ok, I promise that this is the last post before the new site is up. It willbe a totally new system (my own, no more blogger)but should look exactly the same. Now the hard part is going to be formatting bloggerso that it will output some semblance of XML so I can move it into my database. Wishme luck, see you Monday!

So last night I found the proverbial key under the doormat. My car stereo wasn’t working because the battery had been disconnected. When the stereo loses power, the security system kicks in and requires a special code to unlock it. Expecting to have to go to the dealer with my sob story and info, I jack the unit so that I can get its serial number. After pulling it out of the dash, wouldn’t you know the security code was written right there on the back of the head unit. Which begs the question, why does it even have a security code in the first place?

You know what?
IT’S MY DAMN WEBSITE AND I’M GOING TO WRITE ABOUT WHATEVER I FEEL LIKE.
I’m not trying to intentionally hurt anyone’s feelings. just trust, please.
oh, and apparently since I’ve just lost what you think is my whole social life,girlfriend, whatever, I’ll have tons of time to continue pissing people off.

Guess who’s 22?
Happy Birthday to you, happy Birthday to you,
happy Birthday to Dawn, happy Birthday to you!

What better way to start the weekend than by rolling into Sea Isle with “in de ghetto” resounding from the drug dealer van. With the way Balady drives, you’d think we were traveling in an intercooled turbocharged Caravan. I’ll be hearing the sound of that horn in my nightmares. I guess I can’t really complain though cause I really appreciated her offering to drive. And I guess it’s also slightly hypocritical since I’ve been known to shout “drive it like you stole it!” from time to time in my 3000GT at double the speed limit.

So we arrive safely at Sea Izzle Inn and the first thing that I notice is that the beds are incredibly small. Remembering my last experience of sleeping two to a dorm bed, I immediately broke into a cold sweat. They used to make me argue like it was going out of style. I finally convinced myself that five girls and two small beds can’t be all that bad. In fact, small confining beds would actually be advantageous.

After getting settled, we went to some bar. I don’t remember the name, but all bars in Sea Isle should be aptly named “shards of broken glass on floor.” I’ve never really experienced this at bars in the philly area, but then again I’ve never seen so many drunks at one time in philadelphia. The worst was probably the two drunks that ended up in my bed saturday night. But I digress … In the midst of playing secret service agent (I guess a permutation on the Dad character that was born in Baltimore a few weeks ago) I picked up a broken bottle off the floor so my girls wouldn’t sever a toe. As I’m walking to the bar I’m having these bar fight scenes flash through my mind. You know, the kind where the guy breaks the bottle over the bar and impales someone with it. I’m getting so into this little fantasy that I actually hold the bottle up to some guy’s neck so that he would get out of the way. Thankfully the Ego stepped in, defeated the Id, lowered my arm, and stopped me from tearing through his flesh with razor sharp glass. Alas, I didn’t act quick enough though because I think the guy actually pissed his pants as he stood there like a deer in headlights.

Saturday was the usual beach stuff. Lay, run, nap. Saturday night remains confidential. G.W. insisted. Yes, that also means that I don’t want to talk about it. All I can say is that my small bed felt too big.

Sunday was fun. There were many lessons to be learned from Tricia. Being the resident drunk, she informed us that if you respect the Captain, the Captain will respect you. And while I didn’t quite notice, apparently mellonball test tube shots taste like Puma Sneakers. This was reiterated about 15 times or so by her repeated drinking. The funniest part was when she’d start to shoot another even before she was finished lamenting over the previous one. I also became the unnamed figure sitting on the cooler that existed solely to hand Trisha a bottle of booze when she needed it. “Boy! … get me the Captain” she’d exclaim as she beckoned for more toxicity. The whole afternoon was a little surreal since Tricia reminded me so much of this girl Lauren I used to know at school. Right down to the facial expressions. Oh, and I almost forgot to mention how much I love Balady when she drinks. Although I’ve never known her to hold back, she gets this brazen honesty about her that will definitely keep you in check.

Sunday night I carried a cooler around Sea Isle. Picture Navy SEAL training where they carry telephone poles on their shoulders, give them Superman powers, replace the pole with a cooler and then fill it with kryptonite … that was me. And then to top it off, Balady made fun of me when a guy double my size with a cooler half my size trotted by with catlike prowess.

Sunday after dinner it was just me, lesley and steph that went out. Lesley was such a good friend. How often does someone encourage you to get bombed and then offer to take care of you? For a guy, that’s probably one of the sweetest things a girl could do for you. So anyway, thanks Les. Steamroller picnic was great, I walked home with my eyes closed while Lesley led me like a blind man, and Balady said yes when I asked her if I got really bombed would she still call me superman.

more to finish later … time to go home. stay tuned for ruminations on the beach, the drive home, and other miscellaneous debauchery.

I was looking through a bunch of old pictures tonight and forgot that my brother was ghettofabulous.

Come to think of it, I guess alot of my stuff is uninspired :/ Maybe I should justget Balady to write my weekend updates from now on :) we’d all have alot more funaround here.

After the Reading Phillies game I hung out with Josh, Shana and some of her friends at ICE. I don’t know what it is with me and guys that can dance, but I’m literally mesmerized. I’m talking serious dancing, not ricky martin crap. There were these three guys that could move so well it was nothing short of artistic. It was like Darren’s Dance Grooves’ pop and lock routine on ecstasy. And I don’t understand why I’m the only one that’s amazed by all this. For some reason, out of all the clubs I’ve been to, I’ve never seen a girl dance like this. I think if I did, it would bring me to my knees. Like I’d literally fall to the floor. I don’t care who has it (lesley, michelle, Balady, gretchen, one of you) i’m coming over monday to do Darren’s Dance Grooves. The sad part is that I’m partly convinced that this can’t be taught. It’s something innate that you have to have built into you in order to move. My only consolation is that Shana assures me that the three guys were gay. Maybe it’s just one of the perks of being in The Club.
I also fell in love with my car tonight. Driving stick is slowly becoming second natureand I’m loving every minute of it. On the way home I was tearing around corners, droppinginto 3rd gear and pulling out at like 60 MPH. It wasn’t until I was 2/3 of the wayhome that I realized it was pouring rain. torrential downpour. I never even knew becausemy car was driving like the roads were bone dry. With the Lumina I used to use theantilock brakes like it was my job; with the 3000GT, I don’t even notice the rain.The only bad thing is that my racingtires can’t be used in the snow.
Lastly, I kinda missed someone that I wished I could be with tonight. something isn’tthe same without their company. Hopefully we’ll figure something out.

I’d be willing to bet I’m the only guy who polishes both the chrome exhaust tips on his car and the rings on his fingers. While in the process of going on a chrome-cleaning spree today, I realized that I have yet again blurred the line between masculinity and feminineness.
Anyway, speaking of cars (namely the one pictured below), should I paint it a deepblack cherry or a metallic charcoal grey? I’m leaning towards grey, but then againthe last time I had to choose between these two colors I chose the maroon cell phone.Oh and by the way, did I mention that my car is so damn fast? I never knew a 222HPV6 was that fast. Maybe its just that after years of driving the tank my perceptionof speed is a little off. Either way, it makes me happy :)

Gladly, I think I broke a streak this weekend. Not once did I have to endure Darude - Sandstorm or one of it’s many permutations. This includes (and I’m serious) the original mix, radio edit, Darude vs. Gigi D’Agostino - I’ll Fly With Sandstorm, Darude vs. J Lopez - Waiting for the Sandstorm, Darude vs. Daft Punk - One More Time In The Sandstorm, Darude vs. Future House - Be My Lover in the Sandstorm, Darude vs. Soulsearcher - Can’t Get Enough Sandstorm, and my favorite, Darude vs. DJ Aligator - Blow my Sandstorm Whistle. Sitting in the theater Friday night, (gasp! not drinking? you ask. Don’t worry, I took care of that beforehand. I reply.) I half expected the movie’s theme song to be Darude vs. Marvel Comics - Spiderman and Mary Jane Hookin Up in the Sandstorm.

And speaking of streaks, gladly this "sleeping anywhere but home on the weekends" routine continued ;) I probably could have driven home Saturday night (sadly my nickname has devolved from Dirty Kelso to Dad) but some opportunities are too sweet to pass up. Which reminds me, thank you Mrs. Cody for your hospitality. Your futons are both roomy and comfortable, although I still seem to have this problem with covers being stolen in the middle of the night.

Oh, and I have one quick shout-out (are shout-outs still cool?) … make that a "hot girl check-in" to Gretchen. Happy 24th Birthday! I have no idea what bar we were at (I have issues when It comes to places outside of my 25 mile radius safe-zone … apparently my head was spinning after Michelle separated me and the map of Baltimore two weekends ago) but I had a great time. Anyway, have an awesome birthday … may the wind always be at your back, and the sun upon your face and the winds of destiny carry you aloft to dance with the stars. (I stole that from Blow :) Too bad I couldn’t remember it at dinner in Baltimore.

Oh, one last thing (afterall, it is my site isn’t it?) Thanks to BaladyChristen for the gift. (the "Book of Sex") Deep down I realize that this is just one big hint because she knows I lack the skills of a true Jedi, but for now I’ll just continue down my path of conscience ignorance. Oh, and speaking of (assumed) ignorance, this weekend she taught me that to climb the "cute guy chain" you need to have these successive items: flowers, kitten, puppy, baby. I think Balady takes me for a fool and believes that I didn’t already know this. Of course I know this. I’m in touch. Some guys are really stupid though (the sex-having ones) and just don’t get it. If you don’t have sex on your team, you gots to find other ways of getting by. Thus, I have truly honed the Jedi skills of kindness and chivalry. Oh, and modesty also.

ps - when I interpose myself (like this) is it hard to follow what I’m saying?

Mike: Did you hear TReND’s planning a trip to the amusement park Cope Land?
Alan: I bet that’d be a good ride

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