Monday was work stuff, more writing, more pleasant yakking that didn't involve therapy. More energy drinks, too.

But Tuesday, tuesday does stand out in my head. Bryan had sent some emails around about him having a b-day drinking fest at German House of Booze. This was the magical building of lagers and baked potato skins where we got fucked the fuck up last semester. Quite possibly the best night out I've ever had, still. So I thought, "hey, I'm mostly over my flu, I'm not contagious, I wanna drink and party, hell yeah."

So after trapsing along the lake front and looking into the keening quiet lights of the night, I got there exactly on time. Bryan and his girlfriend were parked outside, sipping hoppy piss-colored goodness. I sat down and we talked about inconsequential fun shit, albeit kinda haltingly. Eventually the waitress came around, decked in german festive dress whatnot. Ye gods what an amazing gem of a face, the sort museums should exhibit for the depth and beauty of their symmetry.

I ordered a dark ale and joined the ranks.

Pretty soon after, Bryan's g-friend wanted to move inside so the bugs wouldn't suck up all our beer. I guess it must've been the bugs putting a damper on conversation. After that she and I were talking about my favorite HBO series, that sweet mish-mash of David Lynch and Stephen King strung up in all its fucked up abstractions. Sweet, sweet carnival of good and evil, yes. I hadn't ever found people who were into the show as much as I was, and neither of them had seen the 2nd season. I am coveting that 2nd season somehow, on DVD or otherwise.

In short order, 30 minutes or so after 9, people started to rove in. Alot of the same people at David and Dan's party came. I'd introduce you, but I see 'em sparingly enough so that you probably wouldn't recognize them next time. There were the usual party-goers, though, like Tat, Lindsay, Jess, Katie, and a mess of others.

I'll make this short and sweet: I came, I drank out of 2-litre glass boots of beer, I got fucked up.

I got enough beer and ale in me to the point where I was having problems making coherent sense of anything. To the point where I was concentrating on sounding articulate and not mashing my words together. To the point where when I finally said goodnight and had the round of goodbyes, I walked home mostly talking to myself, sure as hell not walking straight or talking straight. I gave encouragements, commented on everything I saw, and quite soundly hit my bed sans clothes and got to sleep in about a minute.

I do that when I'm drunk. Wish I could put it in a bottle and sell it. Another type of bottle. You know what I mean.

It was Wednesday. Nothing particularly great happened then except behavioral testing another monkey. That went smooth. No hang-over.

Thursday was just as smooth too. I can't use that monkey since unfortunately he had a rash I hadn't noticed, and his immune system was strangely very active. Don't worry, it happens occasionally and he's being well taken care of.

The science thing is going just fine, and leaves me plenty of time at night to do whatever.

And that whatever has mostly been writing like a fiend, going out to these party extravaganzas, getting to know new friends, catching up with old ones, and generally enjoying socializing.

Now that I'm feeling pretty decent I want to also take up night photography again. I've still got the same old digital camera as always, but I've been wanting to get back into the art and I don't have the cash to afford the one I want. 1,500 bucks: why can't semi-professional cameras get more cheap? Wait, I know why: Canon cameras don't really ever get more cheap.

I'd invest in a manual camera, but I may as well be a toddler with a .38 revolver trying to defend the Earth against patches of stinky air.

And that all brings us to this minute, sitting at I, Coffee near around my lab. I don't have to go in tomorrow, and obviously not on saturday or sunday..so I've got a stretch of Big Easy time on my hands.

Not too bad; not too bad at all.

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