I Digress to Regress

Lately, I feel as if my mind has entered a state of regression. Back to the thoughts of rum induced days of card games and note cards (as opposed to the current vodka induced days of car troubles and not getting carded) and a time when your biggest worry was hoping the bouncer would believe your last name was Lopez, as per your ID. More recently, my liver has joined the booze bound bandwagon to the past.
I awoke Sunday to a pounding sound originating inside my head. The night before started harmless enough with a glass of pre dinner wine at a friends house. The decision of the night was where a few of the regulars (to the bottle) would gather for dinner. Naturally, the options are whittled away by the best drink specials offered in the UCF area. We settle upon El Cerra who lures us in with promises of dollar margaritas, which for a dollar could only mean a cup of cheap, de-wormed tequila on the rocks with a splash of green mix (for color). Who could resist?
Apparently, our dollar drinks are lost in translation, or inflation, and were in fact about the price a margarita should be. Worry not, because this doesn't prevent a certain best friend from challenging a certain boy to a chugging contest not once, but twice. Drinking for my affection, obviously. At this point I am satisfyingly buzzed, but evidently we are here for an as yet to arrive dinner.
Through a certain degree of separation (no Kevin Bacon required), we wind up at the makings of a beer pong tournament. Suddenly I'm straight and underaged again. Unfortunately, my previously bragged about pong skills have diminished with age like a freshman's self dignity. This calls for an early retirement for team "Hey girl hey"... This beer gives me a headache and it's past my bedtime. Regression period over.

Plenty of hatin' for everyone!

Here is the latest video released by JibJab, which pretty much blasts candidates from both parties.

Barefoot in the Lav or Why You Disgust Me

I just wanted to point something out. Aircraft restrooms are NOT your private bathroom at home. They are PUBLIC bathrooms. Public bathrooms in which there is toilet paper in the sink, piss on the floor and probably even feces on the flusher. Because of these and many more factors, it is not acceptable to enter these premises with feet uncovered. By doing so, you are then tracking your poopy, pissy feet down the aisle and probably up onto the back of the seat in front of you. Airplanes are already the most germ filled vessels out there, so your help worsening the matter is not needed. While we're at it, I'm also gonna request you don't go doo until back on solid ground. Your insides smell up the whole cabin. Happy flying!

Hurricane Names '08

Here are this year's names that will soon remind you of destruction and devastation. As a suggestion, refrain from using any of these names for your future children. And just to be cautious, I don't think I'd be friends with anyone with names like Cristobal or Nana in the fist place.

Arthur
Bertha
Cristobal
Dolly
Edouard
Fay
Gustav

Hanna

Ike

Josephine

Kyle

Laura

Marco

Nana

Omar

Paloma

Rene

Sally

Teddy

Vicky

Wilfred

As a side note, I hope that Hurricane Sally (my mother's name)  is a real doozie.  I can hear it already:  "Sally destroys the lives of thousands, while her path of destruction is far from over."

 

Pilot Joke o' the Day

-Did you hear that Continental and Aer Lingus are merging?
...the new airline will be called "Conalingus."


*golf claps*