chaos theory, potato chips, and I think I need more rum

Really, I think if I had a job writing acrid blog posts all day, I'd be so happy. I'd be like the caustic Peggy Hill with her musings. Only mine would be morose, maudlin, melancholy musings and not redneck, ignorant ones. Anybody know someone that would hire me? I'd quit this PhD shit in a second!

Oh, Prax, my prof is from Jersey, and she told me tonight that I am not cynical enough for Jersey. LOL!

Ok but really, I love my theory class. Seriously, this place makes me crazy, but on Tuesday nights, that all fades away into this blissful 3 hour class. I LOVE this class. Tonight, for example, we mused about the possibility of multi-verses and about what our "other selves" are doing at this moment. Personally, my other self is perpetually drinking whiskey, even when my present self is drinking whiskey, and that posed a problem to the theory, but not to mine, so perhaps I should write my own theory. Cranky Theory. I've got to come up with a diagram, though, because all the best theories have diagrams. I think it would look like Hemingway.

But really, the thing I like about this program is that it is multi-disciplinary. We are learning so much from so many disciplines: art, architecture, physics, biology, chemistry, anthropology, sociology...the list goes on. tonight, for example, it was all about string theory and quantum mechanics with a dash of thermodynamics and field theory. It was the most fascinating discussion, especially since it is such a hard class that everyone dropped out. The dynamics are so different when there are only 2 people in the class. AAAA, I would quit this damn place in a second if it weren't for the classes. I love the classes. Brilliant!

So we left class all jazzed up as usual, and D and I headed out for the customary celebratory wings and beer. I got asked out but ruined it as always by making some stupid comment about age. Why can't I just leave it alone? So he's 23? Who cares? But I had to make some mention about the formula bc now that I had a birthday, 23 is too young. Why can't I just keep my damned mouth shut? Ah well, still got free drinks out of it. Love bartenders.

And the positive thinking shit, well, kinda worked. I mean, I know for a fact that Zach Braff has suddenly realized I exist and is going to look up housing in Lubbock tomorrow! And Agent Mulder, while not in this universe, is certainly alive and living next door to my doppelganger, so that's a plus. The french fry fairy left some tonight at the bar but forgot to leave me some money to pay for it. I'll have to think harder next time. And I did get an A on the paper from the prof who "never gives As" so that rocks!

So let's keep going with this shit. Ok, here goes:

1. The 49ers will win the next 20 superbowls.
2. The cubbies will suddenly produce a butterfly effect that will break the curse and win us the next world series.
3. I will stop mentioning my real age when people think I'm 22. Hell, tomorrow I will be 22 but with the brain of my real age.
4. The french fry fairy, who is married to the whiskey fairy, will pay a giant advanced tab for me at the Davenport for when I come back into H-Town.
5. The vacation fairy will leave me a plane ticket to somewhere civilized very soon.
6. The stunning man, who was checking me out at the bar tonight but just couldn't bring himself to talk to me because I was wasting my life talking to the 23 year old about the formula, will come talk to me tomorrow bc I am telling everyone it is my bday tomorrow bc I didn't get a decent enough Kimday this year.
7. Fence Rider will get a giant kick in the ass and will call me up and confess his soul.
8. I will kick Fence Rider in the ass. And then make love to him in every position possible on my roof in the middle of a storm while a raven sings in the background. (ok, there had to be some 19th centurty Gothic literature in there somewhere)
9. The stunning man will be jealous of the escapades on the roof and will profess his need to have my brilliant, genius mind, so I will give him that and give Fence Rider my doppelganger's body.
10. Someone will randomly send me Zardoz in the mail.

I'm eating potato chips--just so you don't think the title is a farce.

Nothin' Ever Happens on Mars--er--Lubbock

Remember the good ole days when I used to post fantastically funny things that happened to me. Remember the rants about my job and the big headed baby? [Ah God, Glinda, I seriously almost linked to your flickr photo of her, but my inner angel just couldn't let me do it].

Remember the awesome parties and nights out at the devilport? That just doesn't happen anymore. And it's not like I've lost my cynicism or caustic wit (no, certainly not that). It's just that nothing freakin' happens here. You would think that somewhere in this town something funny would happen. I got nuttin'.

Perhaps it has a bit to do with the fact that I NEVER EVER EVER STOP WRITING FUCKING PAPERS AND TAKING FUCKING MIDTERMS. Yeah, it might have something to do with that. Jeez, I need a freakin' vacation.

Mmm, well there was that guy, a nicely dressed MBA type--should've been my first sign to stay away, who bought me a beer and then asked me what lotion I was wearing. I said that it was perfume, actu... And then he interrupted me and said, "Well I hope it's not Bath and Body Works bc I don't like to use that. Don't you have anything tingly in your purse?" Keep in mind, we're at a bar, and I just met him. This leads to him making other requests about watching him masturbate when I'm luckily saved by my friends. Yeah, see, there was a time when I could make even that funny, but here, no, it's just fucking creepy because it's fucking LUBBOCK!

Ok folks, goal for the weekend--I will find something funny to write about. It's all perspective. Yes, I will triumph!

The Longest Yard

Seriously, most jobs I've worked in required me to turn in a 2 week notice and then bolt. This week is just kicking my ass. I have to write a letter to personnel (and when I say letter, I really mean a work of literary repute), and then I have to present it tonight at the Board of Directors meeting. Then we have Q&A time where I answer why it is that I'm leaving, etc. Then, I begin telling people on my team, and finally, I draft a letter to the parents of all the kids telling them I'm leaving. Oh wait, and then I tell the kids personally. Longest week in history, and it is brutal. I am so emotionally wasted.

Luckily, I've been able to watch the CP who is about 3 weeks ahead of me in quitting, so I know what to expect. Man. Seriously, I've never done anything like this. Where are all of my peeps when I need them to take me to the Davenport???

Might as well have gone to Catbirds

The Davenport is still evil. I have no Vault, no Dew, no food in the house. I'm eating Gu.

Mesa Testa

Yesterday I lost my glasses, keys, and wallet in 3 different places. I found them all, but geez! This meant an evening hitching free rides on the lightrail and watching Sheryl Crow with no beer. Cranky was CRANKY (which is only fitting on G's last night in town).

It was a 75 hour week last week, but this week should be much lighter. I'm not even counting hours, and it's like a burden lifted, except for the fact that my brain has gone on hibernate.

Ok, I need me some Breakfast at Tiffany's, some wine, and some girl scout cookies. Yes, this is what single 30 somethings do on Thursday nights. I remember the days spent crawling from pub to pub. Now I crawl from couch to bed after falling asleep during a movie. Really, I've got to start having a life again. The year of Don Eduardo is not proving as adventuresome as the year of my boobs. Maybe I should make it the year of my boobs AND Don Ed.

To give myself credit, though, I did make a spontaneous decision to hit the Devilport the other day, where the bartender once again poured me samplers in rocks glasses and where the girls came out to say hi. The place is evil, and it is now compounded by the fact that it has free wifi now, so I can do work while being sucked into an abyssmal stupor. That should be productive.

Kimday Day 1: Cast Iron Stomachs and Livers

Yes, I'm posting at 2 am, post Pig Stand, post Devilport.

The Praxis arrived at 3, and we had a little celebratory drink at the IAH bar. Nothing like a 14 oz White Russian to start the day. Then we headed to Empire so that I could do some work, but alas, there is no Wifi there.

Next was the Pig Stand. Dear God! That was NASTY! My apologies for ever suggesting it. I still have road rash on my soft palate from the club sandwich. Then it was off to the Devilport. Praxis downed martinis like they were shots.

Here's the thing. Glinda and I think that we conquered the Devilport, but really, I think that it conquered us, in a way. G was going to skip drinking, and instead she had 6 martinis. After the first drink, she said, "I'm only going to drink whiskey." Her second drink was a vodka and grapefruit. Yeah, whiskey. Score 1 for the D. Score 5 more for each additional vodka grapefruits. Davenport 6, Kimday 0

Gordie wasn't going to drink at all. About 30 min in, she succombed to the power of the D, ordering her first martini--a white one. Then, she downed that one and drank half of another. Davenport 7.5, Kimday 0

Edgy: Edgy fell asleep at the D. That counts for at least 1.5. Davenport 9, Kimday 0

Jake the Snake: He drank a drink called Jonestown Koolaid and then mixed it up with Scotch. this is significant since Jake always berates people who drink anything else on a night of scotch. Davenport 10, Kimday 0.

Me: the big D caused me to consume mass quantities of food that really suck. Davenport 11, Kimday 0.

The Praxis--unbelievable amounts of liquor leads to slight stumbling to the car, then inability to talk in the restaurant afterwards, leaving me to argue the liberal side of things to 2 crazy drunken Neo Cons, and then inability to get out of the car. After being half carried up the steps and drinking 2 glasses of milk, he says, "Yeah, I think the Devilport got me." Davenport 25, Kimday 0

Who won? I'll let you judge, especially after you hear the highlights:

• coloring at the Pig Stand
• me taking a work phonecall while everyone else talks about my ass and vag
• the waitress--what the hell was she?
  
• how long does it take to make a black cow?
• consuming a 1/2 bottle of ketchup bc the food is so bad
• discovering the cure for hiccups--club soda and 2 limes
• tamales
• Latin American Hindis
• adding a new log to the fireplace
• burning a penis in effigy
• pulling down our pants (practicing for when Don Ed has his year next year)
• many many quotes which will have to wait until tomorrow bc I can't remember them now
  

I'm Tainted--ahhhhhhh

Sweet mother of God. Everytime we go to the Devilport, I am reminded of why we don't go there often. It's because the next day, I'm resigned to eating baked lays, salsa, and "Co-Cola's new energy drink." I've got a Warrior sized headache (going away now that I'm drinking my Co-Cola). Plus, at about 7 this morning, the Warrior took her revenge (something akin to Montezuma's revenge, if you get my drift). Still, an excellent way to celebrate the inaugural year of Warriorday. Here are highlights:

• The trip to Michaels the day before. It's like the poor white trash girl's Tiffany's. I quote Holly Golightly: "Well, when I get [the mean reds] the only thing that does any good is to jump in a cab and go to Tiffany's. Calms me down right away. The quietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there. If I could find a real-life place that'd make me feel like Tiffany's, then - then I'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name!" Everyone was so nice in Michaels, and they even gave me 40% off of my purchase, even though I didn't have a coupon.
• Fried pickles and ranch dressing, dubbed "Warrior Spears"
• Glinda had a Guiness because it was "darksided." I had a 5th avenue because I wanted a 5th avenue; Chuck had a Manhattan (I guess our drinks could represent the East Coast where all the tainted people live); Twoshirts had iced tea (I'm starting to think that he is on the other side--LIGHTSIDED!)
• Discussion of firearms at dinner, just like any redneck family from Ponchatula Parish
• The unveiling of the official Warriorday t-shirts (Edgy's--Gorgyles!; Mine--Slykicks!; Glinda's--Tainted!; and Twoshirts got shafted because I accidentally bought the wrong size. Praxis, your iron on transfer will be in the mail soon).
• Wearing of such tshirts--Glinda in a crew neck--HA!
• Parking situation at Devilport--there is no parking. I don't know where we all parked.
• The menu--very little tainted material to work with. We had to get creative. Twoshirts had Barbie's Bathwater, a drink which he felt "shrunk [his] testicles to the size of [something, I don't remember]." Glinda and I had Pitbull in the SKYY because she is most definitely a Pitbull hovering above everyone. Chuck had Sex at Sunset, when he should've remembered her pithy saying at the radio station, "I promise you won't go blind." During this time, Praxis was fighting with the dryer and Beelzebounce.
• Watching fish porn on TV and screaming, "Get it, Nemo--UH!"
• Some guy from the Merc in NY who flipped his business card at us and begged us not to take his picture just so that we would take his picture. He represented the 15 minutes of fame that the Warrior should've had but that we keep dragging out for her.
• This part didn't happen last night, but I just have to wonder if Corpus Christi will erect a statue of the Warrior. Why, you ask? Because Corpus already has 3 statues in the main square, apparently: Columbus, Jesus, and Selena. Why not the Warrior? Her gap toothed smile and portruding boob would forever be cast in bronze.
• The pictures. ungodly. I'll leave you to Glinda for those.
• Second round of drinks: G--same; Me--Antarctic Blast (It was blue and made no reference to the Warrior, but it was tasty); Edgy--what did Edgy get? And Twoshirts left--LIGHTSIDED. Praxis inadvertently left, too, because both my phone and G's died. We will have to wait for his post.
• Second and a 1/2 round of drinks: Some Pentecostal looking woman came up and offered us an Apple Martini, which Edgy gulped down, the warrior that he is. She wanted 2 ciggies in return, so maybe she wasn't Pentecostal. I think she was a plant from the Warrior--a test of sorts. We turned her dorksided anyway. G and I split another Pitbull. This was bad because any ounce of liquor over 2 drinks in the Devilport is ungodly. [Minor tangent here: One night I was drinking a martini at the D, and Edgy wanted some. We asked for a rocks glass with very little ice. I poured him a full rocks glass of the toxin, and then looked back at my martini glass. It looked virtually untouched. That, my friends, is the power of the Devilport. Do not mock us for only having 2 1/2 drinks]
• discussion of Mary and priests and the This and the That. No moon, though.
• Final departure, with G inviting us over for some wine (good god, I would never have recovered)

Well, folks, Co-Cola did me right. That Vault drink did the trick, and I am "healed." Time to finish cleaning my house now.

Are you ready for some WARRIOR???

Yes, my friends and fellow Warrior addicts, tomorrow is the night that we celebrate the Warrior's birthday (really her bday is Friday, but we all have plans).

I have prepared the celebratory t-shirts for the evening, complete with quotes from the lady of the night--er, I mean evening. Yes, you must wear them. I made a special trip to Michaels, and I called for permission first, but TwoShirts was the only one who answered (Glinda was snuggling under a tree or something).

Glinda, are you making halos? ;o) TwoShirts, your job is to actually watch the show. Click on the "clip of the show" section. Praxis, your job is to text us and send us pictures all night of you and your celebration. Edgy helped me make the shirts.

And the drinks of the evening? Some ideas: Four Horsemen, Shot From Hell, Three Wisemen, Absolutely ScrewedUp, Adam and Eve, Get the Hell out of my House, Bible Belt, Black Magic, Dark Indulgence, Devil's Piss, Dixie Stinger, Fallen Angel, Flaming Jesus, Gin and Sin, Her Name in Lights, Hillbilly Highball, Moon Quake Shake, Southern Hospitality, Time Bomb, Ugly, What the Hell, White Trash, and Witches' Brew.

Of course, I don't know if we can get those at the Devilport, but we'll see. So what time are we meeting folks? I've got class until about 7ish.

Epitaph

Zardoz was wrong. The Davenport is Evil.

Time Warp?

What in the hell happened? I would think that I went back to my collegiate days, except that my cellulite and creaking bones tell me different--that and the fact that I choose Absolut martinis over Olympia beer and Gomez tequilla. First of all, thanks to Glinda and TwoShirts, I've been partying like it's 1994 nearly every weekend. If it weren't freakin' 170 degrees outside, I might even wear my Grunge flannel from '94, but the thought makes me sweat profusely. [God, I loved the Grunge era]. Furthermore, the reason that I haven't posted to my blog is that for 4 days, I've been cranking out a semester's worth of work for these certification classes. It's like the time (and Panchette Villa, my old college roomie, remembers this) that I had 5 papers due in 2 days. Panchette still laughs when I had to ask her if the library was open at night because I never went there. [Glinda is sighing now]. Anyway, I'm now caught up and finished with the midterm! Yippee? Should I procrastinate some more? Probably. Another thing that makes me think I'm still in college is my apartment. It doesn't even look like a home, just a temp residence. I've been living out of boxes since I moved in 6 months ago, and it's time to move again. I even have 2 cats like I did in college. Poor Miller. Wonder what happened to him/her (did we ever figure it out?). I'm about to move back into the 'trose, thank God. Quirky little apartment. I bought a new '70 shagadelic throw rug with the perfect color palette for the place: chocolate, sky blue, bright orange, tupperware green, and bright yellow. The shower curtain is vinyl with the same colors in big vinyl bubbles. God, I can't wait to move in.
I won't be in the same complex as Glinda but close enough to continue this dream of never leaving the college experience. She wouldn't go to the Davenport with me tonight, but that's just as well because I ended up with a throw rug and a shower curtain. Anyway, I had a final point, but I forgot it, which is much like my college days, so there you go.

Fourth of July

If I didn't commit all the seven deadly sins this weekend, I certainly wore gluttony completely out. I've haven't had so many parties since college, and my body was much more equipped to deal with it back then. It all started off on Tuesday when Edgy and I went out with Glinda for margaritas. Glinda left and missed the Twisted Sister cover band at Blanca's and a few games of pool and shuffleboard. We laid off a little on the libations until Friday when Glinda and Edgy and I went to the Davenport, which will always end in trouble. This time I had a fan club who kept calling me Daisy Duke (I was wearing a little baby doll dress, so I'm not sure what the reference was all about) and touching my arm like Lennie in Of Mice and Men and saying, "It's so soft. it doesn't look that soft. It's like an ill-oo-zee-un." The three of us closed the bar and ended up at Walgreens where I bought pants and cotton candy. You can imagine how the night went from there.

Saturday was spent doing my paper, but sat night, Two Shirt invited us out to a party in 3rd Ward. I think that they sacrificed 70 chickens and a ranch full of cattle to the BBQ god because that poor man was cooking from 8 til 1am. There was also a buffet of gumbo, red beans and rice, 3 types of potatoes (Damn the potatoes were good!) and a cucumber salad that was too die for. This was topped with a bottle of Grey Goose apiece. Need I say more? Sunday was spent in the suburbs. See below.

The Fourth was fun. I didn't get any chiggers, despite the fact that I was on the grass, and nearly everyone else was on the tiny square patio. Glinda, ColdStone (sounds like a wrestler, which might be the case--dunno), Edgy and I braved the lush St. Augustine and came out ok, which is good since I read that chigger bites are actually caused by the larva, that insert some bodily protrusion, flush your skin with enzymes that slowly digest the skin cells causing some of them to turn to mush and others to form a hard, strawlike feeding tube, and then suck the damn skin cells up. Fireworks were surprisingly good. Biggest damn show I've seen. Edgy had his first veggie dog. Freaked him out so much that he broke his chair getting up to grab another Shiner. Poor thing.

Last night ended the toxin binge with a blueberry margarita from Senor Ritas. V good since they made it with real blueberries and not blue colored syrup. Not that I'm complaining about blue colored things, mind you. MMM...blue cotton candy. Glinda's holding my cotton candy for ransom, btw. I won't get it back until I present her with homemade peach cobbler and ice cream.

Still sore from the party in the suburbs. Let's clarify that...my body is sore from running across the yard and flinging myself at a slip and slide for hours. It's TwoShirt's fault. He started it and didn't look like he hurt himself at all. It's like the time that my friend, Pheebes, got drunk for the first time on a bottle of Gomez tequilla (To her credit, she only turned up the bottle because she thought it had the same alcohol content as a wine cooler ;O) ) She ran out of the apartment, across campus, stopped and fell over like a tree in the woods. We ran over and found that she was supported at the face only by a little shrub. we couldn't imagine how a shrub would not only break her fall but completely support her weight and furthermore, how her neck didn't break in the process. So, the geniuses that we were, my friend, Trinidad and I fell face first into neighboring shrubs, too, just to test it. Needless to say, she was still supported, but Trin and I went straight to the bottom, scratches covering our faces. I still don't get the physics of it to this day.