LIVE from (upstate) New York, it's SATURDAY NIGHT!

and what a wonderful night it is, folks. i am slightly inebriated. i say "slightly" cuz if i was "totally" i wouldn't have driven home, and i'd still be at the bar, which would suck because my new clothes would stink like stogies.

i was enjoying my millionth-consecutive evening alone in my apartment when it hit me that it was saturday. i've lost all weekly reference points, since my job (soon to be EX job) includes working weekends and nights. i don't go out much as it is, especially since my work friends are either 1. underage, or 2. assholes, and i don't really know anyone outside of work, so my nights revolve around the computer, tv, and watching the fish try desperately to escape their glass prison. but tonight was different. something lit a fire under my ass. or maybe it was just a small flame, but whatever it was, i decided to go out.

i went to my favorite bar, JP Mulligan's, in Fayetteville. i guess i can't really call it my favorite, since i don't like going to bars, but if i had a favorite bar, this would be the one. it's pretty swank and seems to attract people my age for the most part, and of course, the obligatory old people who think they are still 22. there was a band there tonight, and there was this 50 year old chick (read: "old woman") dancing with the damn band, like she was still a sorority slut who was trying to hook up with the lead singer. lady, go home. i'm not being sexist, cuz there were old men who didn't belong there either, but there's nothing that makes my eyes roll faster than some single, drunk chick who's old as my mom trying to act like hot shit. my god, if i'm still in bars trying to pick up chicks at that age, i hope i get run over by a freaking bread truck to end my misery.

but anyway, the band was okay, and the scene was too. i wasn't seeing the singles that i'd seen last time i was here with mark, but it was a good time nonetheless. and it was time for me to go when the smokers started, one by one, sneaking the cigarettes, including the damn bartender who had a big, stink-ass cigar. the no-smoking law is great until people realize that nothing's gonna happen if they light up. so i left my half-beer at a booth and hit the road.

having popped my IHOP cherry a couple weeks ago, i decided to stop in again for an impromptu meal on the way back to my shack. hard to believe, i know, that the first time i've been to IHOP was only a few weeks ago (except for maybe a time or two as a kid on road trips down south.) i drive by this place every day but haven't ever had the balls to eat there, cuz i'm a Denny's man, dammit. as i walked in, i was hoping i wouldn't be the only one there. my worries were alleviated when i first walked by some dude camped out with a laptop, and then a table covered with some sort of dorkus cards (like a cross between dungeons and dragons and pokemon) and two dorks trading them back and forth. i have to give them props because it takes all kinds of balls to do something like that anywhere than in your parents’ den, even if it is at IHOP at 2:30 in the morning. good luck, guys. whatever floats your boat. hey, at least they aren't coming to IHOP alone like me. i was seated next to these two college girls, one of which was a cornell girl (judging from the hat) who i instantly decided not to try to start a conversation with cuz she was not hot. and then i felt like shit for thinking that. who the hell am i to judge someone by looks alone? why, i'm the slightly inebriated, solitary guy at IHOP, that’s who. who better to judge people than me? i walk with a swagger, not a stagger, and i'm a two beer queer with no fear. and i can't make up my mind if i want breakfast or dinner. is 2:30 too early to get breakfast without feeling insecure?? can i have eggs and bacon before, say, 4:00am, and not feel weird about it? no. i went with the bacon cheeseburger. so much for living on the edge. and what are you supposed to do while waiting for food alone? taking a piss only takes a minute. i have no one to call on the cell fone. hmm... cell fone games. i never play them, which is clearly evident by my weak score (135) on Space Impact. i blame it on the black and white phone display. my phone is the only one left in existence lacking a color screen and/or a camera. mine phone is the equivalent of an '88 Plymouth Reliant in 2004. kinduva metaphor of my own life. as;lkjfasfd;ljsfd.
i'm tired. i can't wrap up this post with a snazzy conclusion that pulls it all together. i don't think there is a way to pull this crap together. 50 year old chicks. trading cards. eggs and bacon. there are no parallels. i give up. good night.