Fuckin' alcohol, how does that work?

It works well, dammit.

This week was good. I liked it. Not much happened class wise, and Ngoni and I went to another baseball game ('cos we didn't learn our lesson the first time). No, dear gentle reader, this week was good for the sheer amount of alcohol swimming through my veins.

You see, the Democrat Society are a great group of people. On Thursday they invited me to a bar Downtown called Charbar. Of course I went. It's a great way to meet people, and fuck, the girl's are hawt.

It was a good shout.

For some reason, and one I will never challenge, everything was paid for. At least for me it was. Ngoni had to pay for shit. Other people were paying for shit. But not me. I think we both know I abused this. How much I drank is irrelevant.

It's quite astonishing how small the bar is, yet managed to encompass all of us. I can't put into words the fun I had. Talking to everyone, just meeting people and discovering which of my classes they were in. I doubt I'll go a day at school without seeing someone from that night.

So, whatever time we left (I have a feeling it was about 2, maybe 3) Ngoni and I split a cab to his place. Fuck am I getting a cab back to mine. I crash on his futon and wake up knowing I'll have to face a class.

I kinda wanted to go to class, but I just felt so rough. The bus ride back home was broken up by visiting a few shops. I went into Marshall's and Old Navy by the Galleria, got another bus, stopped into Academy (a huge fuck off sports and outdoor store), went into Boston Market and had an amazing chicken sandwich, then finally got on another bus.

I knew that there was to be a social hour on Friday. The fliers for it were all over the college. I just didn't know if I was going to go. First, getting there would be a bitch. Second, HOW THE FUCK WOULD I GET BACK?! Third, I had just tied one on.

But, I went. You know that feeling where you feel like you missed out? That you could've had the best night of your life? The feeling that eats at you and makes you feel moody?

Well, that feeling I didn't want to have.

The bus ride in was a bitch, requiring three separate buses, some waiting around and a whole lot of avoiding eye contact, I arrive at Rebel's.

It's a country bar. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but let's face it, I'm a geeky white boy. This ain't my scene. Fuck it, let's do this scene.

Ngoni was already there. He was the fuck who persuaded me to go, so I expect him to show up. He had a beer waiting for me, which was nice. So, we spoke to people we already knew from around the school. And kept talking, drinking, meeting people, recognizing faces, drinking, talking, drinking, etc.

I do not recall at what point the music became intensely country, but I do know that, beyond my own belief, I liked it. I know, I was shocked too. Now, let me qualify that statement. I don't love country, I certainly won't be buying any albums, nor downloading anything, and fuck off will I go to a country concert. But I can dig it in the context of a night out. When in Rome, right?

The dance floor ebbed and flowed with the dances that EVERYONE knows. I can't dance. I am not getting on that dancefloor. Then the linedancing happened.

OK, I linedanced. Just once, I swear. Obviously I was awful, but the blatantly gay guy (who was in denial) insisted I do it. He was in my personal zone far too often all night. Hey, buddy, you're a nice guy an' all, but you are making far too much bodily contact. Unless you are a lady I do not want this contact. No sir, not today, no way, no how.

The night wa--


Sorry, I've just come back from the cinema. The American is a damn fine film. Watch it. Watch it now.

Anyway, the night was good. I dunno where I was going with that.

College football is on. I am not invested in who wins.

Sunday, Sunday here again, tidy attire

The weekend makes me feel a bit restless. In theory, I could go anywhere I damn well please, but let's face facts. I'm restricted to the bus routes, and thus, the amount of time I am willing to suffer in order to get to where I want to go. Also, I'm a lazy fucker, so by the time I get out of bed, have a shower, get dressed and eat a Pop Tart or two, it's gone 12:30. That limits the times of stuff I could do things.

Downtown is doable within those parameters, but then, why do I want to go to place I go four days anyway? If there was anything there I would know about it and probably have seen it or been there already. Or made plans to do it.

The Galleria, while a nice mall, is expensive. And really doesn't have that many shops that I'm interested in. OK, the Lego shop is badass, but the lack of any visible prices isn't inspiring for my budget.

West Oaks Mall is 30 minutes by bus at the end of Westheimer, but I really can't see myself going there. I'll probably check it out at some point, but for the moment, there's not much (judging from the website, at least) to interest me.

Everywhere else requires getting on a different bus. And that requires planning and details. It hardly leaves the way open for adventure. I'm not necessarily pining to discover a cool/quirky/fruity/bitchin' shop or restaurant (and certainly not a bar before the 18th), but it would be nice to just check shit out. But then, I'm a lazy fuck.

Honestly, I don't need to buy anything. I guess I could do with some more pairs of shorts, a couple more shirts and a few more pairs of boxers* wouldn't go amiss, but what do I sincerely need? That's the question.

And out here, it's very easy to get 'need' and 'want' confused. My MP3 - while old and prone to crashing - does the job. Yet, I 'need' a new one. (That said, the current range of MP3 players are pretty hit and miss. Maybe the Zune would be the best choice, but why in the name of Kunte Kinte would you not have a dedicated volume button?)

It's the same thing with my phone. It's perfectly alright and works like a charm over here. Yet, I 'need' an Adroid smartphone. Well, no I don't. I just want one. It makes no sense to get one out here, it'll have to be a UK purchase. But then it'd be more expensive and taxed like a motherfucker.

Since I am a whore for DVDs, I had a semi-complete list written out in my head of DVDs I wanted to pick up. Spaced, for example, has a pretty sweet selection of commentaries on the R1 release. Oh, and pick up a bunch of volumes of MST3K, too. Yet, confronted on Amazon with these items I still look for the cheaper prices, only to find there are none. And the prices are pretty high. It seems that sales on that kind of item are just not happening. Dammit.

Still, I did pick up Better Off Ted season 1. Should be arriving any day soon now, so I will bask in that glory.

It's coming up to 1pm, I'm still in bed, need a shower, have work to do and no big ideas. If I am quick enough I could check out a KFC...

*Boxers out here are fucked up. It seems the most popular type of pants is the boxer brief. I'd hate to piss on anyone's cornflakes, but I will never wear boxer briefs. They do nothing to make my junk look appealing. Upon finding a cheap pair of proper boxers, I can guarantee that they won't have any buttons. Just a flap. I don't care for my penis escaping from the cosy ensconcement of my pants, thank you very much. Digging about for boxers that DO have buttons reveals that buttons out here must cost the fucking eart. $8-10 for a pack of three boxers with buttons compared to four or five pairs for $5. Oh and socks? Fucking hell, when did men's socks be confined to 'BLACK' and 'WHITE'. I pine for Primark.