Smells Like...Victory

I'm a total facebook geek. And by that I don't mean someone who loves facebook, I mean someone who is on facebook but has no friends. I put out a profile 9 or 10 months ago and then got on with the business of never thinking about the site again, so now there's just a mostly empty profile out there proclaiming to all who would see it: Behold! I have no friends! Fortunately I make up for that by being a totally badass rastafarian pirate ninja in my profile pic. Line forms to the left, ladies!

I skipped out of work a little early on Friday to catch the marchout and practice. The band continues to look and sound better than I can ever recall it being in my day--I credit Hoover and his relentless oosing. Whatever that means. Afterward we headed out on a rare non-Monday-night Chili's excursion where, after a few generously comped beers, Ball and I engaged in an idiotic display of excess and pointless oneupmanship (read: pissing contest) which ultimately culminated in an $80 tip on a $25 meal. Overkill? Perhaps. But the important thing is that not a penny of it went to Carol.

Friday night we headed out to Oscar's with some alumni. It's a townie bar, but I enjoy the place more and more despite everyone else's relative indifference to it. It's got pool, foosball, cheap beer, no cover or ass-smell (cough, Bookmakers), it's never too crowded, and there's always some middle aged drunk people making fools of themselves. Unfortunately Ball was the only one with the sense to head home after that, and the rest of us went on to the Backer. I cannot stress this enough--it is never a good idea to go to the Backer. It might sound fun at the time, you might even have fun while you're there, but it is never worth the hangover, the temporary deafness, and above all the Backer Crud that destroys your pants, seeps into your pores, and eats your soul. No single shower, no matter how long, can cleanse you of Backer filth--it becomes a part of you. A very stanky part.

The game was great. Ahhhh, so relaxing. It was nice, especially after last weekend, to sit back and watch the Irish whoop some ass. I confess I was not a very good fan--I spent much of the game sitting down and yelled maybe thrice. But I enjoyed myself. We tailgated for a bit after the game and then headed out to the BrewCo with D-Day and the Nipples for beer, appetizers, and the mockery of our waitress, who seemed strangely unamused by our clever and wildly hilarious antics.

Sunday was a day of vegging out. I bought a couple video games, played SSX On Tour for a solid three hours, and then, in a testament to my disinterest in baseball, skipped out on game two to watch Final Destination 1 and 2 on USA. I think they were marketed as horror flicks, but I tell you they're comedic gold. I guess it's more than a little sick to laugh at the increasingly gruesome deaths of a bunch of movie teens, but the ways in which the Grim Reaper opts to off them are so outrageously convoluted that you can't help but smirk at the audacity of the writers. The teacher, for instance, dies when a leaky glass of vodka tragically and unfortunately drips into her computer monitor, causing it to explode and shoot large shards of glass into her throat, forcing her to then crawl to the kitchen for a towel to stem the bleeding, a towel which was tragically and unfortuntately draped over a set of steak knives, which of course tipped over causing a large butcher knife to tragically and unfortunately impale her through the chest--but don't worry! She didn't suffer long, because her leaky and untended gas stove ended up igniting--get this--the very bottle of vodka that tragically started the whole unfortunate ordeal, and her house blew up. Yeah, Mr. Death? I might have, you know, just given her a heart attack or something, but, I mean...I guess your way is good too.

I topped off the night by baking a cake for Lizett's birthday. Then I remembered Lizett lives 700 miles away. Then I ate the cake.

It was chocolately and delicious.