my dad, bill

well. there was a party. and while it was correctly observed that i do not really get drunk, it was also correctly observed that i continue drinking regardless. today it was observed that the aftereffects continue to be--how to say in your language--"piss-poor" in the le emotional scheme grande. so next time i drink for hours on end, someone say, "you are dumb," and use my full name. when i say, "but i'm not drunk!" make me say something humiliating--to you, me, or a third party.

then i stayed in adam and kat's well-decorated apartment. kat is very funny. when she met adam's ex-girlfriend she (kat) had an entire plate of deviled eggs in her mouth and paprika in her fingernails. last time kat fed a seagull an alka-seltzer tab, her entire family's stomach exploded. two out of five sentences in this paragraph are true.

then m and manya fed me banana soup in alexandria, while hero watered her little brother. we talked about buttonless pants and other life events.

then i got discombobulated driving home and then stuck in traffic on the highway. i thought i might die of my dreamstate.

then i met my dad at the baseball game, and it was one hundred degrees. i drank a li'l hug and observed no children with leukemia. when everyone was booing this one pitcher named danny, my dad yelled, "c'mon danny!" i think he would not have yelled something loudly at a baseball game until the last couple of years. turns out most catchers wear pads under their butts, but not all umpires touch the catchers' backs very gently in a way that makes one think of gardening, baby birds, or byzantine saints. or porn. who knew?!

now i will try to decide whether i should eat a banana or take a nap, or whether i should post such a journal thing on my emo log. then i will realize that if i tried to be witty right now i would faint onto piles of cats.

bill bender, but not my bill bender, but strangely appropriate to larger cowboy scheme grandes: