Am.

Moderately not sober.

Ergo, perfect time for an entry. Over the course of travelling hills, heather-meadowed fields and various climes of the psyche, I've found out that summer here is like summer in LA: hot, hyper, sticky. Would that one's sex life possessed these characteristics. Of course, by one, I mean me.

The bullshit has dropped off precipitously. My 2nd experiment is done and, from what the data look like on excel tables, I might actually HAVE something--again! This has prompted me to think I've really stumbled onto something. As opposed to the drunken fumblings of wayward youths in the dark, clutching breast and beer in delightful moaning whispers, orange flourescent light peering through a snow-covered obelisk of glass. Yes, we have graduated from mild groping to full fuck contact science! All praise the monkeys that be, for they are small, occasionally bitchy, but overall rather tolerant to helping me with my pursuit of knowledge.

You know you want to praise the monkey.

So work is good. I'm not worried. And even my undergrads--yes, even the flaky one--are doing decently. I've got a meeting this friday to discuss the results that I've divined so far. That means doing some behavioral coding from tapes tomorrow, but since I have no experiment stuff that's really all I have. Well that and making excel tables. And doing some statistical analyses. Ok so most of tomorrow will take up the same amount of time as an experiment--but I'm used to that, and I can probably do most of it from a cafe.

There is nothing that whets the edge-blade of work quite like a cafe with decent indie music and a pineapple-mango smoothie. It is Fuck in a glass. A cold, brain-freezing fuck mind you, but haven't we all had that on those not so proud nights? Christ (and half a dorm population scattered around the world) knows I have. Good tongue action, though, gotta admit.

Un-fucking-related entirely. My advisor gave me the green light to take time off. In fact, he encouraged it. Further in fact, he said I should take off even MORE than a week. This gave me pause and I evinced one of those 'whoa...I just ate something weird while drunk' faces. But at the least I will take a week off sometime in august to visit one of my best friends--a rather attractive, sexy one of my best friends. I figure that this trip will involve a massive amount of photography, and doing the NYC thing--which was fucking awesome the first time. Who knows what else. Mostly I'm just looking forward to seeing my friend and snuggling with someone.

C'mon, admit it: my ass needs that. This is the same guy who almost always pulls out his main lab key when he's trying to get into the front door of his apartment complex. And no: I'm not giving more detail about it. I got enough shit from people the last time a female was involved.

And as for more great stuff, I went to open mic tonight (and hence the reason I'm not sober). Xtian and I split a pitcher of oatmeal stout, that yummy, yummy brew of only 5 bucks. The bands were good tonight: the profits, some dude who ripped ass on at the blues guitar, a black dude who was absolutely phenomenal at doing Ray Charles' 'What a wonderful world' (with the warble and everthing), the completely out to galaxy 9 white completely extraverted spiritualist who always gets pissed off at the audience for not getting him...just a bevy of decent to fantastic artists.

We were later joined by Xtian's g/f, Jenni, and a friend of theirs. Mostly we shot the breeze about their home town of Chippiwahuh Falls. Apparently it's pregnant teen capital of America. I mean come on: what else can you do in rural America except work, shoot shit, fuck, and drink? Well...ok...there is Beer-mington, but that's still drinking.

So I got my social on, rather than my Icewind Dale 2 on. That was a hard choice, actually--proving once again that, at heart, I'm just a flaming geek. That and apparently my hair has decided to do an early Meg Ryan whoosh out to the sides deal. I haven't cut the bastard in a year, so I guess that's bound to happen.

The only forseeable problem right now is that I want to eat something. I could go and get mexican...but I have a silly reason why I haven't. See, I had half a pitcher of beer. That should be more than enough calories for the rest of the evening. Plus I don't eat anything in the evenings anyway, so really this feeling is just the beer saying: "Ojale, fucker! Get me some homies in this shit!" Because beer just talks like it's a stereotypical young mexican dude.

So yeah, little torn about exceeding usual caloric intake. A little pathetic, I grant you, but meh.

Noone is on to yak with so I'm gonna get my geek on. Take care.

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