zenexistence

OhaiCharlie! Yerbipolar!

Okay before I roll full steam ahead allow me to first address the fact that as of late I've been negligent of this site and of you. Yes, you, pretty bird. And do you know how I feel? Terrible and wracked with guilt.
But not racked with guilt.
Because ... ow.
I haven't been reading blogs or perusing forums or oogling the nekkid. I've been pretty much computer-free the last couple of weeks, minus the few minutes I can stand to sit it front of it before I fall into an exhausted slumber. I promise, PROMISE, to attempt to catch up and I'm sorry that I've been naughty.
Ahem.
AND GO!

First off, I want to wish a hearty happy birthday to my beloved Theodor Geisel.
You know him better as this fellow:



You're probably saying, "Hunh, Scotty? Some dude that humped a Cat in the Hat life-size plush?" And you would be correct, my friend!
Happy Day of Uteral Expulsion, Doc Seuss!

This weekend came and went in a frenzied blur of drinking, shenanigans, hellos to new friends and goodbyes to old.
I'm talking about my working at the opening weekend of tending bar at the Bay Area Renaissance Festival, of
course, and not some kind of average, run-of-the-mill weekend bender. Actually, the above culmination of descriptors would work equally tragically well for either but [for now] I'm sticking with it's use for the opening weekend, thank you very little.
I'm always reminded about personalities each opening weekend. little nuances I forget throughout the year when I work at my main job that has nothing to do with drunks and drinks:

1) If you approach the bar and say, "Gimme a beer", which naturally will lead to me asking you what kind and the response is, "Whatever ya got!" I'm probably going to get a tip.

2) If you walk up and immediately ask the price of the beer? I'm probably NOT getting a tip.

C) If you come up and attempt to blow me over with your extensive micro-brew knowledge, poo-pooing every beer I have as, "weak" or "too common"? I don't want your tip; I want you to go away and, more than likely, fall face first into the port-o-jon you're emptying your narcissistic bladder into, elitist turd.



So, the love of my life whom moved to Los Angeles six years ago after we broke up showed up at Faire Sunday afternoon. I'm still sifting through my feelings on this subject [and I expect them to be blog fodder in the near future, of course] but I have to admit they weren't as troublesome as they once might of been. We broke up badly but worked through that and have been friends, whom communicate frequently, for the last five of the six years. I didn't realize, though, how much I very missed her smile. The rest is kind of water under the bridge these days but the smile is still golden.



The recovery from the weekend on Monday went a little bit like this: wake up at 530am, roll the ole' bones into work, do charts for four hours, roll the ole' bones [hi cat!] out of work, go home, sleep, wake up, buy groceries, go back to sleep, wake up, eat, go back to sleep, wake up, work out, watch Firefly, go back to sleep, wake up, drink mucho agua, go back to sleep.
This is not what I would label a productive day by any stretch but it was a perfect recipe and I felt like a million dollars this morning ... well, minus the literal millions of dollars in monetary stability.



I wonder what it would be like to see a gillion naked people chillin' around a huge building shooting off mass magnums of champagne? Oh:



Random nugget: I hate Jimmy Buffet. I hate his songs. I hate the name of his band; the Coral Reefer Band -- oh, Jimmy, you witty, leathery fuck, we get that you named your band after pot. We do. We really, really do. But it's just fucking lame. I hate his smug sense of entitlement. I hate his flip-flops. I hate his shitty Landshark lime-already-in-it beer. As a result I pretty much hate all beach-bums in general.
Except for this lil' fella:



I want this:



But would it offer up enough support if I had this type of posture?



I actually meant to sit down during lunch and do a small blog update here yesterday but I was slammed. Stupid slammed. Barely long enough to grab something for lunch:







I have more updates on the whole gallbladder debacle but I'll address this in a blog tomorrow or Friday. Still working out options. I'm a little mentally run down right now, so I'd rather delve into that subject when I'm in better spirits.



Alright, I'm off to study for admissions testing. Can I get a "hell yeah"?



Eye <3 ewe,
Scotty

PS - Levee needs more love in this set. So good. Have you seen it yet? GoRIGHTnow. Srsly. Steamy