Well I finally made it outside yesterday.

I had rehearsal with my increasingly talented metal band De Profundis and I didn't want to waste a minute of the evening. As soon as work let out at 5:00 I called Ryan to make sure it was safe to come over. I was given a very reasssuring "sure, Gretchen should be home and I'll be there in about half an hour". As I was half an hour away myself, I took this as a good sign. I pulled up to the house about an hour or later and said to the cabbie, "yo homes, smell ya later." Actually, it was twenty-five minutes later and Bob was on the doorstep looking very much like Bob. I stepped out of my car I asked him very condescendingly why he hasn't gone inside (apparently he didn't have the "Gretchen's home" inside scoop). I loftily jiggled the front door handle to find it locked and rang the doorbell many times only to hear it ring many times. It was painfully obvious that either nobody was home or everybody inside was either deaf or quite dead. At least Ryan was going to arrive any minute.

An hour after I had arrived, it occurred to me that perhaps Ryan was running a little later than "half an hour". Man, we were bored. We had emptied all the sound equipment from last weekend onto Ryan's front stoop and were leaning on it wondering how uncouth it would be to break a couple of his front windows. Fortunately, the mundane was broken by a friendly passerby. This wonderful man, whose name escapes me, was the product of many years of Jersey trashitude. Somehow within three sentences he had asked us for marijuana, informed us of a battle of the bands for a local radio station, and broken almost every grammatical rule I could fathom. His one hand was clearly broken and bound and his entire outfit was coated with spackle and local sport team emblems. We nodded him on hoping he would either carry on his merry way or do something far more entertaining. He took the hint and kept on walking, but he didn't wander farther than a couple houses in either direction and continued gracing us with his inane blathering. Never have I been prouder of our dear state. Bob reassured me that this breed of person (or rather inbred person, yuk yuk) is not unique to New Jersey and that every state claims its own gutter trash. If you say so, Bob.

Ryan eventually made it around 6:45 with some dog-ate-my-homework excuse (it was really his parents' computer that ate it but whatever). We rocked a little but had very little steam. We bullshitted until 8:30 and called it a night. After everyone packed up, I got a second wind and decided to practice guitar for another 40 minutes. I was shredding! It felt great.

Speaking of shredding, here's Dream Theater's John Petrucci:



Awesome.

After I was spent, Ryan invited me to hang out and watch the Miami Dolphins butt heads with the Pittsburgh Steelers. Those who know me best can imagine how excited that made me (for those of you that don't - not very). GO SPORTS...WOO! Miraculously enough, I sat and watched most of the game. It was very reassuring that I have absolutely no interest in sports.

Unless of course there are groin shots:


Speaking of a hit to the groin, this commercial made fluids come out my nose the first time I saw it on TV.