Marc
Good news to report: my TAB key isn't in fact dead, but it's seriously messed up and I don't quite know how to fix it. See, it doesn't work like it used to. It only changes which particular program I'm using at any given time (i.e. MP3 player, internet, Microsoft Word, etc.). I don't know how to fix it, so I guess I'll just have to live with it.
Tall Ben just left to go get beer, which is a good thing. Hopefully, tonights excursion into the Fort Collins night life will be a tad more invigorating than last nights. We went to his place of employment, this half hippy/half rock bar called Avo's, and got drinks. I got the usual (Bud Light bottle), and he got the Easy Street brew draft, or something to that effect. Then, the big plan was to set up at the fusball table and play until the sun came up. I put in the first fifty cents and took out the first ball. Five seconds later, I had already scored and was looking forward to a shutout 5-0 victory. Little did I know that the machine had stiffed us, and that first ball was the only ball that it was going to cough up. So, we did the logical thing, and shoved fifty more cents down the throat of the machine. Two balls popped out this time. We decided to make the most of a trying situation and played them anyways. I scored twice, quite quickly, and thus the long night of fusball was over. Things went downhill from there. I always look forward to a good game against Tall Ben. We're very competitive friends. It goes all the way back to when we played in different bands in high school. Believe me, we were close friends, but we also both had egos (his was justified because he can play the shit out of the guitar, and I can merely bang away at it). Either way, I won 3-0 last night. So, I've got to be happy about that.
The plan for tonight is roughly the same. Tall Ben's got to work for a little while making vegetarian pizzas, or something like that. Like I said, hippies frequent the place. I'm just going to chill and drink, and try and piece together where the remaining 9 fusball's went to. Hopefully, I'll be able to track them down, and kick his ass again.
In other news, email was received from a mystery person, most likely Valentine Girl, asking if I was ready to play the game. I said, "sure". But, upon much thought and deliberation, I've come back to my original conclusion that this is probably just some dude (more than likely a close friend, or bandmate, or roommate, or any combination of the three) messing with me. I've always been a realist, and in reality, most of the dudes that I know are way better looking than me. Way more outgoing (except for Zach), and way more likely to score some type of mystery admirer. I know it sounds really dumb, and absurdly self-destructive to think that way, but I've got to be real with myself. That's just the way it's always been (with the exception of when I was 16, it was a good year).
So, that's pretty much it for today. There might be a drunken blog up later, if I can still see straight. I usually end up drinking pints by the end of the night here, which seriously affects my ability to judge me cutoff line.
"You've got a cutoff line? Wimp."
Thanks. Thanks for that. I have a cutoff line. When the room starts to spin, and I can't peacefully lie down and pass out, that's when I put the bottle down.
Good news to report: my TAB key isn't in fact dead, but it's seriously messed up and I don't quite know how to fix it. See, it doesn't work like it used to. It only changes which particular program I'm using at any given time (i.e. MP3 player, internet, Microsoft Word, etc.). I don't know how to fix it, so I guess I'll just have to live with it.
Tall Ben just left to go get beer, which is a good thing. Hopefully, tonights excursion into the Fort Collins night life will be a tad more invigorating than last nights. We went to his place of employment, this half hippy/half rock bar called Avo's, and got drinks. I got the usual (Bud Light bottle), and he got the Easy Street brew draft, or something to that effect. Then, the big plan was to set up at the fusball table and play until the sun came up. I put in the first fifty cents and took out the first ball. Five seconds later, I had already scored and was looking forward to a shutout 5-0 victory. Little did I know that the machine had stiffed us, and that first ball was the only ball that it was going to cough up. So, we did the logical thing, and shoved fifty more cents down the throat of the machine. Two balls popped out this time. We decided to make the most of a trying situation and played them anyways. I scored twice, quite quickly, and thus the long night of fusball was over. Things went downhill from there. I always look forward to a good game against Tall Ben. We're very competitive friends. It goes all the way back to when we played in different bands in high school. Believe me, we were close friends, but we also both had egos (his was justified because he can play the shit out of the guitar, and I can merely bang away at it). Either way, I won 3-0 last night. So, I've got to be happy about that.
The plan for tonight is roughly the same. Tall Ben's got to work for a little while making vegetarian pizzas, or something like that. Like I said, hippies frequent the place. I'm just going to chill and drink, and try and piece together where the remaining 9 fusball's went to. Hopefully, I'll be able to track them down, and kick his ass again.
In other news, email was received from a mystery person, most likely Valentine Girl, asking if I was ready to play the game. I said, "sure". But, upon much thought and deliberation, I've come back to my original conclusion that this is probably just some dude (more than likely a close friend, or bandmate, or roommate, or any combination of the three) messing with me. I've always been a realist, and in reality, most of the dudes that I know are way better looking than me. Way more outgoing (except for Zach), and way more likely to score some type of mystery admirer. I know it sounds really dumb, and absurdly self-destructive to think that way, but I've got to be real with myself. That's just the way it's always been (with the exception of when I was 16, it was a good year).
So, that's pretty much it for today. There might be a drunken blog up later, if I can still see straight. I usually end up drinking pints by the end of the night here, which seriously affects my ability to judge me cutoff line.
"You've got a cutoff line? Wimp."
Thanks. Thanks for that. I have a cutoff line. When the room starts to spin, and I can't peacefully lie down and pass out, that's when I put the bottle down.
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