Let me get this straight.

My pay raise is being postponed yet again? That's cool. I guess you didn't realize when I said I don't make enough money to support myself, I've never been this broke, and I am constantly stressed about finances that I really meant I don't make enough money to support myself, I've never been this broke, and I am constantly stressed about finances!

In their defense, there are legal matters in acquiring our new location, and the lease signing keeps getting pushed further back, but, damn let's get real. I was interviewing for other jobs they ask me to stay, give me a pay raise to make it worth my while, starting as soon as the lease gets signed, apparently, and then proceed to dangle the carrot in my face for close to two months! What the hell am I waiting for?

I should march in there and tell them all to go 'you know what' themselves.
Demand my raise.
Maybe try to find another job.
Burn the place down.
Win the lottery.
Create a microscopic civilization, that'll inhabit that leftover gyro I forgot I had in the fridge, and worship me as a God.
Sit on my ass and hope they finally give me what they promised!
Which sounds the most realistic?

Vitality!

So I've been rehearsing a play for several weeks now. Actually, I'm directing two incredibly talented actors in a one act called Audrey In Dresses by Jason Williamson. It's part of a local playwriting festival that I've been involved with for the last several years. For more information check out the website below or just look to the right of this post and click on the Speaking Ring link.

Speaking Ring Theatre Company Presents

The Third Annual Vitality One-Act Festival

Featuring Nine New Plays from Across the Country!

(Opening June 2nd and Running Two Weekends Only!)
Thursdays - Saturdays June 2 - 11
At Holy Covenant United Methodist Church
925 W. Diversey

This Year's Theme: The Boiling Point
How We React When Pushed to an Extreme
And How We Are Changed


Call 312-458-9374 For Reservations

FOR FULL SCHEDULE AND INFO GO TO
www.speakingringtheatre.org

{The play I directed goes up on Fridays and Saturdays.}

YAY ME!

So I got up this morning, rode my bike to work, and the manger says, "I forgot you were working today. I thought you had it off. There won't be alot to do?"

I think to myself, "That's right. Why didn't I think of that? I could've slept in."

My boss, Buyer, shows up and says, "This sucks. Why are we working today?"

I say, "I don't know."

Half hour later I'm sitting at home, nothing to do all day except lounge around with my baby. Maybe we'll go on a picnic. Maybe we'll go for a bike ride. Maybe we'll go to the new DQ around the corner and get chili cheese dogs and a Peanut Buster Parfait. Maybe we'll just stay in bed and be dirty little bunnies!
I have the day off!

On The 7th Day he rested...

Cause he was just a wee bit hungover!

"Oh my god, is that the sun?" the befuddled young man inquired.

"Yep," came the reply.

"What's it doing up so early?"

"It's five in the morning! Bar's closed. Go home." offered the surly bouncer at that country music dive in Uptown that everyone loves so much.

Five in the morning? Five O'clock in the Morning. The sun was coming up. I had to go home and get some sleep. Who knew that the Pub Crawl would last until Five Frickin O'Clock in the Frickin Morning? We had started around nine or ten. When had I lost all concept of time? Why hadn't I gone home between the last two bars?

Well, because I had paced myself pretty good. Only having a drink or a couple of drinks at each stop along the way. I definitely wasn't as Rip-Roaring Drunk as I could've been. I was calm. Relaxed. Just enjoying the night. Hanging with some friends. {My two friends are getting married in a few weeks back in Cape Cod and instead of a Bachelor/Bachelorette party they decided to have a Pub Crawl with a bunch of friends.} Just Chillin.

Then we go to our last stop, the country dive, and everything goes down the pisser. More Cheap beer. Honky Tonk Bands. Cowboy Boots, and drunken 'idjits' trying to two-step while I aim to start a mosh pit! We closed the sucker down! We all filed into the street, the remnants of the party, and said good bye in the coming sunlight. I hopped a cab home, and crept, not so silently, to bed. Then I slept the sleep of the recently deceased. And I slept and slept and slept. Until I could sleep no more, but I did. I awoke with half of my Sunday past. Feeling nowhere near as refreshed as I should have, and I putzed through the rest of my day with the energy of a seventy year old man recovering from a triple by pass.

So three cheers for the happy couple. I hope everyone had just as much fun as I did, and I hope everyone made it home safely, except for you Mr. Moriarty. Sorry to hear about your spill. Get well soon.

My American Flyer

Did you ever see that movie? American Flyers? Kevin Costner? Rae Dawn Chong? Two brothers come together and take part in 'The Hell of The West'; a grueling three day bicycle race through the Rockies! Not a great movie. It's watchable... but I digress.

I've been looking into getting a bike lately. I'd like to get a little exercise during the Summer. When the weather's nice I'd like to enjoy my commute. I'm tired of spending the money on CTA. Riding the sofa hasn't maintained my rock hard abs the way I hoped it would.

The problem is I don't have a ton of cash to spend right now. Hmmm, what to do? What to do? I went to the bike shop and (Holy Crap!) does that Huffy come with a Hooker? Heart transplants are less expensive! I checked out Craig's List but can't walk all the way out to Winnetka to pick up a bike.

This morning I rummaged around in the basement of my apartment building, underneath the stairwell, behind a curtain of spider webs, and under two inches of dust and what do I find? An old fashioned, blast from the past ten speed, and two layers of gunk, dust, and years of neglect! The tires were flat. The chain was rusty and, I ain't gonna lie, it's pretty beat up! But it's obviously been left behind; abandoned. Now it's mine.

I wiped it down... 5 times. I took it to an gas station, and pumped up the tires. I adjusted the seat. Off I went! Peddling down the street, cobwebs trailing behind me, whirling in my jets-tream! I rode to work and my commute which can take anywhere from 25 minutes to over an hour on the bus took me 12 minutes! Of course the bike could disintegrate beneath me at any given moment and I'm pretty sure the brakes won't last the week but man it felt good to ride my stolen... obtained... appropriated bicycle.

I don't believe in Peter Pan

Frankenstein

Or Superman!

All I want to do is

Bicycle

Bicycle

Bicycle

I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike!

-Queen

The Family Mix

I just finished, minutes ago, reading a book that my mother gave to me for Xmas... 2 or 3 years ago. (I forget exactly when.) I do that thing, that I think everybody does, when I have a book that I need to read. Say someone gives you a book that they really enjoyed, and instead of starting right into it there's a few other books that are first on the list. Then of course there are those books screaming out to be read from bookstore windows, library shelves, even friend's coffee tables. Before you know it years have gone by and there's a book tucked away in a corner that you've been meaning to read.

Well, I decided to read this particular book and I'm glad I did. The book is called The Funnies and is by J. Robert Lennon. Its a story about the Mix family, now all grown up and dealing with the death of the father, Carl Mix, who was the creator and face behind the 'Family Funnies' comic strip. The one paneled comic, similar to a few I could name in existence today, followed the exploits of the Mix family back in their early years. Tim, the protagonist, of the book and one of five children in this dysfunctional family inherits the comic strip from a father whom he resented for years and has to prove himself worthy of filling his father's shoes. Tim's faced with an identity crisis, addled siblings, an ailing mother, a town so obsessed with the Mix's fame that they change the town's name to honor the cartoon family, and the pressures of trying to live up to expectations he'd never before known.

I won't say anymore except that I empathized with Tim. It's not easy trying to be your own man, and discovering your voice as an artist in a world that seems to be designed to keep you down. Obstacles appear in you path and the trick is to get by, through or around them while trying to maintain your course. Sometimes you are successful. Sometimes you get off track. Sometimes it takes getting knocked off track to realize you were never on the right track from the start.

It's a dud.

I have this thing that I do. It may be silly but I do it anyway. When more than 50 people have told me, "Oh my God, you have to see this movie! You'd love it! It's F'n Hilarious! Its right up your alley. This is one of the best movies ever made, its so boss!"... I don't. I won't see that movie, not out of spite, but out of a desire to see a movie with unbiased eyes. Also, most of the time a movie doesn't live up to all the hype... it couldn't possibly. I'll wait until all of the Hub-bub has died down and then maybe I'll check out that movie if nothing else is on TV.

So last night we rented Napoleon Dynamite. It was alright. It was okay. It wasn't this monumentally funny movie which I had been told to see. It was kind of boring, and while, I'll admit, I snickered once or twice I didn't really laugh at all. I did, however, appreciate the presence of John Gries, Uncle Rico, who played Lazlo Hollyfield in Real Genius (an actual funny movie) and Kip, the older brother was slightly amusing.

I just don't understand what all the raving was about. There are better underdog movies. Rocky. Rudy. Joe Dirt. There are better high school movies. Sixteen Candles. Mean Girls. Slumber Party Massacre. There are better geek movies. Weird Science. Trekkies. Phantom Of The Opera.

It wasn't a bad movie. It was just mediocre, and mediocre isn't funny. Maybe next time I'll rent Open Water. That should be good for a laugh.

A Man Dying Of Thirst...

... Crawls out of the desert and asks you for a drink of water. Do you

1. Say, "I'm sorry. I don't speak good English."?
2. Give the man a beer?
3. Offer the man a big refreshing glass of ice water with a slice of lemon, and make him wait two months before you let him have a sip?

Let's say that I was dying of thirst, financially, and 'The Man' offered me a drink but then keeps stringing me along and postponing my relief, day after day, week after week, and pay period after pay period. Will the final reward be more pleasing then getting up and head-butting that proverbial SOB?

We'll have to wait and see...

It's Official!

I'm an addict!
Don't cast your stones at me. Who among us is perfect? Who hasn't been clobbered by an overwhelming dependency? Freud. Ray Charles. Anthony Keidis. The former Mr. Halle Berry. Gary Busey. The list goes on an on.
Drugs.
Alcohol.
Fried Foods.
Gambling.
Women.
Reality Television.
Clay Aiken.
Then you have my undoing; my albatross.

Katamari Damacy!

No, it's not contagious. No, I won't go blind. No, I didn't catch it from a lady of questionable morals... It's a game for the Playstation 2 and it is video heroin, let me tell you! It's originally from Japan but has gained popularity in the states.
You are the pint-sized Prince of All The Cosmos and your father [You guessed it] The King of All The Cosmos has gone off on a bender and accidentally destroyed all of the stars in the sky. It is your duty to rebuilt the Heavens by guiding your Katamari [a colorful orb] around different levels of play and picking up more mass by absorbing items in your way all the while listening to a Japanese techno-Pop soundtrack. You start off small, on the first level you're rolling around a desk and picking up thumbtacks, erasers, cough drops, etc, but later on in the game you're rolling over cars, houses, livestock, buildings and even islands. The graphics are crazy. The music is snappy, and the game play is downright mesmerizing.
I've rebuilt almost everything except for the moon, and I keep playing levels to make sure I get the highest score possible. I catch myself humming the music, and I've even considered getting a panda with flames shooting out of its butt as a child holds on for dear life tattooed on my own ass. I have a problem.
The capper was waking up from a nap this afternoon and realizing that I'd been playing in my dreams. Controlling the Prince and Katamari through my mental powers. Rolling through ponds. Hunting through the school yards. Decimating cities. All from the comfort of my bed; unconscious.
I'm pathetic. I can't stand to be around myself. I'm worthless and weak! Even now I feel the siren song of the playstation calling to me from the other room. Tempting me. Daring me. Haunting me.
I have to go... um, I need to, eh... walk the car... throw out the dog... wash the garbage... Don't Judge Me!

730 Days & Counting

Who'd have ever thought it? Who'd have predicted that two springs ago when I started casually dating my girlfriend that we would be here two years later in love and planning a future together. [There those that had there doubts, I'm sure.] But here we are.
Circumstances, conditions, friendships, luck, whatever you want to contribute our success to... feel free. I'd like to think it's due, in part, to my incredibly mature attitude towards love and relationships. In actuality we owe it all to her for, usually, being so amazingly understanding, and patient. Oh, and our mutual respect for the humor of flatulence!
So, anyway, I just wanted to say it's been two years since we decided to date seriously, and I love her the majority of every single day we spend together. I love to hear her laugh; it's even better when I'm the cause. I love to see her smile. I love to chill on the couch and watch bad movies, or Sex And The City with her. I love cooking for her, and not really cleaning up my mess. I love doing our laundry, and no I don't try on her undergarments. (They're too tight.) I love sharing everything with her, and I guess what I'm trying to say is... She's still a Bomb Ass Chick!

Sometimes

Sometimes I get so wrapped up in the day to day.

Sometimes I worry about nothing but making it to Friday.

Sometimes I go through the motions.

Sometimes I go to work, and carry out my duties until it's time not to.

Sometimes I eat three meals a day and go to bed.

Sometime I'll have a beer, then brush my teeth.

Sometimes I wake up and realize I'm not accomplishing anything.

Sometimes I just forget what I'm doing in life.

Sometimes I panic.

Usually I'm just content standing on the edge;

Contemplating my next move.

Where's My Mach 3?

This morning after hitting the snooze button for the 13th time I got out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom for my morning routine. I was bringing the razor to my face when all of the sudden I remember a sliver of a dream I had earlier; somewhere between sleep and waking. I then started to get glimpses of other half dreams I had... Someone gave me a writing assignment but neglected to tell me the subject of my piece... I was in an automobile accident with some friends but when we came to we had been healed and cleaned up by some mysterious presence... The sliver of the dream that was prompted by my shaving was this...
Apparently, I showed up late to a performance of a show, and had forgotten to shave. Someone handed me a razor and some shaving cream and demanded that I clean up before getting into costume. I could argue. {It must have been an Equity show.} Anyway I smear the shaving cream over my stubble and lift the razor to my face and shave.
One stroke. Okay.
Two strokes. Everything is in order.
Three strokes. Done a thousand times.
Four strokes. Ow, damn what's was that?
I'm bleeding. I cut myself. I can't remember the last time I cut myself shaving.
I hope it's just a nick. It was.
The next one wasn't. It bled like a stuck pig.
In fact I proceeded to slice into my face on every stoke to follow, but I kept shaving. I had to go onstage. My face was a collage of shaving cream, blood, and loose stubble getting caught in the wounds. I couldn't stem the blood flow.
My stage manager rushed in the room to get me for my entrance! I turned to him and was about to call him every word that my parents hate me to use in my blog...

-POOF-

I wake up. I'm lying in bed. I get up, dream forgotten and stumble to the bathroom for my morning routine.
Needless to say, I took my time shaving this morning.

R.I.P Frank Gorshin

A friend of mine just alerted me to the fact that Frank Gorshin, best known for portraying The Riddler on the old Batman TV series, has died. He was 72 years old, and is survived by his wife of 48 years. Apparently he died of complications due to lung cancer, emphysema and pneumonia.

That makes me sad. I grew up with reruns of that show, and I have to admit I used to love it! It comes off less cool nowadays but I'll sit through the occasional episode or five. I still get a kick out of the Bat-Gadgets, Bat-vehicles, and Bat-sayings!

Frank Gorshin, was also an accomplished impressionist, and stage actor, but to me he will always be the man in the green and purple tights, and no one can take his place; Jim Carey included.

Bat-villians who are no longer with us include:

Burgess Meredith - The Penguin

Cesar Romero - The Joker

Vincent Price - EggHead

*Frank Gorshin - The Riddler

Of course both Catwomen are still alive, as are Adam West and Burt Ward: The Dynamic Duo. I wonder what ever happened to the other citizens of Gotham City?

Speaking of Stupid!

Have you seen this?
This Norwegian dude jumps off the Eiffel Tower, supposedly as part of a publicity stunt, and dies. His parachute got caught and ripped off on his way down. He jumped from 380 feet! He even had a hidden camera in his helmet... I guess helmets don't always save lives.
The best part is he isn't the only one. Hundreds have died jumping from the Eiffel Tower over the years. Some intentional; Some just stupid.
I've never really met any Norwegians, but after reading this article my view of humanity and all of its diverse cultures has changed. Apparently, stupid people are born in every country around the world.

http://aolsvc.news.aol.com/news/article.adp?id=20050517100109990034


[For more mind-numbing idiocy, and proof that stupid people are indeed taking over the world tune in to Chaotic; Britney Spears & Kevin Federline's new reality television series. Yeah, those two should breed! Check your local listings.]

I Feel So Grown Up.

I Dread Mondays! It's amazing!

After years of serving and bartending in the restaurant business and working weekends, odd hours or whenever I could get shifts I now understand what it's like to live for the weekends. The Monday through Friday work week can be nice. Stable. Reassuring. When Friday evening hits you feel liberated! Your work is done. Two whole days off; hopefully. But then Sunday morning as you sleep in, get up early to attend Church, or stumble home from some anonymous bacchanalian boink-fest you think, "Oh no, I have to get up and go to work tomorrow!" Then the rest of your weekend loses the magical glow that it had possessed prior to your realization.

For instance, this past Saturday I closed a children's theatre show I've performed in for the last eight weeks, I was supposed to hang out with a visiting friend (Signals got crossed.), and Sunday I went to the Sox game with my cousin to watch my talented girlfriend and her work group, The Navy Pier Players, sing the National Anthem... Not to mention I got to see my home team, the Baltimore Orioles, beat up on the Chicago White Sox 6 - 2! It was a good weekend but,like I said, Sunday it dawned on me that my weekend was drawing to a close. That soon enough I would have to drag my but out of bed and psyche myself up for another five days of slaving away for The Man until my next weekend offers me yet another temporary escape. It's all just a tad bit depressing.

Is this what my parents and millions of real people with real jobs have known all along? Is this what growing up means? I can't even spend my weekends bumming around with my girlfriend because she works a Wed- Sun work week. We don't have days off together just to sleep in, catch a movie, eat junk food, and chill. Is this the price we pay?

I used to like Mondays. They were the beginning of a new week. Now I hate Mondays. They are the beginning of a new week.

Friday The 13th

That poor little Vorhees boy. I feel sorry for him, I really do. All he wanted to do was go swimming. It was hot that day at Camp Crystal Lake. A dip would've been refreshing. Too bad the little window-licker couldn't swim. He drown and that was all she wrote.
Mommy went berserk and started killing those fornicating camp counselors, she lost her head and Jason returns from the dead for the first time [How come he drowned as a little boy but is a full grown man when he come back to life?] and the real massacres begin. That Jason is one industrious fellow. Who knows what the actual body count is? How many angst-ridden, sexually active teenagers lost there lives thanks to him. He Ruined Summer Camp. Hell he ruined outer space there for a while. He even went toe to toe with Freddy! And it all began because no one ever taught him to swim.
That's a shame.
When I have children I'm going to make sure they all take swimming lessons and so prevent them from turning into homicidal maniacs. There's a lesson to be learned here people.

Every Now & Then I Like a Good Ding Dong

Whoa! Whoa! Hold your horses!

I'm talking about the Hostess snack cake! Get your mind outta the gutter! Today my boss gave me a Ding Dong as an afternoon snack. It was great! Delicious! Made my friggin' day!
And you... shame on you and your nasty assumptions.

Nothing To Say.

I guess I'm between panic attacks. I've been in a pretty good mood the last few days, and even managed to smile for the majority of the time.
I started rehearsals for a one act that I'm directing for a local festival and things are falling into place right from the start.
Feels good to collaborate with people I respect. Feels good to appreciate the little things. Feels good to be between panic attacks.
I'm sure tomorrow I'll freak out about medical bills, my pay rate, my job, my future, etc. Right now, I'm doin' alright.

I Can't Help But Wonder...

Where have all the cowboys gone?

Top 10 Reasons 'I Love My Mommy'

10) She once emptied my catheter bag twice in one night. (That's love.)

9) Because I know, despite what she says, that I'm her favorite son.

8) My Mom is a bad mutha... SHUT YOUR MOUTH! I'm talking about my Mom. She's the man!

7) The most important 2 words of my youth: Left Overs!

6) She's my biggest fan.

5) Hallmark says I have to.

4) I don't have to have a pin number at the Bank of Mom.

3) I am the favorite son, right? (Eat it, you two.)

2) Three years ago she was diagnosed with the big C and has since pimp-slapped that CANCER!

1) She gave birth to me and my enormous head. Ouch!

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!

Every cloud has a silver lining.
There's always tomorrow.
Look on the bright side.
When life gives you lemons... make lemonade.
At least you've got your health.

(Yeah, unless my kidneys fail me tomorrow. You know I've been having these pains. Right here. Oh no, that's all I need,a trip to the emergency room. How am I going to pay for that? What if I need to stay overnight? What if it's serious? That would just be the perfect little cherry on top of my crap sundae. What if I didn't have my health? Great now I've got something else to worry about, thank you very much! Why don't you take all your positivity and handy little sayings and cork it?! Let me wallow for awhile? Sometimes it just feels better.)

* Do not be alarmed. My kidneys are fine, knock on wood, I'm just illustrating a point. And no Mom, I don't have health insurance right now, I know.

The Fifth Of May

Happy Cinco De Mayo!!!!!
How did you spend this joyous occasion?
Me?
I went to LuchaVaVoom! A luchadore wrestling event here in Chicago at the Congress Theatre. It was fantastico!

People from all walks of life, except Koreans... we didn't see any Koreans, came together in a dilapidated theatre to drink outrageously priced,canned beer, and cheer on a bunch of masked Mexican wrestler in haphazardly built ring. There were midgets, burlesque dancers, Los Rudos (Bad Guys) & Los Technicos (The Good Guys). The event was MC'd by some no name and that dude who does the voice of Sponge Bob, Tom Kenny!

It was better than any WWE event I've ever seen. The enthusiasm. The energy! The drunks! It was a lot of fun.

At the end I bum-rushed the stage with a million other Gringos and bounced around savoring the experience and taking pictures with half naked women who looked soooooo much better from ten rows away.
My thanks to my compadres for taking me. I'll get the disposable developed soon.

The Blue Demon Jr. is Numero 1!!!!

Dear Corey Clark,

You are an idiot!

I just watched the Prime Time Live Special Report "Fallen Idol". [Okay, maybe I'm the idiot.] I just can't believe this is newsworthy. Here's a guy, young aspiring artist, American Idol cast off with a criminal past claiming that Paula Abdul coached him through the whole process. She told him what to sing, what to wear, paid for his hair cuts, etc. He even says that they had a sexual relationship... GOOD FOR YOU! I can't tell you how many times I satisified myself to the Rush Rush video, while keeping one eye closed so Keanu didn't take the wind out of my sails. Don't even get me started on the Opposites Attract video. That MC Skat Cat's one lucky cat... who skats.
Paula Abdul, Mrs. Estevez (No More) wanted to bump uglies with some broke, young punk and he has the nerve to, years later, want to set the record straight. Why is that I wonder. His record deal? His scandalous memoirs? The fact that his fifteen minutes faded away over a year ago?
The only thing worthwhile in the whole news report were those pics of Randy Jackson playing in the band Journey. That outfit was hot!

For future reference, anyone making claims of sexual escapades with any reality television star, personality, or judge should be able to present me and the viewing public with at least twenty minutes of footage of said escapade. Got it?

-Paula keep your head up. Oh, and call me. I need to go shopping.

Duped in Duluth

Maybe I'm heartless.
Maybe I'm not as forgiving as others.
Maybe I don't understand.
Maybe I don't have all of the facts.
Maybe love does conquer all.
Maybe I'm just a jerk!
All of these could be true...
But I have a hard time imagining if my bride-to-be disappeared without a word days before the wedding, cut her hair for a disguise, hopped a bus to Vegas, worried me and all of my family to death, sparked a nation-wide manhunt, then made up a lie about being kidnapped by a couple in a blue van and had to be dragged back to me with a blanket over her head to hide her shame that I would still want to marry the woman!
The guy still wants to marry her, seriously. He says the guilt for what she's done will have to be consequence enough.

Dude!

Come On! It's okay to be pissed. Everyone else is! Georgia's thinking about pressing charges. Officials are thinking about suing for up to 60 grand: the estimated cost of the manhunt. The town feels betrayed. All of those wedding guest gathering to pray for her on her wedding day are upset.
Cold Feet!? Hell, if I saw her on the street I'd put both my cold feet up her butt just for being an idiot!

I Can't Help But Wonder...

Who put the bop in the bop shebop shebop?
Who put the ram in the ramalama dingdong?

Still Waiting

I don't understand.
I know I'm not a priority but at least humor me. Make believe that you're mulling over my request. Is that too much to ask? Some, not all, have earned my respect and if not for that I'd have abandoned long ago. Who's going to get dumped all over when all is said and done poorly? Not I? You haven't made sure I'll be sticking around. I could be off on another adventure, or only doing what I have to do to get by. I don't want to be arrogant but if I walk, you'll flounder. You'll gasp. You'll flop. Dates are being moved. Plans changed. Our present reality ignored. What are you thinking? Are you thinking? The longer I wait for an answer the more I resent having to ask. Seething. Stewing in my own bitterness.
Maybe I'll take a little vacation from all the stress.

A Few Thank Yous

Thank you to all of my friends who were able to attend my 30th Birthday Party. It was good to see you there.
Thank you for the presents.
Thank you for the laughs.
Thank you for the shots. (I lost count.)
Thank you for the beers. (I didn't bother to count.)
Thank you for listening to me ramble on and on and on and on. I was feeling no pain.
Thank you to my honey for putting that trash can right next to the bed where it would be the most useful. You always know.
Thank you, one and all, for making my night so very memorable... at least what I can remember of it. Oh and I was completely useless Sunday.
Thank you.