Marc
The Pad.
I stalked Rye (not The Ry) down an interstate exit today as I saw her fly past me. Damn. She was flying in that jeep. Must've been windy as hell. Anywho, that was about 9:00 this morning on the return drive home from the airport. I can't believe I fell asleep again last night at eight o'clock and was up at four. Christ. What the hell's wrong with me? It's good to be back though. Got me some Zorba's, got me tires rotated, thought about getting me oil changed, and got some plans to go party at Rick's new place in the city tomorrow night. So, my weekend will look something like this on a map:
Friday: Drive from Chicago to Normal
Saturday: Drive from Normal to Chicago
Sunday: Drive from Chicago to Normal
Monday: Drive from Normal to Chicago
Pretty stupid, huh? Que-ev. I'm okay with it. It's all in the name of partying. I was thinking of going to that Rolling Thunder thing, too, but I think I'm going to have to decline. Sorry boys. Not down on the volunteering tip. Don't have that much of the day to waste. Besides, there's a possibility I may not make it back for the damn thing anyways. I might be stuck in (gasp!) San Francisco on Friday night. Chances are slim. But chances are there. If I am, I'm going to hit up Gilman St. Last time I was there I couldn't find the damn place. What gives?
So, it's off to a nap for me, hopefully. It's six pm and I've only been up for something like fourteen hours. Damn, I was getting ready for bed at this point last night. Ick.
Happy birthday, Scooter. I hope you're going to Rick's tomorrow. Call me and I may be able to pick you up. I'm scuttling my ass all over the suburbs. Word?
Word.
The Pad.
I stalked Rye (not The Ry) down an interstate exit today as I saw her fly past me. Damn. She was flying in that jeep. Must've been windy as hell. Anywho, that was about 9:00 this morning on the return drive home from the airport. I can't believe I fell asleep again last night at eight o'clock and was up at four. Christ. What the hell's wrong with me? It's good to be back though. Got me some Zorba's, got me tires rotated, thought about getting me oil changed, and got some plans to go party at Rick's new place in the city tomorrow night. So, my weekend will look something like this on a map:
Friday: Drive from Chicago to Normal
Saturday: Drive from Normal to Chicago
Sunday: Drive from Chicago to Normal
Monday: Drive from Normal to Chicago
Pretty stupid, huh? Que-ev. I'm okay with it. It's all in the name of partying. I was thinking of going to that Rolling Thunder thing, too, but I think I'm going to have to decline. Sorry boys. Not down on the volunteering tip. Don't have that much of the day to waste. Besides, there's a possibility I may not make it back for the damn thing anyways. I might be stuck in (gasp!) San Francisco on Friday night. Chances are slim. But chances are there. If I am, I'm going to hit up Gilman St. Last time I was there I couldn't find the damn place. What gives?
So, it's off to a nap for me, hopefully. It's six pm and I've only been up for something like fourteen hours. Damn, I was getting ready for bed at this point last night. Ick.
Happy birthday, Scooter. I hope you're going to Rick's tomorrow. Call me and I may be able to pick you up. I'm scuttling my ass all over the suburbs. Word?
Word.
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