you again.

Girl talk, CSI: Miami, talk of bacon and sexual positions, vodka, Xtina's dog peeing on the floor. All in all a successful trip to the ranch.

First of all, Speardane, you were not sabotaged. Chad was. Secondly, if you would smell your shots before you took them, you would have know. But maybe you guys don't need that. Maybe your friends haven't ingrained that into you because they don't buy you shots like Prarie Fires, Sweaty Mexicans, and Buffalo Sweat. My experience has taught me that a shot in front of me must pass the sniff test. Clearly, a single sniff would have confirmed that the shot in front of you was not a frou frou Vanilla Ice, but a devasting Iowan Everclear. P.S. You were bent over my sink?! How did I miss that?! And be glad I did because I would have killed you if I found chunks of chicken and creamy rice in my sink. That's no dirty frat house you were at. I live in a subdivision!! People don't vomit in the sinks here. They wave at you when you go get the mail. They borrow an egg and return the favor with some brownies. The houses are a plethora of beige and taupe and tan. Ach. Who am I kidding? I would have deserved a clogged sink. But may I add for the last time, I deserved Chad blowing chunks into my sink. I did nothing to you, Matt.

Xtina--I thought you were going to call me when you got home. Bitch. Also, why go to the mall this weekend when we could go any day next week. Ahh...break. Also, I don't drive the truck in the cities. Say what you want about me, but I've had bad experiences with large vehicles I don't often drive in the cities. I mean, I can zip through the worst traffic in a car I know, but an unfamiliar vehicle doesn't work. Yes, keep laughing. But know that I did live in the cities (right off what is arguable the worst/busiest road up there) and I managed just fine. I wandered over to restaurants with foreign foods and I shopped at Byerly's (ok, I did that once accidentally before realizing how crazy their prices are. I quickly returned to Cub). Where was I going with this? Ahh yes, the boy's friend is borrowing the truck to dump what used to be the walls of his house. He left it muddy, gross, and without gas in it last time. I expect no less this time. Anyway, the truck's getting used.

Smith--thanks for the ego boosting declaration on Chadley's web site. But I still declare my gut looks disturbingly large in the second picture. I much prefer the first one that is mostly hair and boobs. When are you coming back? I'm lonely. And the Dodge doesn't answer her phone. Or return her messages. I'm starting to think it's me.

It's official. I need a digital camera...

because then I would have my own fun pictures from New Year's Eve. I've heard there are camera-phone pics of my boy vomiting in the garbage can in the bedroom. These things should be on my blog. Or I could have pictures of myself and Panko trying out beds yesterday at Slumberland, baby in tote. I think the salesguy was aroused. If not, he should have been. Two blondes rolling over and giggling together in bed. It was a good time. I told Panko she simply had to try the Swedish bed that felt like slipping into a marshmallow. Amazing. Unfortunately, it's not one of those beds you can jump into. I did that and my butt hurt for hours afterwards. I found it amusing that the Panko left her baby in the firm mattress section while we wandered over into the ultraplush section. I thought moms only did that once they got to their third baby and felt confident in their parenting skills. As we layed on the Posturpedic I declared that the mattress was so soft you wouldn't need to put sheets on it. The salesguy found this amusing. Apparently Panko, who was there the day before with Mr. Panko, declared the exact same thing.

When we got to the car Panko realized she left the doors unlocked...with the keys sitting on the driver's seat. I love Panko. We headed to the mall. While walking past Victoria's Secret I had to pull her away and remind her that we could come back. At the moment we were on a mission: duvet cover. It was then that I asked her just what the *&%$ a duvet cover was. We found none at Herbergers. What we did find was a cute two pack of jammie sacks for the Panklet. We also realized the difficulty of wheeling a stroller through the narrow aisles. Panko decided just to keep the stroller in the main aisles and wander. Again, a sign of advanced parenting. (Right Dodge?)

We managed to make our way back to V.S's and dug our way through barrels of bras. I found a cute pink one with enough uplift to create this. (Note fake link. If I knew how to link I would bring you to the photo of me riding Christensen. Panko found a lacy purple one and a little something special. I caved and signed up for a store credit card. I can expect my free panty coupons in the mail.

Ach. I don't feel like relating the rest. But I had a good time. Nice to get out of the house and away from my computer for a little while.

I am officially off my parents' insurance. They gave me about two weeks' notice which was nice of them. But now I am done. And I think I have mono. If only I hadn't been kissing Ben so much...wait a minute...that wasn't me. Anyway, now I either have to pay $260 for four months of insurance while I am in school or wait until I have a fine job that wishes to pay for my insurance. Or until I get married and the boy is forced to pay my insurance through his job. Surprisingly, he is not fond of this last choice. While I've never been much of a gambler, I may just ride through the next couple months without insurance. But this means no more of the following:
Drunken piggyback rides (I've seen where those end up)
Drunken trampolining
Basically, drunken anything fun
Hockey
Football
Naked mud wrestling
crocheting (with those needles? I don't think so)
Horseback riding (sorry Panko--guys, I'm talking about her horse, not her, although...)
Riding in a car with Xtina (those crazy NY drivers...do they even make full stops at 4 ways?)
Anything dangerously fun

Certainly I will break these rules. No naked mud wrestling? How would I live? But I will have to try and stay healthy and not broken. I've stocked up on any pills I may need in the future, and I've already spoken to the boy's sister (the nurse) to let her know I may need some favors. She said she's only got free samples of cholestoral meds and allergy stuff, so this prolly won't help me.

I am lonely. All are gone. Or if not, they are not calling me. There is the semi-annual sale at Victoria's right now and I have no one to go with. Xtima should be back tmr. Hopefully early. Think of all the glorious panties at half price or less right now. They are calling me. My precious. And I need a new bra. My parents' dog found mine and chunked up all the padding (I mean, it's all natural baby. I have no need for massive amounts of padding). And that was my favorite bra. Cleavage city. Anyway, aside from getting a new bra, here are my goals for the new year:
1) Finish thesis
2) Defend thesis in a fantastic way. Impress all staff so they talk about me for years to come
3) Really, I'd just be happy with enough thesis to graduate
4) Find fantastic job that pays really well
5) Apply for and get adjunct position--because whatever wonderful job I get prolly won't be teaching cuz I don't have my Ph.D.
6) Lose 10-15 pounds (preferably in my middle and ass) for...
7) My wedding. If we were to look at my original date(s) for getting wed, I should have been married twice by now. Oh, and Jan. 8th was another big day, so if it's really nice on Sat. someone is going to die. "You can't get married in Jan. We have so many people from out of town and the weather is bad in winter..." Arg.
8) Have a baby (wait, that's a goal for 2015)
9) Get on a schedule--take vitamins, exercise, wash face regularly, floss
10) Write more--preferably something good, something I can publish, something I can (and will!!) read at writer's bloc
11) Maintain my blog. I've never been good at journaling but this is turning out to be ok
12) Be happy. Spend more time with friends that will be leaving me in a year and less time worrying about school. Less time worrying in general. I'm not old enough to be this old.
13) Drink more. I know that sounds like a bad goal, but really, this refers to the last goal. Drinking just means I'm doing something other than worrying about school and such. It means I'm having a good time with good people (hopefully. of course, this could just mean that I stay home alone in the dark drinking and crying...but let's assume that this will mean drinking with other people)

I think that's enough for now. I'm already halfway through my list of goals for over winter break. Of course I've saved the harder ones (Work on thesis, read ahead for World Novel class, make up more in-depth syllabus) for the last two weeks. But I can happily say I can cross off "get dog haircut" and "get oil changed". I should go work on more goals. In fact, I really just turned my computer on to write up my new syllabus. Damn these blogs. P.s. Dodge--I spent waaaaay too long looking at your virtual bartender last night. Nothing was accomplished. Thanks.

A Great Start to a New Year

My night in review:
With the exception of the "sober" drivers, I was the least drunk at my party last night. This proved helpful at the end of the night while I picked up after two vomiting boys and those other boys. I maintained a healthy buzz the entire evening, and that's really all I needed. It was also nice to wake up this morning and not feel my head spinning or vomit so violently I broke blood vessels in my eyelids (note New Year's party '03 and mid semester this year thanks to the Donna class).

The night started innocently enough. Preston came and left. The Drevs came, though apparently he had already been partying. This boy, who lives umm...about 3 blocks away and only requires getting on a single road to get to my house, calls me because he is lost. I realize he is on the wrong side of the road. Then, as I wait for him outside of my house (still on the phone with him) I wave him down as he drives past my house. I let him know that he needs to reverse. He finally makes it and we share beer and Southpark. Well, actually at that time I was enjoying my New Year's margarita. mmmm.

Preston returns. We decide it's a fine night for Circle of Death. So I switch to the more chugger friendly beer. I realized quickly how being the only girl is not good. Somehow every sentence had me doing something inappropriate.

Oh, the Speardane and Chadley showed up. Chad introduces us to friend Dave. At this point, Chad is the sober driver. This changes.

Ben invites boy friend over. Also a sober driver. Eventually new friends takes a very drunk Ben to the bar because "there are more girls there." I guess I just can't satisfy seven men. I'm ok with that.

Cards continue. Calls were made to the East coast folks at their New Years. We later realize we missed the ball drop. Matt, who had TiVoed the whole show, rewinds to find that there was in fact no ball that dropped. Perhaps we were just too drunk and didn't notice, but we were all convinced that it didn't happen. I decided we would do our own countdown (I just wanted to run around kissing everyone). I found out that Chad cannot do pushups with me on his back, nor can he hold Everclear shots. That was a mistake. Soon he was in the bathroom vomiting. I believe pictures were taken. Then I realized the boy was in our bedroom, also vomiting. Thankfully Preston had gotten the garbage can over to the bed. Then Preston proceeded to mock the boy because he had never seen him throw up from drinking. It was about this time I decided the party was over. Speardane got a ride with Dave, who at some point had become the sober driver. I think it was when Chad started taking Vanilla Ice shots and Speardane made him a martini. Boys left, I found the bedroom garbage can and took it straight to the garage. Found a little leftover in the bathroom and cleaned it up. Took a look at the glasses of beer, martini, random mixed drinks on the table and decided there was nothing that couldn't wait until morning. Went into the bedroom, realized sleeping next to a man with vomit on his breath was not a good idea, and took my pillow into the living room.

All in all it was not a terrible night. Which makes me happy because I've had bad luck with New Years' in the past. A story for another time. Sorry I can't provide pics of the festivities, but I was one of the few who did not get a digital camera for Xmas. Well, Happy New Year. Peace out.