8:18 PM, May 1, 2006
The Palest of Ales
Jeff is going to be the death of me. By that I mean that my life will end because of him. By that I mean that he will kill me. By that I mean that he will stab me in my sleep.
Or, he's just a bad influence, and he champions staying out for more beer when I have to get up at 5:45 the next morning. I can't really blame him though- I'm getting up early to go golfing, and the Pale Ale was sensational at the Peanut tonight. It goes really well with hot wings and Johnny Cash.
I had a myspace relapse today. That site needs to go away, so I can lead a productive life.
Jeff offered:
I woke up at 6am, got up, and went to sit in my boring air conditioned beige cubicle for 9 hours while peeking outside at the blissfuly-lovely sunny 80 degree day and where the fire alarm went off at 2 with an ear-piercing screech. Half the office can no longer hear.
Have fun golfing. I hope you get sunburnt.
We need to check-up on the Drum Room; see if they've worked the kinks out.
2:28 PM, May 2, 2006