I woke up at 8am that morning. I'd just gone to bed at 4:30. Somehow I felt jim dandy--but I wouldn't stand for waking up so early.

And I slept.

Sometime around noon (much better), I awoke and felt bleh. I had a mild hangover. I've had two in my entire life, which is bizarre considering I don't chug water.

I was pretty useless until 2:30pm or so. Somehow moving around began to sound like a good idea, and I started being productive. I would've kicked myself in the ass if I hadn't, since I'd specially gotten that day off to get my car repaired--well, that and so I wouldn't get blamed if anything spontaneously exploded at the lab.

First off was climbing up to the social science building. I'd done this the day before to hunt down the ethnography library. In it lay a svelt book of 130 pages, containing the secrets to doing even more badass statistical models. I need/needed to learn it in order to better analyze some of these data sets my advisor gives me.

The only pain in the ass with this errand is that it's a part of the old campus. And the old campus is on a giant hill. I'm not completely out of shape, but 93 degrees makes doing anything outside a mofo. And so I re-found the place and trundled down its bone-quiet hallways. I found the book after some asking and began to read. The Bird was right: this was some phenomenally brilliant shit. It seemed to be written for someone just like me: someone who'd paid attention in class. I can't say the same for alot of other grads. Then again, I can say that I have an obsessional love affair with applied math. I just do. Wide hips, personalities which only catch on fire occasionally, and statistics.

Having gotten my fill, I decided to go back to my apartment, climb into the death box known as my car, and drive to the place I usually get it serviced.

I know these guys. Gotten alot of work done there. It isn't cheap, but I know it's done well. Same can't be said for dealership maintenance. I'd gone to get the thing serviced because, whenever I brake or coast, there's this odd whirring sound I'd only noticed recently. Since I wanna drive to Michigan for at least a weekend, seemed like something good to take care of.

At first the guy thought my transmission was fucked. Well it had been a year ago when I was driving cross-country here. For some odd reason it hasn't come up since, not even the trip to and from Detroit. But no, I'd had the transmission serviced. Later on he sold me on getting my fuel system cleaned out. I thought it's 60 bucks, probably needs it, why not. Air filter? Yeah, he definetely agreed with me. Oil change? Agreed also, especially that I was using the 'my car is a senior citizen' oil variety.

So after waiting awhile, getting the car done, and still having that odd whirring sound (but better gas mileage), I parked and waited. Soon there would be more drinking. Carolyn and her husband were having a random party. So the next four hours disappeared into some writing.

When it got time to drive to the party, I showed up on-time, as always. And as I looked through the front door and beyond into a kitchen, I realized: I didn't recognize a single fucking person there.

Some of you may not at all be bothered by this. Some of you might actually think, "Cool!" I am not some people. I expediently walked back down the porch step, flipped open my cell-phone, and did a great imitation of text messaging people for 10 minutes. I said hi to some folks. Finally, having had my 'I'm a big pussy' moment, I decided to go on in.

Whoosh.

And there was Carolyn, looking chipper and bright as always. She seemed pleased to see me. Guess that was a good sign I was in the right house. The address on a piece of paper helped too. Carolyn then introduced me around. Well, she introduced me to the two people nearest me. To my chagrin, gentle dear loving observant erotically condescending reader, they were both females. They were both young females. They were both drop-dead gorgeous, 'you can't be real' females.

And so I gave socializing my best shot. The exceptionally hot blonde in tight-fitting black spaghetti strap halter top accoutrement smiled, said hello, bantered a bit, and buggered off. Leah, the slightly less intimidatingly gorgeous one, told me that she'd heard stories about grad students being wild. What witty thing I said must have sounded more witty in my head, since after 3 minutes that sorta kinda died too.

I suck at introductions, but I tried.

I also tried keeping my composure around this vast white bevy of people who seemed to all know one another. The keg was in the bathtub, Carolyn mentioned. It was bud lite, she mentioned. Being an effete left-of-center coffee-swilling frou frou bastard, I scoffed at the idea. Bud fucking lite. Nigga please. But I needed to take this edge off with a sand-blaster, maybe a sledgehammer. And so I did the deed.

For the first 25 minutes, it was awkward. Oh ye gods it was awkward. I watched halter top girl bopping to music and kicking ass at Euchre with Leah. The men, they were dying. Around this time a guy introduced himself. Must have taken pity. I was glad and accepted it gracefully. Naturally my work came up, and naturally he asked after my monkeys. It's a great ice breaker, you know: "Yeah, I work in a building with over 500 monkeys. It's three stories tall. No really! Did you know monkey chow actually smells kinda like Cracklin' Oat Bran?" And somehow, Carolyn and another dude joined in. Conversation was had. The burden of having to be interesting to a complete stranger was slightly gone. Slightly.

But later on the usual troupe of party go'ers came. Bryan was there, of course, my best friend around these here parts. Katie and Dan also showed up, Dan with his well-mannered near Canadian (he is from Maine) ways, and Katie with her mischieviously cutting wit and dimpled smile. You'd have to see to believe. I have dimples but this woman puts me to shame. Later on there was the loquascious and vaguely Uma Thurman-esque Tat, shy but sweet southern Lindsay, Lindsay's friend of the revealing blouse from the night before (whom I shall call Gentle Foghorn from now on). There may have been a few other party regulars. Xtian wasn't because, apparently, he and his girlfriend had gone Splitsville a few days prior. Hearts mend best alone.

Lemme see, highlights:

*A dude that looked like a midwest version of George Clooney kept taking a passionate interest in Bryan's shirt. It read: "I race lawnmowers". It had a picture of a John Deere looking thing on it. This started the first of several heated conversations that night. Bryan defended himself by describing how incredibly tricked out he could make a racing lawnmower. Midwest George, whose name was Tom I think, said Bryan was fucking awesome and gave him many props. Later on, Tom started getting in Bryan's face about the shirt. You know, in that drunk belligerent way. He got in Bryan's face and space, pushed him at one point, and caused an episode.

The episode played out thus: Bryan got into that 'not gonna talk to anyone, leave me alone' sorta space. I touched his shoulder wondering what was up. Just a slight headshake while people pressed around him drinking their thoughts away. Later on, him, Dan, and an engineer dude that worked with Carolyn's husband were all in the backyard. I thought this odd. I'd gone a wanderin' since houses full of people eventually kinda unnerve me. I wanted air. I also wanted to see black halter top girl.

I haven't had sex in months, cut me slack.

So Bryan was outside and not wanting to go back in because of the belligerent drunk. I played courier and told Carolyn. Later on, I happened to be standing outside a door when she and a friend popped out. And I got swept into a conversation about the situation, how she didn't know how to deal with it since she really liked the guy's wife, etc. etc. I played messenger more. I like harmony. I also hate being bored at parties. Eventually the guy left, people entered back in, and yeah.

*People with children came to the party. Naturally everyone was held in rapt fascination by this. In particular, a little girl of about 4-5 and a dude were playing tug-tug with some shawl thing. This claimed the hearts of everyone present. I analyzed the situation and concluded that people were: 1) Sharing in the collective experience of being near or at the 'need to fuck and make kids' stage of life; 2) The cultural emphasis on gushingly, embarassingly fawning over the young. I think #2 is good because we really need less serial killers and beat-at-home moms.

So that shit annoyed me because of the screaming. Spent alot of time in the backyard.

*Toward the end of the night, this thick hulk of a dude started challenging people to arm-wrestling. He wore a football jersey, was covered in a thin layer of grime and dirt, talked like you might expect him to, and had a good disposition about him like you might not expect. Dan beat him consistently. Bryan tried and, I think, failed. I went outside when, in a fit of drunken giggles, the guy slapped me on the shoulder and suggested I was coming up soon.

*After the party died, I drove Bryan, Katie, and Dan to their respective house/apartment/living things. During the drive, one of them suggested getting breakfast. "Now?" I asked in a confused voice. This amused people. No, it'd be tomorrow. I thought that was nice for them, to be planning to eat out and all. They decided on a time.

Then, the odd part: "So does that time work for you, [name]?"

I honestly didn't think they were including me in the thing. I felt honored and like I'd actually achieved some sort of social recognition beyond Beer and Liquor acquiantanceship. Bryan would tell me later in the car--or was it before?--that alot of the usual crowd liked me, and noone openly disliked my ass. It's a nice thought that the feeling is mutual. Unexpected, but I trust Bryan.

And finally, friday ended.

But there was still one more night of drunkery to be had...

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