After a Short Night out

The short nights out are the best. You’re still lucid enough to blog, but you’re drunk enough to be blogtarded. I passed up the after-party. The guys retreated to play video games, the girls didn’t know they were done drinking (which means they’ll be hooking up tonight), and I was all white & rose’d out at the French bar, looking for my next entry. On my way out the door to Boheme, I almost ran back inside because the outdoors smelled like peanut butter. It was the first time I’d been outside today. “Peanut butter!” I thought. “I have to blog about this.” It was all I could do to put myself in my little car and tear my brains away from the internet. I wonder if I’m going to link my family. That’s the big question. I am already holding back, and I just got my blog today. I have a picture of my mom taped to my hard drive, and she says, “Don’t write about that. Don’t write about the gross stuff. Your grandmother will read this.” She is better than all the other moms. She hasn’t had the Botox like them, even though she’s naturally prettier. Tonight I was talking to the proprietor of the bar. “I pictured your boyfriend as more flamboyant,” he said. What does that mean? Does that mean Darren should be wearing leather pants and riding a motorcycle? I only used that example because of the overload of Wild Hogs DVD commercials of late. By the way, my older brother just rode a motorcycle to Nova Scotia. This is a good opportunity to tell you about my brothers and sisters:

Brad: 28. Motorcyle enthusiast. In medical school. Handsome. I’m actively looking for his future wife.

Jack: 24. Lives in Jackson, Wyoming, which means he smokes a lot of pot. He also runs a radio show. His DJ name is “The Body.”

Margaret: 21. Manages awesome bands. Her first just signed to Mercury Records. She is the Big Time.

Stephen: 18. Recruited by Loyola to play D1 lacrosse. The ultimate sweetheart jock and my baby brother. Cuddly as a kitten.

Fan letters accepted here.

My parents will get their own blog entry, God bless them.

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