I went to the circus on Sunday. I have to say it was disappointing. Even drinking beforehand didn't make it better. Of course, I think I was still slightly hung over from Saturday night, and quite possibly from Friday night. I just don't have the lightning fast recovery time I did in college.

What I recalled as a majesty of lights, sounds, acrobatics, and exotic animals turned out to be a mediocrity of lights, annoying characters, snail-slow acrobatics and animals that looked like they would rather be doing anything else right now. Don't get me wrong, there were definitely some high points. The best part was the stunt where seven guys (or girls, I don't mean to be sexist - it's hard to tell with helmets on) ride motorcycles around inside a steel mesh globe. I love that. In fact, I would pay full ticket price to watch that for two hours. There was also a lady who trained dogs, cats and birds, which I found much more interesting than the tigers, who looked like they were just a few seconds shy of snapping and killing everyone, and the elephants, who looked sad and pathetic.

Maybe I've grown older and cynical, and maybe it was just an off night for the performers, but I think it will be a while before I go to another circus.

Wow...that was a bit depressing. I started out intending to make it slightly humorous, but it just didn't come out that way. The motorcycle thing did rock, however. I think I'm going to try to talk Kyle into constructing one of those in our backyard when we get a house. Vroom Vroom!

Remember a couple of weeks back, when I was talking about how I was slowing down and not staying out until 4:30 in the morning? I wish I had kept up with that slower pace. It is now 4:11 PM on Saturday afternoon, and I’m just beginning to feel human again. Barely.

My friend Kyle has become tired of paying rent. I also am tired of paying rent, and was considering moving into a tent under an overpass as an alternative. Luckily, Kyle is smarter than I am, and hit upon a more ingenious solution: we should buy an older house together, fix it up, and sell it after a couple of years to become instant billionaires. I am assuming there is buried pirate treasure on the property somewhere. (I know everyone is wondering what this has to do with the mother of all hangovers, just bear with me…I’m easily distracted and still a bit fuzzy in the brain, so I’m rambling a bit.)

Last night started out innocently enough. (How’s that for foreshadowing?) After leaving the office, I stopped in a Goatfeather’s to have a quick beer and visit my friend Joye. From there, Kyle and I went over to look at a house we are considering buying from some friends of ours, Brian and Sara. We cooked hamburgers and Brian attempted to get us drunk and up the asking price. It worked. In fact, we agreed to buy the house and continue to let them live there for free. We’re also going to groom their dogs and cook for them nightly.

In all actuality, we all came to an agreement, and then Kyle and I got intelligent and decided to go back to Goatfeather’s. Which would have been fine, if we hadn’t let Joye talk us into going out to Art Bar after her shift ended. This is where the night got interesting. (Insert sinister sounding music here, followed by maniacal laughter.) I don’t know what is about Art Bar, but I can never find it. It doesn’t move, and I’ve been there multiple times, but I can never quite remember where it is. Regardless, Kyle and I went and hung out with Joye and some of her coworkers, whom I’ve written about before. We left at about 4:30 and headed back to Kyle’s house, where I slept on his futon, which makes this weekend automatically qualify as a great weekend.

I woke up around 10:30, and headed home, where I lay down and slept until 2:00. I’m too old for this. Also, I bought circus tickets last night, which should make for an interesting post on Monday, since I’m planning to smuggle a flask in.

To review:

1.Kyle and I are buying a house.
2.I’m hungover.
3.I’m going to the circus.
4.Joye is the devil.
5.Kyle is a leprechaun.

Have a great weekend, kids, and fill me in on your misadventures in the comments section.
Word to your moms.

***Update: I had forgotten about this until Kyle reminded me: I lost the dumbest bet I've ever made Friday night. I bet Brian $5 I could eat an entire grapefruit before he could finish chugging a beer. What made me think I could master the citrus faster than he could down a beer? We may never know...

I was watching TV last night, and a commercial came on for the new NBC “reality” show based on picking out new cast members for an updated Grease. The tagline at the end of the commercial said something to the effect of “20 million viewers can’t be wrong.” I’m here to tell you: yes, yes they can. It seems to be a common misconception that, just because something is immensely popular, it is therefore of high quality.

Take, for instance, the Dave Matthews Band. They are wildly popular amongst high school and college kids, bridging the gap between frat boys and frat boys who like to pretend that they’re hippies. Also, chicks dig them. However, all of their songs sound exactly the same and last approximately 23 minutes. 23 minutes of my life that I will never get back. Just one example of popular not meaning quality. However, I realize that this is just my opinion, and some of you may love Dave Matthews Band (or DMB, as all the hipsters say.) This is fine, you are entitled to your opinion, even if it is borderline retarded.

Let’s move on to something we all (I hope) can agree on: Hitler Youth. At its height during World War II, the membership was 2.3 million. That doesn’t sound like a huge number, until you consider a few points. First, the world population was much smaller then. Second, Germany’s population is much smaller than that of the US. Third, only white kids that were Protestants were allowed to join. So, really, this was quite the popular organization. Another case of popularity not necessarily equaling quality. Hopefully, me mentioning Hitler Youth several times (Hitler Youth, Hitler Youth) will get me some google hits and attract some very interesting people to my page (Hitler Youth). Did I mention Hitler Youth? Seriously, while I’m not the world’s biggest fan of Jews (that title belongs to Larry Francis of Dearborn, Michigan,) I am the number one fan of Jews in my neighborhood, possibly within city limits. I mean them no ill will by mentioning Hitler Youth; I’m only trying to illustrate a point. To reiterate: Hitler Youth = Bad, Jewish people = Good.

There are many other examples I could use, such as the multitude of reality shows, one hit wonder pop stars, and Canada, but I think you’ve probably gotten my point by now: we should all burn Canada down. Wait, that wasn’t it at all. (also, our gentle neighbors to the north, I’m only kidding. I love Moosehead Lager, and by proxy, Canada herself.)

So please, no one burn down Canada, and remember: Larry Francis, I’m coming for you, baby. Wear that title belt while you still can.

I’ve made a decision. I know I’ve been complaining about writer’s block a good bit. Here’s a big part of the problem: I originally intended to keep this very family friendly, with a rating of PG, PG-13 tops (extreme cleavage, but no nipples). This was because I wanted to appeal to a wide spectrum and not offend people. I’ve changed my mind. I’m sure a few of you have noticed it creeping in slowly over the past couple of months, and I believe it may have culminated with my recent post about murdering hobos while strung out on horse tranquilizers.

That paragraph made my laugh, and I almost took it out because it might be slightly offensive. That’s when it hit me: I can’t finish any posts recently because I keep removing the parts that make me laugh the most, and then I get annoyed because they suck. Well, ladies and gentlemen, I’m going to cross the line. I’m going to start working blue.

Don’t worry, I’m not going to get ultra-offensive just for the sake of offending people. I’m also going to attempt to refrain from using profanity unless it truly adds something to the sentence. So maybe I’m not truly working blue, but it damn sure ain’t something I’d let a nine year old read…unless he’s exceptionally bright and mature…in which case he’ll probably find me in poor taste.

You know you’re getting older when you choose to stay in on a Friday night because it’s raining pretty hard. Especially considering that you once went out to the bars during an ice storm. It’s true, kids. While I still have sparks of genius (read: staying out until 4:30 AM) from time to time, I’m definitely slowing down. Last night was spent drinking beer and reading at home instead of drinking beer and telling lies with my friends in a bar.

I also recently started growing my winter beard, and it’s showing a lot more grey than it did last year. It’s also itchy, because the weather here in South Carolina is insane. It’s been in the mid 70’s for the past week, and it’s January. It’s supposed to cool off this week (by which I mean high 50’s,) but I’m not sure I can stand the itching that long.

I know I’ve been slack on posting lately, but I’ve been busy getting high on horse tranquilizers and murdering hobos down by the railyard. That, my friends, is a full time job. So many hobos, so few places to hide the bodies. Lately, though, there seems to be a shortage of horse tranquilizers around these parts, and I just don’t have the same bloodlust when I’m sober as I do when I’m strung out.

In all actuality, I’ve just been suffering from writer’s block. My hard drive is filled with half-written, poorly-shaped posts (as opposed to my normal posts, which are fully-written and poorly-shaped). I’ve started ones about how much I love drinking with Australians, how much I love drinking with Brits, and how much I hate that fast food workers can’t seem to get the bread, cheese, and patty to all line up, one atop the other. I also intend to write one, replete with pictures, of my New Year’s Eve festivities (I wound up drunk and wearing a singlet with 3 guys I had just met.) Stay tuned and be patient with me. I’ll be back soon, but for now, Lil’ Ray Ray just showed up at my door with some more tranqs.