What I Did This Week: The Clicking You're Hearing is the Sound of People Hitting the "Next Blog" Button
This week, I spent a large portion of my time in Bill's Garage. Both Tuesday and Wednesday nights, a group of friends watched American Idol in the comfort of recliners and lawn chairs, amongst band saws, work benches and lawn care equipment. There is something magical about the atmosphere of Bill's Garage. It's allure is inexplicable, I feel drawn to it's homey feel... and I've even considered the possibility of opening a bar decorated in the garage motif. It's comfortable, there's always a fridge stocked with beer, and something good on the television. Plus, you get to see some interesting dance moves. So it's been a great week from the standpoint of spending time with, and making new, friends.
I was invited to dinner with friends Mike and Paula, at Emily's place... and was treated to amazing lasagna, as Mike and I struggled in vain to remove adware and spyware from Emily's 'puter. If you have removal advice (other than running ad-aware) please share. In many instances, it helps to evoke the phrase WWRJD. (What Would Rick James Do?) Unfortunately, it appears Rick knew nothing about removing spyware.
Last weekend, my friend Tim and I treated ourselves to huge steaks/lobster at Mike Shannon's, and checked out the talent at Johnny's in Soulard. Another night, I went out for drinks and cigars with Gary, who reminded me that our birthdays are coming up and we need to plan a trip to somewhere with a beach and a bar.
Also this week, I had various appointments and meetings, the subjects of which would bore you to suicide.
This weekend, Courtney and I are hanging out and doing general father/daughter things. Those will include:
- Her general reassurances that she's not skipping school these days.
- Inquiries from a father, as to the origin of the dark marks on her neck.
- Her perfunctory excuses for the inutile mush that passes for her boyfriend's brain.
- Goofy faces/gestures made at one another to provoke raucous laughter.
- General childishness and the lack of maturity that is expected from a guy like me.