Well…it’s done. My divorce was final as of Monday, June 26th. I’ve received so much incredible support from all of my family and friends. I never expected to be divorced this early in life, but I also never expected a lot of things that have happened. I’m relieved that it is all over. Now if the house will sell, I’ll feel a lot better.

I learned an important lesson in all of this. I’ve always heard that when life gets really tough, you learn who your real friends are. I’m proud to say that not a damn one of them let me down. No matter where across the globe we’ve scattered to, everyone rallied around me to make sure I was alright. From as far away as Italy and Okinawa, to as close as next door, you were all there. I even made a few new friends in the process. I have come to the conclusion that I have, beyond any doubt, the best, most loyal group of friends in the world. Rest assured, everyone, when life tries to knock you down, I’ll be right there to help you back up, just like you all were for me.

On a lighter note, since that is the most serious and personal I’ve ever gotten, I’m going to copy a line from an email Leighton sent me on Monday.

“Now that you’re free are you going to run off to Disney world, without pants on? Because I would.”

SNEU stands for Spork Nation European Union, apparently. This makes me sound much more important than I actually am, and I love it. Apparently I have reached a level of readership that warrants my very own watchdog group. The newly formed SNEU is in existence to make sure that I am fact-checking my posts and not contradicting myself. What confuses me the most is that the SNEU apparently thinks I am a responsible journalist that cares. Especially considering that the head of the SNEU has know me for my entire life. Also, he lives in Italy. I have been informed that the SNEU currently has 3 members. I know that Compton is one, I assume his wife Rebekah is another, but the third member remains a mystery as of press time. I suspect a diabolical super-villain. This is nice, because now I have an arch-nemesis, which my life has been missing.

Does having an arch-nemesis mean I get a costume?

I’m experiencing a bit of writer’s block this week, it seems. A lot of this has to do with my policy of not writing about work, and having spent the first three days of the week out of town at corporate training, essentially eliminating 72 hours worth of material. I also got a severe head cold during this trip, and have spent the last 2 days either at the office (which I don’t write about) or laying on the couch (which isn’t terribly exciting.) Don’t get me wrong, as far as couches go, this one rocks, but not in the “if this couch is rockin’, don’t come a’knockin’” sense. More in the “I wish I could breathe through my nose and get a solid night’s sleep” sense.

This is quickly turning into a pity party, which was not the original intent, so let me lighten the mood with a joke…Two guys walk into a bar, the third guy ducks! Hi-yo! (done in my best Ed McMahon voice) *rim shot* (crickets) Is this thing on? So…I just flew into town, and are my arms tired! (sound of cricket suicide)

In case anyone is wondering, this is quickly turning into the most random, poorly constructed post to date. I think I originally had something to write about, but I’ve completely lost track at this point. Have a great weekend; I’ll try to do something stupid and embarrassing so I can keep you entertained next week.

I’m not invincible like I used to be. I never used to get sunburned, or overly hungover, or sick all that much. I could run on 3 hours of sleep and stay out until all hours with the best of them. I could spend all day in the sun on the lake with no sunscreen and just get darker. What happened? I graduated from college and got a real job. This happened over 5 years ago, but adulthood is really starting to take its toll this year for some reason. Or maybe it’s that I finally have a job that I don’t dread going into every morning.

In any case, I find myself making responsible decisions during the week, which translates into a decreased tolerance for mayhem on the weekends, which translates to a lot of Sunday afternoon napping. On the rare occasion that I spend any amount of time outside in the sun, I refuse to wear sunscreen because I never used to burn. The reason I never used to burn was that I used to be outside a lot more often during the summer. If anyone is paying attention to this particular equation, you have no doubt arrived at the conclusion of me burning like crazy now because I still think I’m invincible. I got sunburned last Saturday, and it still hurts. Is this going to stop me from rinsing and repeating the exact same idea this weekend? No.

There is a not-so-subtle difference between me and most intelligent people. We both know we’re not invincible; I just have a stronger suspension of disbelief which allows me to pretend that I still am. It’s the last bastion of a misspent youth.

My friend Kyle is a genius. Sure, sometimes he wears a pot on his head like Johnny Appleseed, but that’s another story. Last week he came up with the idea that he should get a horse. He figures he can train the horse to find its way home all by itself, thus avoiding any type of DUI charges. It would also save money on gas, assuming it could just eat the grass in his yard. The only potential problems I can see with this are the lack of any type of lights or turn signals, plus the horse would also need to learn to correctly interpret traffic lights and stop signs. And the parking issue. I haven’t seen many hitching posts around town lately. Still, though, you have to give the kid points for creativity. Also, he knows where to find the biggest potatos.

So someone may have taken slight issue with being referred to as an enabler in a previous posting. *cough*Avril*cough* Let me state, for the record, that it was said in jest. If anyone in our 19 year long relationship is the enabler, chances are that I'm wearing the heavyweight championship belt on this one.

Avril, to put it simply, rocks out loud. So, in fact, does her friend Aubrey. Aubrey, ladies and gentlemen, was kind enough to notarize my divorce papers (oh yeah...in case anyone is out of the loop, I'm getting divorced) in a bar tonight. A fitting end, for anyone who knows me.

Long story short, Avril and Aubrey rock, and if they had a fan club, I would not only be President, I would be the entire administration. If anyone else tried to hold office, a bloody coup would be involved, with me ending up back in office. So don't even try, son. You don't want me to bring it. That's how much love I have for these two. Plus, they have a cheese tray.

I don’t think I’ve mentioned this before, and am too lazy to look back and see, but on my last night in Greenville, someone stole my hubcaps. I honestly did not realize that anyone did that anymore. Especially when said hubcaps were cheap plastic ones. It was odd, really.

The reason I bring this up is that I went to get new hubcaps today. Do I need to tell you how tempting it was to get some sort of light-up spinners? However, better judgment took hold, and I wound up going with traditional looking hubcaps. No spinners, lights, skulls, or anything else. Just round shiny things to cover the actual black, brake-dust-stained rims. It’s scary, really. I’m starting to make more responsible decisions every day. For instance, on Monday I was at home in bed before 10. Seriously. Tuesday night, I went to see J’Ouvert play again and only had 3 beers the entire night, even when Avril called me names. (She’s an enabler!) Then, last night, the night when any Budweiser product is $1 at Uncle Louie’s, I helped my friend Ashley prepare the pontoon for her maiden voyage. (I’ll write about the maiden voyage soon). Then, once again, home and in bed before 10. My plans for tonight? Cutting the grass and doing laundry. Could someone call the doctor or come drive me to the emergency room? I think I’m coming down with a bad case of adultitis.

In an attempt to subjugate the human race, air conditioners around Columbia staged a strike this past week, during the first really hot week of the summer. Right now, some of you are getting ready to tell me that summer doesn’t actually start until June 21. I know, but I choose not to care. For me, summer starts when it’s hot enough outside that you’re willing to go swimming. Keep in mind, I mean that you choose to go swimming without Beer whispering in your ear “Go ahead…it’s almost March, the water can’t be that cold.” Oh, Beer, you merry prankster. When I think back on all the good times we’ve had together, I can see that we were meant to be together.

Right! The air conditioner strike. I first found out about it when I went to a cookout at my friend Avril’s house. She informed me that it was actually nicer outside because her air conditioner was blowing out hot air. It was so hot in the house that the cats were lying so still that Avril thought they were dead. Tuesday night I went to see Davin, Avril’s husband, play with J’Ouvert at the Red Tub. (For the record, you two, spellcheck hates your names, and my page is filling up with red squigglies as I type. It also hates the word squigglies.) It was also hot at the Red Tub. Not scorching, because the sun had set, but it was definitely warm. Thank God my good friend Beer was there to help me stay cool. While J’Ouvert was setting up to play, I walked with Avril to go pick up food for her and Davin. I can’t remember the name of the coffee house where we stopped to grab food, but it will henceforth be known to me as The Hottest Coffee House in All of Creation. Seriously, it was beyond ridiculous, bordering on ridonkulous. The scary thing was that people were still drinking coffee. Apparently they are native to the Sun, or were raised inside of an active volcano by a family of angry bonfires. I could actually feel my brain melting. That being said, eventually Avril’s air conditioner got fixed (hope it’s still working!) and the combination of the great music by J’Ouvert (every Tuesday at 9:00 at the Red Tub) and beer made the night worthwhile.

Luckily for me, my air conditioners are either extremely loyal, or simply didn’t get the memo, because I was rocking a cool 73 degrees at home and in the car. Now, on to important business. None of you are buying t-shirts from Avril and Aubrey. When did you all become Canadian loving commies? Pinko bastards, I bet you’ve been speaking French and using the metric system!