Saturday, my friend Jake had his annual party at his house. Jake is the guy who runs the comic book shop I go to, and we get along great. It is one of the few parties that I am guaranteed to get wasted at, as Jake and his girlfriend are kind enough to let me sleep over. Anyways, pretty much the who point of this post was watching this one guy hit on this one girl, and the crap he was saying.
He was saying stuff like this:
"That movie had some of the best cinematography I have ever seen."
"My favorite composer is doing the score of that movie."
"I like that scarf on you, it makes you look like an aviator."
I just wanted to jump up and tell him, "Dude, you are so full of sh*t!" I didn't though. I held my tongue. I was pretty proud of myself. A few years ago I probably would have ripped him.
A dude picking up an acoustic guitar and doing a very neat version of Chubby Checker's "Let's Twist Again". I thought it was funny.
Talking to a kid who used to play college football at Utah State. He quit fairly early, because even at rinky-dink Utah State it was "no longer a game. It was a career."
The absolute lowlight was when I finally left Sunday morning. Apparently it was the day of the White Rock Lake marathon. I drove around for 45 minutes before I finally found a way out, and escaped. I tried north first, and then west. I knew east would be no good as that was the direction of White Rock Lake. I finally got headed south, and kept going south, while constantly looking to the west, and seeing I was still hemmed in. I finally made it to a highway and got home. It was not a fun drive. A fun night though.
NaNo, and NaNo Some More
1 week ago