Lost and Found

Two months ago, I was celebrating my 22nd birthday with friends and catching up with my sister of elder years. Two months ago, I was preparing to leave a job (which I liked), a paycheck (which was healthy) and coworkers (who I enjoyed) for a 15 month stint of classes (not a fair trade). Two months ago, I realized that I didn't update my blog near as much as I should and that I'd get back to writing almost every week.

That was two months ago.

Oops. But fear not my faithful readers, I've returned. . . . and I promise to make it up to you. In the spirit of my favorite sports writer, I have something special planned for Saturday evening. Meanwhile, here's the summarized news and notes from the past 57 days. For the sake of entertainment, I'll skip the small stuff (finished work, started school, etc.) and get right to the gooey caramel center:

- To the possible detriment of my grades and any sort of social life, I now have my very own pool table. I had hoped to get a table sometime after graduation, but that won't be necessary anymore. The table was a birthday present from my mom, but with an unfortunate catch: the guy we were getting it from was an absolute tool. It took an infinite number of phone calls and countless cross-state trips to gather all the pieces, and another few days to assemble and level. We also needed to find a spot to put the table, and since the basement was the most obvious choice, that meant getting dirty and cleaning the place up.

The result? The space under our house is no longer a dingy cellar, but an actual living space complete with lighting, couches, TV, stereo, weight bench and dartboard, with the Brunswick table as the centerpiece. Being able to shoot around with friends in the comfort of our own house without having to make a trip to campus or worry about splitting table time with other people is great. Without a doubt, the best birthday present ever.

- Editor's Note: Previously in this space, I wrote about something going on in our house between two of my housemates and its effect on the rest of us. I kept the segment short and sweet, avoided telling a laundry list of possible stories, and felt that I was only divulging in text what should be fairly common knowledge to the parties involved. As it turns out, certain individuals didn't take kindly to my take on the situation or (more importantly) my willingness to share my opinions in a public forum such as this. Anger was vented, emails were sent, and people were confronted (well, not face to face. . . . oh, never mind).

For that reason, I'm removing the piece from this entry. To friends and family who may have found the story interesting, I apologize. As I've stated numerous times in the past, I keep a blog to share my stories and opinions with people I know. This blog also acts like a sort of psychologist in that I can vent and talk and ramble for the sake of clearing my mind and gathering my thoughts. At the same time, I don't want to permanently burn bridges or alienate friends, so at the request of one (on behalf of the other), I'll bite the bullet on this one and sacrifice my integrity temporarily. Frankly, I still feel as though it's my right to say what I want, just as it's anyones right to do so. But regardless . . . .

Thank God we have a pool table to escape to.

- While all this household drama was going on, I realized that I don't bust balls anymore. In fact, no one in the house does anymore, which I think goes a long way towards explaining all the tension in the house. Guys need to bust balls. We need to regulate friends, kick them when their down, mock them when they fall, laugh at their follies and use them as a punchline. By constantly clearing the air, frustrations are unable to stew and turn into genuine gripes, which inevitably lead to conflict (if you don't believe me, just look at how shrew women are). So from here on out, I'm getting back to my roots and dishing out what people deserve.

- Near the end of March, it was decided that a casino trip would happen in honor of Jay's birthday. It turned out to be quite the event as the honorable Brett Bradley made his way up from Kentucky for the venture. With a mixture of friends of old and new, we headed down the expressway to the Borgata for a full day of poker. After a few hours of cold cards and bad situations, I was already down more than $250, but since I knew that we came for the long haul I ponied up and was able to get myself out of the red and into the green. In fact, of the five of us who stayed late and played long, all of us left with more money than we came with. More importantly, it was a fun trip with friends we hadn't seen in far too long.

- Second Editor's Note: It was also asked that I remove this section as well. Again, I was asked not by the person who was offended but instead by someone on their behalf (gee, does anyone else notice a pattern here? And yes, I'm being snide on purpose , sue me). However, the story is still a good one worth telling, so only the names and relationships have been changed. Please, enjoy:

Everyone knows that I happen to live near Oz, but that Dorthy is the only one I live with. There is another female though, Glinda, that I happen to know. In my opinion, she's quite the bitch. She refuses to talk to anyone, won't say hello and has never gone out with the rest of the group. Everyone just attributes this to being shy, but I'm a firm believer that she's a selfish snob who feels that she doesn't need to interact with people she feels are beneath her.

So you can imagine my surprise when, two weeks ago, she invited Sundje, Jason and myself to come down to the Emerald City to help celebrate the birthday of one of her friends. We were too stunned to say no. Now here's where the story gets interesting. Glinda has been like an unattainable object of desire for Sundje and he has tried many times in the last few years to get something going with her. While she has let him in as a friend, she's also stopped it from going any further.

Well as it turns out, alcohol unleashes the little party girl inside her. I had heard from Dorothy that Glinda liked to go out to clubs, get smashed, and make out with any guy she can find, but I never really bought into it. . . . at least until I saw it with my own eyes. From kissing her girlfriends to dancing on bars to grinding (and eventually making out) with Sundje, it was a side of Glinda that I totally didn't believe existed. Her coming out party definitely capped off an interesting and exciting weekend that also featured a very successful party at our house the following night.

That's all I got until tomorrow. . . . er. . . . later today (oh no 2am).