Let's get naked and shag somebody

Let's give the Mets some love before they find a way to finish the season 70-90, with nine guys on the DL and a couple others in jail. Who the hell is Xavier Nady? He's my new hero, that's who he is.
The weekend started out innocent enough and you know immediately when I say innocent, I'm talking about everyone's favorite Christian, Mike Clements. Hooked up with Mike (not that way, perv) and his law school buddies at the bowling alley Friday night. We bought some fun pack or something that was supposed to be for two hours of bowling, but apparently the place is run by monkeys and our lanes didnt shut off until around 1 am, long after Mike's finger started bleeding and I had downed about a gallon of Pepsi. If I wasn't going to be drunk on a Friday night, I sure as hell was going to get as fucked up on caffiene as possible. Not surprisingly, caffiene is for pussies and it didn't do much besides make me really angry whenever I bowled poorly. Was fun, though. All the bowling reminded me of when I used to be in summer leagues where they had free bowling for members. My mom would drop me off on a Friday and pick me up Sunday night. I'd have open blisters all over my thumb and I would try to cover them with that nasty fake skin stuff. Ahh, it was glorious.
The sober, clean fun weekend didn't last for long. Yeah. Went to Big Daddy's, a new downtown dance club, on Saturday and that's right, when there's dance, Ryan enters a new realm of alcoholism. I brought my trusty flask (actually john's party poker flask) there and smuggled it into the bathroom to keep refilling my $2 glass of coke with bacardi. There was a guy in the bathroom, you know one of those dudes who wipes your ass for you and then flashes a big smile and expects you to tip them. Really freaked me out. We're in fuckin downtown Richmond, one of the most dangerous cities in the country, and there's a guy all dressed up in the bathroom of this place pretending we're at a 5-star Hilton. When I go downtown, I'm not going there to be pampered by some dude anxiously waiting for me to put my schlong away so he can powder my balls. I go downtown, I want things dirty. I want blood and bodily fluids to be flying everywhere. I want to wake up in the morning and think "fuck, that was a terrible idea." Anything less is unsatisfactory.
Lauren's Easter Brunch yesterday was pretty sweet. Sadly, it took a whole lot of effort for me to wake up for its 1 pm start, but the food was amazing and everyone told dead animal jokes. Superb. Headed to the Easter parade on Monument, which really was a lot more like a giant herd of people more than anything resembling a parade. They did have a small petting zoo in this cage for children. I went in there. Didn't realize at the time that it was a bit creepy, but apparently everyone else turned around and saw that I had wondered into the cage. I was not, however, contrary to some rumors swirling around, petting any of the children. Parade turned out to be a lot of walking and really my body doesn't do well with distances further than 15 ft. Jeff and I eventually went back to his place to add some flavor to the parade. That worked, well, but then I needed Abby to walk me home so I wouldn't fall asleep in a trash can.
I'm still doing a lot of research on Thailand and some of stuff is a bit scary, with the cops being all corrupt, a ton of guys over there for whores and increasing violence against westerners in recent years. But really, it bothers me a little, but it's also what makes it so exciting. I hate routine. I fucking hate it. And from what I can tell, my life would be far from routine in Bangkok. Now I could very easily change course this summer and decide to go up to Canada and help club baby seals, but the more I learn about Thailand, the more I'm intrigued and want to get over there. Actually, I think what scares me the most isn't what I might face over there, it's how I would adjust when I got back home. I'm going there to jolt my body out of any type of apathy and general non-chalance towards life and once I have that kind of constant stimulation, how in the world I am going to come back home and return to working some bullshit job? I guess that's just something I'll need to deal with down the road. Plus there's drugs to cure everything.
This girl I knew I college wrote an article in the Collegian last week that basically said the new opinion editor was great and he was a welcome change after a string of similar editors. She even mentioned the carpet-muncher incident, which for anyone who doesn't know, occured when I referred to the girls in a feminist-type group as carpet munchers. A whole big fury erupted, with a hate speech forum being put on and all that fun stuff. Anyway, the article surprised me, namely because this new guy isn't really funny. Like, at all. I know my humor is crude and often just profane, but this guy is as boring as a tree stump. He took a cheap shot at Pierson, who was the last opinion editor, in a column a couple weeks ago. I emailed Pierson the other day and told him I hoped the new guy had gotten his required ass-beating. His response, "i honestly want to snuff this kid. if i see him on a weekend when imdrunk, hes done." Thank you, Drew, for cleaning up the trash.
Big few weekends coming up. Slack may be coming in, along with our semi-roommates Preston and Bender, this weekend. Next weekend, the crew from EI will be in town, where things are guaranteed to turn ugly, especially if there's a camera and Sean's penis around. Then it's off to London, where I plan on flying back home in 'cuffs.
$5 to the first person who can fill in the blanks... _ _ _ _ _.