Thoughts While Sitting on the Deck

So I’m sitting on the deck at 7:30 on a Friday night. It’s nice outside, probably about 70 degrees. I have about 8 ounces of vodka in my XL cup from McDonalds. There’s cranberry juice and ice in it too, incase you were wondering. I’ve spent so much time (and money) at the bar lately that they might as well have a “Customer of the Month” plaque on the wall with my picture on it. Holding a pitcher of beer, of course. I haven’t missed a day in quite some time now, except for Sundays when they aren’t open. Bastards. So I figured I’d spend some quality time with my minuscule internet fan base. Not that my fans are minuscule (ehem), just small in number.

I read five blogs every day. There’s Everything is wrong with me by Jason Mulgrew, Clublife by The Doorman, The Diary of Third and Long by Swandad, Diarrhea of the Mouth by the Renter, and Drunk and Single in Oxford by Shandoll (whenever she gets around to posting). And you know what? I get disappointed when I click on their blogs and there isn’t anything new to read. Not just disappointed, a little upset. Kind of like “What, they don’t care about me any more and haven’t posted anything?” I know, kind of sick and demented, right? That’s why I’m out here sitting on the deck. I want you to have something fresh and entertaining to read the next time you go to this site. Not that my writing is fresh and entertaining, well, maybe entertaining, but stories of me taking shits (3 times today) isn’t all that fresh unless you are there to witness it (survival rate is 50/50). I don’t really have anything of substance for you, just voicing my thoughts and feelings for the readers. I love and care about you guys, I really do. Oh, and the blog emails have reached a total of ten now, still only be two people but still, TEN!!! Swandad, the Renter, and the FA all know my personal email but all I get from them is hate mail (Renter), love/lust mail (FA), and scratch-off lottery ticket winning tickets (Swandad). Emails, emails, emails, keep‘em coming.

Which brings me to the topic of the day. I’m going to guess that I’m in a very small percentile of people (like .001%) who play games on their cell phones more than they actually talk on it. I think I had 80 minutes used on my last phone bill. There might have been 40 text messages, too. I spend 10 minutes on my phone every time I poop (and if you know me I can’t poop in less than 10 minutes). I pooped three times today. That’s 30 minutes I was playing games on my cell phone just today. You see, I’ve gotten into pool in the last six months. My favorite bartender is a big pool player and he has shown me how to do a lot of things on the pool table. My cell phone has a pretty cool pool game on it. Granted it’s just a trial version and you never get to hit the eight ball in because they want you to buy the game for a monthly fee. Now that I think about it, $4 or $5 a month wouldn’t be that bad considering how much I play it. But then again, I don’t have a data package on my phone so I kind of doubt that I could even download it. But there you have it, 80 minutes of talking on the phone and 900 minutes playing pool every month. And no, I’m not some dork who doesn’t have any friends or anything like that. My friends know that I don’t talk on the phone much and don’t even bother calling me. Well, except for the FA, but I swear he’s a little light on his feet so that explains a LOT of things. My friends know where to find me if they want to chat. If they need something important from me they’ll call, but if it’s just general chit chat they know what to do. Meet me at the bar and have some drinks because I’m not the talkative when I’m sober.