Savvy vet

The deets:
-a concert and post-party, everything's comp'd
-a 1 hour and 15 minute drive to and from
-2 guys: A Bolivian and a Greek. This means 1 gets to keep partying, and the other has to slow down so he's good to drive
-a coin-flip game at the beginning of the night to determine the above

The Bolivian flips the coin. He calls tails. The quarter lands. Tails up. Who wins? The Bolivian, right? Well apparently not in this game. The Greek proceeds to convince him that because Tails came up, he lost and therefore the Greek gets to keep partying into the night. Huh? There's zero sense in this argument. However that's exactly how the night played out. And the Bolivian just went along with it, kind as can be.

The kicker: the Bolivian was the one who hooked up the tix and post-party in the first place! Those wily Greeks.

I know you feel me (if you're a dude). Or maybe you don't

You walk into an empty one-hitter unisex bathroom and you discover that the seat was left down and doused in yellow pee droplets - as in a torrential downpour but with piss instead of acid rain. There may or may not also be a standalone urinal in there. And if there's not and all you went in there for was to pee (or pish as mom would say), then ordinarily you'd undoubtedly raise the seat with your shoe (or a paper towel or loads of T.P. if you have sandals on like I do 97% of the time) and do your thing. But then this thought strikes you: "What if I waltz outta this nasty boxed room and a lady is standing outside waiting to go next? Then she's gonna think I just did that damage on the seat!" 


I suppose I could just leave the seat up, but that kinda goes against my programming considering I lived with a chick post-college for several years and we shared 1 bathroom. Now you could clean up some other douche-bayg's pissy mess but that's eff'ing gross, or you could just leave said urine on said seat and simply risk walking out and getting a dirty look later on because of some previous assholamillo's dickiness. 


Stuck in a quandary. I'm just gonna stay in here til the bar closes.

Its a new day (just like Sting or Celine would say)

Today I joined the ranks of a new army, an army of adult soldiers who use baby wipes to finish the job. My first purchase was a medium size pack, 42 to be exact. I chose the hard shell plastic case instead of the resealable ziplocky bag because it just seemed a lot cleanlier that way. And isn't that the whole point of this market and purpose. Anyway so far so good. My form can still use some refining, but I just got a hot tip from a fellow wiper friend and I'm greatly looking forward to my next movement. I know people who say once you go flushable-wipe you never go back. I kinda get it now, already. Cheers to new beginnings...

Musings from a new friend. And she's right.

The deets:
-there was a party
-there was a deep-fryer
-there were drinks
-there was a volcano

I made a new friend that night that already knew other new friends of mine, and I met her sister too. When we met however, the evening was already long in the tooth and the volcano had erupted a few times. Here's the followup emails the next week:

ME: Ps I honestly have little recollection of our nightcap dealings. Things started turning brown right around that time. Hope I didn't offer up anything too inane nor insane. And if I did, what a helluva way to kick it off.

HER: Does this mean anything to you, 'fudgesicles are like frozen poop.' If you do remember, then you know my sister very well; and if it doesn't, maybe cut down on the boos because a line like that should never be blacked out.