Do you ever hate it when you go into the bathroom after someone's taken a shower and it's cooled off a bit to the point that it's not all humid, but it still smells good...and you have to take a giant, massive shit and you know that you really need to enjoy the smell right then and there because, after your done with that bathroom, it's never going to smell the same again...because....you know...you ate that delicious $13 hamburger at that snazzy joint in Manhattan a few hours ago and that muthafuka is on it's way out...along with the SuperNachos (which were also good, by the way).

It was all worth it though, because today was Justin's birthday and TheGreatDeceiver, Pete and Myself decided that we would take him into the city for a nice dinner. We ended up going to a place that Pete suggested called Bar 89, and..shit...it was good. Apparently, at some point, it had been on one of those "World's Best" shows on TLC for "Coolest Bathroom" cause when you went upstairs, the Uni-sex bathroom is made up of this room with a bunch of clear glass cubicals (that include a toilet and sink)...and when you go inside and throw the latch, the glass goes opaque. The wonders of technology, huh? Now no one has to stare at my ass when I drop trou and take a pee. I can finally urinate in peace (ofcourse, if I get lonely, I can always just leave the door open)

MY only problem was that when I went upstairs to use the bathroom, there was a big group of people being seated and I was trying to work my through through crowd and there was this one balding, middle aged man with his chair scooted out that I needed to get past so I said "Excuse me, sir" and he looked up at me and made a "I ain't movin' in fo' yo' fat-ass" kinda face and then looked back to the person he was talking to...which irritated me. I don't like it when people make that face at me, so I turned side ways and inched my way behind him...ever so slowly dragging my ass across the back of his head.

I was like "Yeah! Fucking Bald-ass whore Muther fucker!!! You like that ASS, BITCH!!!!" then I slapped my butt a few times and did a little dance...actually no I was more like "Teehee, I just rubbed my ass across the back of that bad man's head...he's a douche bag and I hope he dies...teeheehee" and then ran into the bathroom to pee infront of a group of Nuns (god, I wish).

So for Justin's birthday we lived every 13 year old boy's dream. We ate expensive hamburgers in a swanky NYC eatery, drank liquor, and then went home and played video games and cussed a lot until 2am. It's amazing what you can do when you're out of college and have no direction in your life.

It kind bothers me that I haven't been writing in here all that much lately. I guess it's because my life is just so fucking fantastic that I'm way too overcome with sheer bliss to be able to sit upright at the end of the day, let along wax eloquent about all the deliciously decadent ways that I fill my awake hours.

Truth be told, I tend to sit infront of my computer in my underwear a lot, and change my desktop picture every twenty minutes or so because, I've found that if I leave it up longer than that the picture starts talking to me. If I was on some sort of drug or alcohol I'd at least have an excuse...but as of right now my excuse for everything is "it's 'cause I'm fat" or "it's the tumor".

Now granted, I am fat...but I don't have a tumor (...that I know of) I just have a problem that a lot of middle-aged parents have, in which I have a horrible time remembering the names of people close to me and will resort to going through a big list of names, and eventually just give up and be like "You know who I'm talking about, the guy that I'm dating....the hot one. Yeah...him"

My parents do this to me all the time and seem to be quite content calling me "Auggie" which happens to be the name of my 12 year old dog. Ofcourse Auggie is a female so I have to constantlly point out to my parents that she is a dog and has a hell of a lot more nipples than I do.

I really have to remember to call my parents because, my grandmother seems to have gotten bored since the recent addition to her house has been completed...and has set her sights on making my life difficult in a round about way. First she does the innocent act of sending me my christmas presents, and then calls my father and a conversation like this ensues:

Grandma:"So did he get his christmas presents yet?"

father: confused "who?".

Grandma: "Your son"

father: "Oh him...I don't know, I haven't talked to him recently"

Grandma: "Well why not?"

Father: "He moved, and hasn't given me his new digitz, yo"

My grandmother then goes on to tell him what a horrible person he is because he's not best buddies with me, and makes him feel guilty and conflicted. She then writes a lovely email to my sister saying how she is saddened by the "rift" between my father and myself (which, apparently, is something our exstended family likes to discuss at great length cause they're fucking dull) and then emails me and tries to make me feel guilty about keeping my father out of "the loop".

I still have yet to write to her and inform her that there really is no "loop" as far as a phone is concerned...seeing that I don't HAVE a phone. I could give my dad Pete's phone number, seeing that I'm living here at the moment. But I would feel obligated to be like "Dad, if you ever need to contact me, this is my sexy-ass boyfriend's cell phone number...so gimme a ring, but don't blame me if he answers and verbally abuses you for a little bit before handing it to me, you've made his life a little bit more difficult by making me neurotic." Eventually I will get a cell phone so my family can not call me as much as they want....cause it's not like they ever would anyway (or ever did when I had a phone).

So yeah, my grandmother is trying to stir up shit that just doesn't need to e stirred. I should call her and remind her that I'm not afraid to body-slam her into the coffee table, like I did JLo after she insulted my enchiladas. You don't fucking dis my enchiladas in my own house DAMNIT! Bitch had it comming, she was all stalkin' my ass in Savannah (damn PR's...what do they know about enchiladas anyway???)

Now I've gotten myself all worked up. I think I may lay in Pete's water bed and read my book all seductive like and make eyes at him while he plays WarCraft.
Yeah...that's a plan.