Don't even tell me it's gonna rain...

Like, woah. Welcome to the middle of what I think is gonna turn out to be a 6 day bender. And what better halfway point than 71, sunny, and listening to Boris' Pink? No better way, methinks. Motor-psycho guitar, indeed.

I have proved to myself that I can take 9 drinks on a stomach of lil' smokys and still awaken and run 4 miles the next day. I'm some kinda awesome, that's me...

So yeah, I'm just burnin' up some tunes to lug with some Red Stripe and Oberon over to the seasons first and last roof party at Dan and Moriah's. Yup, were gonna miss 'em but now we have an excuse to go to Minneapolis. We always liked Minneapolis... saw some good shows there, and even went to Wrestlemania back when Jesse Ventura was governor and made a guest appearance as ref. It was then that I realized government was a complete mockery and all forms of activism, participation, or caring are simply "buying into the hype". It's all rigged! Duh!

So yeah, off for more drinking. Today I've gotta train hard because apparently tomorrow's chosen event will consist primarily of tequila. Woof. Well, what are Sundays for?