Irritable Male Syndrome

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

This is one of the few recent color pictures of me...

This is one of the few recent color pictures of me where I don't look 9 kinds of retarded. Here I'm only a 5th level retard, though, which is something I'll take whenever I can.

This picture was take at Kenwood Park on the 4th, and there's a rumor that I was drinking a 3.2 Miller Lite, but those liars need to shut the fuck up and mind their own bees wax. (It was 3.2 Leinenkugel's Original and that was, like, a whole hour earlier, thank you very much)

Sigh. That's the abv limit the park department allows, which is pretty stupid considering that a full alcohol Lite is only 4.2 abv. But, we didn't want to have to pay an open container ticket should a prick of a park police officer happen upon our little shindig and decide that we were getting a little too crazy with our bocce ball, our eating of thoroughly and safely cooked meat products, and our lack of concern for the well-being of all 11 other people in the enormous park by not using our inside voices. Yes, I hang out with a bunch of party manimals.

One question before I go on; has anyone suffered from the "3.2 flu"? Is it a real thing, or are people just making it up? I ask because I felt fine the next day. Granted, I did take one of the biggest dumps of my adult life on the 5th(there was one when I was 2 that my mom still talks about to this day, that's how massive it was. Not that I remember it, I was only 2. I claim infantile amnesia), but I wouldn't necessarily call it a bad thing. In fact, that's just cool.

(You see, the great thing about that last paragraph is that you don't know if I'm giving slightly too much information, or if I'm just making shit up, literally.)

We'd originally planned on having a little picnic at Thomas Lowry(aka Seven Pools Park) up behind the Walker, but that was quickly nixed when we couldn't find anywhere to pee. True, there was always the man-made pools, but the sign clearly said "No Wading", and I usually heed a sign's advice over nature's calling. It also explains all my urinary tract infections, too.

If you'll notice for just one second, the shirt is clearly misspelled. It should say "Amsterdamn!", as in, "Damn, look at my chest in that shirt!". You'll also notice that I tend to buy my shirts in the Target boys department, but I'm not made of money, damn it, and sometimes you just have to make due with whatever $6.99 will buy. In this case, it's a medium.

Granted, my chest looks, well, like I'd just finished lifting, which I had(but it's not like that makes any difference), but would it kill me do some calve exercise every now and then? For fuck's sake. Or is it "For fucks sake."? I never know this type of shit. Regardless, for fucketh saketh, my legs are scrawny.

There was a time that I took a lot of pictures, but now? Not at all. I find my 2 year old camera cumbersome, and it's a pain in the ass to lug around with me wherever I go. Sure, I'll carry it around in my man-purse--errrr, backpack-- but taking it out and snapping pictures, that's a different story. And it's just slightly too big to fit in my pocket.

That last paragraph doesn't belong in this post.

I don't work this Friday night, and Molly is going to NYC (NYC? Get a rope.) which means that I am a free--yes, free!--man. But only for one night. When she gets back, I'm sure she'll put the kibosh on anything related to fun from here until Jesus comes back from the dead. Again.

Anyhow, my plan is to hit up the Macy's Day of Music at Peavey Plaza for The Hopefuls(whom I've never seen before, even though I've planned on going to each and every one of their last 15 shows, only to have the plans fall through every fucking time. Now that I say that, it'll rain, just you watch), maybe even stroll down to the festival formerly known as the Hennepin Ave Block Party. I don't know. Anything is possible for a free man in Minneapolis, right?

And by anything, I mean that I'll probably get super loaded during happy hour with Dawn, then drunkenly plod my way back to my apartment to sleep it off. At 9:15pm. Completely forgetting to see The Hopefuls yet again.


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