Damn you, M&M Mars.

I just saw an M&Ms commercial that used as a soundtrack Iron & Wine's cover of the Postal Service's "Such Great Heights". I didn't complain when it was used in Garden State, and I usually don't mind music I like being used in commercials, in movies, on TV shows (looking at you, OC), &c.

But there was something wrong with this. There's something intimate about Iron & Wine's version of the song that was violated by putting it behind a commercial with computer-generated candies. There's something private about it. It fit with Garden State and didn't threaten to bludgeon prescious memories to which that song was a soundtrack. But fucking M&Ms? I'm pretty sure it made baby Jesus, if not Sam Beam, cry.

Friday

After an uneventful work day and dinner at Two Rows with Nathan (whose first question of me usually concerns whether I've gotten any lately) and Melissa and a brief return home, I got a call from Will informing me that he and Brad were at faux-dive Kay's.

When I showed up, I was handed a can of PBR, and they were with fellow BCMer Brandy and a group of four that I didn't know—three girls and one guy. Brad's got a little bit of player in him, and when I'm with he and Will, my odds of spending part of my evening talking to some random girls shoot up quite a bit. Now this doesn't usually do me any direct good (such as the time I met Alex and got her number, and subsequently got stood up), since the places we hang out at and the women Brad ends up pursuing aren't exactly conducive to my meeting the type of girls I want to meet. What it does accomplish is giving me a safe situation in which to practice chatting up girls I don't know, since nine times out of ten they're going to be girls that completely aren't my type. I think it's good for me.

Will decided it would be smart to pull his "we're med students" routine again, and, beause I wasn't particularly invested in the evening's outcome, I played along, not wanting to throw off anything he was trying to accomplish. First he through me a curve by later claiming that he was an M.D./Ph.D., thus giving him an out to talk about his normal grad school stuff (bastard). But it came back to bite him in the ass nicely—one of the girls, the one who was married to the guy, did marketing for doctors and had a lot of rather specific questions for Will (and it was nice to see him squirm), which eventually moved on to pretty clear flirting. Strangely, she asked for Will's number (and, according to Will, tried to stealthily delete it).

Brad had zeroed in on one of the other girls, the cuter one (of course). The four of them were in a booth; the girl's husband and the third girl were sitting with me at an adjacent table. I talked to them a bit, tried to at least get something going with the third girl, who was cute despite having made the decision to leave the house in overalls, with minimal success. It was strange how these people threw out character assessments. I was described as "the nice one" after Will had earlier given fake names. Overalls girl decided that I was "a thinker". Husband described me as "a good guy". Maybe because, at the time, I wasn't the one trying to flirt with his wife.

Conversation lagging there, I turned my attention back to the booth, where Wife was describing me as "a pornstar" due to my beard and hair. "I bet you have a pair of aviator sunglasses, too." Guilty as charged. Will got up at some point, and Wife invited me to sit next to her. By that point I was a bit past mildly drunk. She was at least mildly flirty. She was very likable. Not my type, but lots of charisma. Just gave off a nice aura of non-self-conscious cool. Tongue ring, too. She played the "give me your driver's license and express how I can't believe you're 23" game that seems to happen so often to me these days.

I don't really consciously flirt. It just sort of happens (or doesn't happen). When I try, it certainly doesn't work as well. Anyway, somehow I had my arm around her. I'm pretty sure there was a hand on my leg. I wondered if Husband still thought I was a good guy. Somehow I made a comment about wanting to be on Wife's backup list if things were to not work out with Husband. Lord knows that line has caused me trouble in the past (Sabrina). Husband looked annoyed and wanted to leave. Brad had already secured the Cute One's number, so we said goodbyes. Brad managed to top my insensitive comment by offering his lawyerly services in case of divorce. Cute One said "Call me any time." I could probably pick up a few things from Brad.

Anyway, it was interesting. Not just because I enjoyed meeting and talking to random people, but to see how I subconsciously slipped into flirting. I'll have to pay more attention to that in the future. If I hadn't known better, though, I would have thought that Overalls was Husband's wife, and Wife was trying to get with either Will or I. The dynamic was pretty strange. Just one of those wonderfully surreal drunk experiences that add some extra flavor to my life, like a tangy dash of jalapeño tabasco sauce.

We hit House of Pies afterwards. Will complained that I had bought draft beer, which apparently upsets his stomache. Will, I am officially giving you shit about that. Brad thanked us for being great wing men, which wasn't exactly a conscious role I was trying to fill, but it's nice to know I have it in me.

Music bulletin

Everyone needs to go out and buy, download, or otherwise obtain the debut album by Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, a New York band that seems to have shown up out of nowhere. A little Cure, a little Velvet Underground, a little Echo and the Bunnymen, and a little Talking Heads (or so I'm told), with less obvious modern parallels to the Arcade Fire, Neutral Milk Hotel, and Wilco's psychadelic days. it's the best thing since sliced bread... or the Arcade Fire's debut, or Youth Group's new album—I'm not quite sure which. Regardless, it's excellent. It's my new obsession.

Thursday

OK, I'm making progress here.

We slept in Thursday morning before enjoying the always tasty Niko Niko's, and then I went in to school and Sabrina started her journey home. I didn't manage to be terribly productive, and the day didn't end soon enough.

Home for dinner, and then I went to meet Lauren and Katherine (Kitten) at K's place before going to see Batman again. We had an interesting talk about fights between couples, and the girls commented how being able to fight in a spirited manner was an important quality in a man (which I found a little disconcerting). K recalled a specific instance in which she was a complete bitch after a previous boyfriend did something nice for her, and then complained that he didn't call her on it. Nick, having met her briefly, may vouch for this: the girl's fucking crazy. I asked for a glass of water and got one of the angriest looks I'd ever seen, and K complained that she would have to wash a glass. I told her if it was that big of a deal, she could give me a dirty one.

After the movie, we went for a drink at Catbird's which did a nice job with the faux-speakeasy thing. We were there sipping on our drinks when a thirty-something Vietnamese man came up to the table, sat his drink down, pulled up a chair, greated K warmly, and then walked away. K then went ballistic—apparently this wasn't someone she wanted to encounter. Lauren suggested that we claim that we needed to be up early the next morning and get out of there. The man, who seemed quite coked-up, then proceeded through various permutations of sitting and standing; picking up his drink and putting it back down; staying to talk and walking away. I tired of it pretty quickly but K gave no real indication that she wanted to be out of there.

Lauren and I had a previous conversation where she marveled that the most negative thing she'd ever heard me say was that the people at a party we had attended were a bit stuck up. I informed her that when we left, I would easily top that. Deciding to take matters into my own hands, I finally "reminded" Lauren that I "needed to be up early", and the three of us made our exit and went for another round at Poison Girl.

While there, I mentioned to Lauren that Sabrina had nominated her for duty on the FWAW committee, a post she was willing to accept. When she asked me what kind of woman I was looking for, I refrained from indicating her. She did mention that Chris had suggested something similar, which I thought was rather thoughtful of him. Speaking of:

Me: So is Chris going to that wedding with you this weekend? I'm trying to figure out what my social options are.
Lauren: I'm not sure. But he is sick. So if you do hang out, don't let him breathe on you.
Me: Well, I guess that rules out the male-on-male cuddling.
Lauren: Spooning's still OK, though.
...
Lauren: You know, I don't find that thought nearly as disturbing as I probably should.
Me: I do.
(Somewhere in Plano, Sabrina's ears perk up.)
Sabrina: It could be so hot!

We were sitting, finishing our drinks, when all of the sudden, K said "We're leaving. Now." Apparently, coked-up vietnamese man had just walked by. We returned to K's place, where she became openly antagonistic towards me, criticizing my cheese slicing abilities, asking why I hadn't taken a bong hit yet, and other things I don't really remember, occasionally apologizing for acting that way before resuming doing so. Fucking crazy. Really.

So, three days blogged in one night. I think that's enough for now. The weekend continued the week's pattern of interesting and insightful conversation and getting to know new friends better, with a side of random bullshit drunk conversations with girls while Will's friend Brad was working his game. Interesting stuff all around—at least for me. I may or may not be able to communicate that effectively.

Wednesday

After her morning with the apartment locator from Hell, Sabrina picked me up and we went in search of more interesting dwellings than generic apartment complexes and found some nice duplexes in the area between River Oaks and Montrose. The first place was great: bar, refinished hardwood floors, lots of room, non-neutral walls, garage, utility room with washer and dryer, owner lived on site. The second place we let ourselves into wasn't in very good shape, though perhaps we were biased by the slight hint of urine in the air. The third was a second story duplex, also with recently refinished hardwood floors and lots of windows, but something about it made me feel a little claustrophobic. We also checked out the unit next to Dan and Kristin (and later their place, to give an idea of the finished product), and one other place that was worth looking at. The first was the best, and I'm rooting for that one (and so's Sabrina).

That accomplished, we hit up Star Pizza for their wonderful salsa verde pizza, though we sadly left our leftovers at the resteraunt. We went to catch up with a motley crew of first years and assorted hangers on at Two Rows. Oliver and Anup were there, as well as Anup's girlfriend and her height-descriminatory friend. Flirting with her (in what Sabrina described as a painfully obvious mating ritual) was their statistics TA, with whom I talked a bit of shop. Also present was a member of Anup's lab. No one really stuck around long. Sabrina caught the end of the Baylor/UT baseball game, and there was a moment when I was concerned that we were going to be lynched by the vast crowd of UTers.

From there we went over to Woodrows to see if anybody was over there and had a round. We considered catching up with Dan and Kristin at the Proletariat for a show but instead opted for something more conducive to conversation.

I wanted to go somewhere interesting and decided to chance Under the Volcano, which proved to be a wonderfully lucky choice. In keeping with my predilection for having to check out interesting combinations of flavors (Guiness ice cream, for example), I decided I had to try their strawberry basil margarita, which was excellent. If you're thrown off by the basil, think mojito. It worked. Beautifully. Sabrina had some coffee-based concoction that included (I believe) tequila and Grand Marnier, and we checked out their Italian queso (included capers and olives). We took in the decor and atmosphere and I enjoyed more quality time with my wonderful friend.

Tuesday

Sabrina was wonderful enough to provide me the luxury of a ride to work before she took care of some business at U of H and checked out some apartments with a locator. She was also wonderful enough to pick me up, too. Lauren had expressed an interest in dinner at Jenni's, so we scooped her up later that evening. I still haven't quite found the right menue item for me, and Sabrina was not happy with her porked-up fried rice. But dinner and conversation was good, if a little awkward at first.

But the Marquis' big ass long islands dispelled any remaining awkwardness. Sabrina told stories about me (did Lauren really need to know about Angry Drunk Ward and his fraternal twin, Emotional And Easily Offended Drunk Ward?). It was a nice but odd sort of grouping. Almost like I was introducing Sabrina to a girlfriend, which I guess might be true in an ideal world. Quoth the Sabrina:

Tuesday night, Matt and I went out with the infamous Lauren. I later told Matt that she really, truly was a perfect match for him ignoring the fact that she has a long-term boyfriend. Charlene, she really is great. I mean, I had never felt this way about a girl before. She was really awesome. Matt tried to comfort me by pointing out that they can still be friends and that there would be other girls that I will like down the road. But I don’t want other girls; I want this girl!

As with Nick, I was glad to have it confirmed that I'm not just being self-defeating or masochistic, that she really is great and that we have a lot in common. Considering recent conversations I had with Sabrina about whether or not I had a predilection toward overly dramatic women, it was nice to see that I'm capable of picking them sometimes. And sympathy always means a lot to me, too. Not only did Sabrina approve of her as a potential dating choice further down the road but also agreed that she might make a good head of the local chapter of Find Ward A Woman (FWAW), and even volunteered that she could be our third for mindless hanging out, filling Bryan's post when he was unavailable.

We dropped Lauren off and went to Poison Girl. Sabrina abstained but I had another beer. We talked, and it was good. It probably ended up being mostly about Rachal, but I'm big on retrospectives. Cleared up a few things, got some advice. It was good. Sabrina's a wonderful, close friend, and I'll be lucky if I get to have her nearby for a few years.

Only somewhat accurate

Week retrospective coming soon, but in the meantime:

Your Leo Drinking Style

You love to drink and dance -- you're likely a fabulous dancer. You're usually pretty a good drinker as well, losing your commanding dignity and turning kittenish. Of course, you're quite aware you're darling -- Leos will be Leos, after all. You generally know your limit, probably because you loathe losing self-control. When you get over-refreshed, flirting will ensue -- and perhaps not with the person what brought you. But you are not the type to break rules even when drunk, so others try to ignore your naughty behavior. You'll just make up for it with a sheepish (and hung over) apology the next day.

Your Signature Cocktails

Leos like flashy drinks, be they complicated tropical concoctions festooned with umbrellas, like a Bahama mama or the more common strawberry daiquiri or mai tai. Indeed, you often have a taste for the fruity -- try a screwdriver, or add an extra cherry to the next Manhattan. Your sense of drama lends itself to a kir royale, of course.

Your Celebrity Drinking Buddies

Edward Norton, Bill Clinton, Madonna, Debra Messing, Martha Stewart, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Christian Slater, and Fred Durst.

What's Your Alcohoroscope?

Guest Post by Dan

Dan was kind enough to add his perspective on Architecutre in Helsinki (editorial asides in parenetheses and italics):

ok. so monday night the i saw the best show of the year besides the time in january when i saw the arcade fire. matthew would disagree (Good, but handily bested by the Arcade Fire, the Decemberists, Caribou, and maybe Death From Above 1979.) but who cares? this is my guest blog spot, not his. so, the band was architecture in helsinki and they played at walter's. their newest album that came out a few months ago is in case we die. hey ward can you post an mp3 on this thing (Here.)? if so, put up tiny paintings. this will not be your favorite song from the album but after you fall in love with "maybe you can owe me", "frenchy, i'm faking", and "wishbone", you will then come to love tiny paintings. you will see it’s the best song on the record and you will want to scream WHITE! WHITE! WHITE! at all times—appropriate or not.

so anyway the show was so good because the album is so good. they have like 8 or 10 people in the band ((I counted eight, but there could have been one hiding.) and on the record they use i think 42 different instruments. i was thinking they were going to have to use samples or something for much of this but to my surprise and delight they played all these weird sounds live. they had blocks and shake-y things and like a clarinet and maybe an oboe. or a piccolo? what does a piccolo look like anyway? hey ward can you post a picture of a piccolo here? (Done.)



i don’t remember the exact setlist but they played all my favorite songs mentioned above. the place was super hot and pretty crowded when we got there. the opening band was playing their last song. some local band who sounded ok. surprisingly many people left after they were done. i was pleased about this as it allowed us to get a bit closer. john and matthew and levi and zana(?) (I don't know either.) and kristin and i were all there. none of them thought it was the best show of the year but they don’t love the album like i do. but seriously this album is great. it’s a grower though. listen 5 times and you will fall in love. i am calling it my number 1 album of the year. i know it’s been a good year and all but that’s the top one for me. it beats out crooked fingers, bright eyes, m ward, low, okkervil river (barely) m.i.a., youth group, magnolia electric co., and many others. this album was not number 1 before the show but after seeing how great they sounded live it made me appreciate the album more. so much so that after the show i went and gave most of the band members a hug. and bought a shirt. they are australian too so they had great accents and were fun to talk too. i was getting drunk so i am sure they thought i was an idiot. but i had such a good time i did not want to go home.

instead we went to cecil's for dollar beers. i sort of lost track of things at this point but i am pretty sure everyone went over there with us. brian and a friend of his showed up after seeing batman part 5 or whatever it’s. and nicholas was there too. all i remember is: matthew left pretty quick (See below.). i shot pool and won two games. kristin gave her number to a lesbian.

this story has a sad ending though. i went home and proceeded to fall down the stairs. i messed myself up so good i had to skip work on tuesday. my ass is way bruised as is my arm. here is a pic of my arm (No ass pic?):



it’s not that good but if you can compare your own arm to the picture you will see that you are not supposed to have a huge black/blue stain in the middle. ok thanks for the guest spot ward. and don't edit my post!!

Thanks Dan!

Monday

Six Feet Under still feels like it's building towards something. About half of the characters are on the verge of some breakdown or another. But how many times can you watch these people be tortured? I guess one more, and then maybe they'll resolve everything before putting the show to rest. The first season or two had a lot of beautiful things to say about life, relationships, and death. But once the conflicts therein were resolved, it started to get mean and cynical as they looked for more conflict to keep the show interesting.

Thankfully, there was beer, pizza, and good company.

We went to see Australia's Architecture in Helsinki perform their infectious, happy, ADD-style pop at Walter's on Washington. The place was hella packed, and quite hot, but the band put on a very enjoyable show. I talked to Architect Kellie after the show, thanking them for coming, saying they did a good job and such:

K: Do you live here?
W: Yeah. It's not a bad place. Though it helps that it was a step up from where I was from.
K: Where's that?
W: Waco.
K: Oh, we're driving through there tomorrow. How far is it?
W: About 3 hours.
K: Just in time for lunch. Is there a Whole Foods or a good vegetarian place?
W: (surpressing laughter) Waco isn't exactly a Whole Foods kind of place. There's a really good Thai place though.
(directions to Bangkok were given and probably quickly forgotten)

It was late, but I hadn't heard form Sabrina yet, so I was in no real hurry to get back home and went to Cecil's for dollar drinks. At about 12:50, I started to worry and called Sabrina.

W: How's the drive?
S: Almost there. I don't know where the Beltway is, but I'm on Kirby so I've probably passed it.
W: Um, yeah, you did. Shit. I'll be there in about 15 minutes.

So I made it home, helped Sabrina unload, and then we talked for a while before bed.

Dan offered to guest blog about the show. I'll append his comments later.

Various

An article about a new trend, and more commentary about Conor Oberst and Bright Eyes.

Here's some 'blogs I've been reading lately:

• Disillusioned New York Bouncer
• Disillusioned New York Lawyer
• Disillusioned SMU Professor

All are well-written. Maybe if I cared enough mine would be that entertaining.

When Sabrina was driving me to school after a wonderful lunch at Niko Niko's (the stories of our adventures will be posted later; for now content yourselves with her account), we drove past a small block of storefronts, outside of one of which was a girl, wearing a life guard uniform, sitting in a life guard chair. We were almost past her when I finally realized that there seemed to be no real connection between the girl and the business she was perched in front of. I turned to look in an attempt to solve the mystery, she took notice and waved. Sabrina offered to turn around and make another pass, but it sounded like more effort than it was worth.

It will be a mystery for the ages, I suppose.

MD Anderson

So because my apartment complex runs a very convenient shuttle to the medical center, it'sa popular choice with people who need a place to stay indefinitely while undergoing medical treatment. In particular, that includes MD Anderson cancer patients. I think that a local church may even lease out a small number of apartments as a ministry to these people.

I see many of them and their families on the bus on a daily basis and for the most part, don't really think about it, but every now and then something happens that brings my mind to focus on the triumphs and tragedies that these folks are going through.

Like the older gentleman (a patient rather than a spouse) who spied my iPod last fall and wanted me to teach him how to use iTunes in exchange for a six pack of beer. I went over to his apartment, showed him a few things, and talked to him for a while. He works for (or maybe owns) an advertising firm—I want to say somewhere like Tennessee, though I don't remember but I may still have his business card. He told me how he was just an old pot head and was hoping that one day soon he would feel up to smoking a joint and then eating a lot of food. He talked about how he enjoyed the sympathy he received from a cute girl working in the complex office. We talked politics (he was a liberal), and Bill Clinton, and how he related to Bill's situation with Monica Lewinsky and was thankful that none of his indiscretions (which he made it very clear he regretted) had ever resulted in him having his back up against the wall and having to deny, deny, deny.

I never really spent any more time with him, though I saw him on the buss every now and then and said hi. I haven't seen him in about six months, which means that either he got better, or didn't. It's strange not knowing.

There was also the guy with whom I shared a cab a few months back when the bus was broken down. His wife was a patient, and her prognosis was excellent. I don't recall having seen him lately; I hope things turned out well for him too, of course.

I took notice today (as one might expect) when a cute red headed girl I hadn't seen before got on the bus. I'm prone to evesdropping, and overheard that her mother was undergoing treatment at MD Anderson, listened as she learned that you have to buy bus tokens from the office, and noticed her sweet, friendly, innocent demeanor (reminded me a bit of a girl I went to high school with—Lindsey Bacon, for those of you who know her). I noticed a look of slight panic on her face as the bus came into the medical center and she didn't know where to get off the bus, and was on the verge of offering what help I could when the woman in the seat next to her (whose husband was a patient) offered to help her get where she was going. They talked a little bit about her mother and I caught bits and pieces of the conversation while I was reading—her father is in town with them, for example. I noticed tears started welling up in her eyes as she spoke. And then it was time for me to get off at my stop.

That poor girl—I just wanted to go over there and give her a hug and tell her how sorry I was that she had to deal with such a thing, and wanted to offer her my friendship if she ever needed to get away and be distracted. Of course, I didn't get the chance to do any of that. Maybe I should have; maybe it would have been weird. There's probably not a thing I can do for her, but I wish there was. I hope things turn out well for her, but I know that so often in these situations they won't.

Waco

I skipped work on Friday (of course, it turned out that the boss picked that day to send me the grant for proofing) and took off for Waco, arriving in town in time to get some work done on my muffler (so that my car will pass inspection next month) and to grab a gut pack from Vitek's (mmm... Vitek's). Had dinner with Mom and Rebecca, picked up some stuff for Father's day and some groceries, and then went out for drinks with Rebecca.

Got a haircut Saturday and then went to Leslie's wedding. It was nice to see a pretty good number of the old Seventh crew there (Bryan & Lisa, Phil & Kelly, Helen, Katy, Brianne, etc.). We went for Ninfa's afterwards and then Cricket's, where darts were played and Chrissy managed to miss the dart board by an astounding seven or eight vertical feet, landing it in the wall out of even Bryan's reach.

Sunday brought church (struggled to stay awake, as I usally do in church, lab meeting, class, or any such occasion)—where I briefly ran into Robyn—and then lunch with the family and the return to Houston. Went for a couple of beers with Will.

All in all, a low-key but enjoyable weekend.

Battery (but no assault)

Saturday evening, I returned from my mailbox to my car, fresh issue of Stereophile in hand, turned the key, and... nothing. At first I thought it was something serious—I hadn't had any previous trouble with the battery, and it wasn't that old. But eventually I noticed that the chirp of my alarm system was getting more and more pathetic sounding and then died completely. Yep. Battery.

Jeff called to see if I wanted dinner; he had amazing timing. Not because I wanted dinner; I had already picked it up and his timing there was terrible. But I asked him to come pick me up and give me a ride to lab after he and Jim had gotten something to eat. I then reflected on how I was going to handle my evening. I needed to go finish up the stuff the boss had requested for Sunday at school. I wanted to do so in time to make it to Mary Jane's to see Of Montreal. I needed a way to get from school to Mary Jane's, which was complicated by thte fact that I was going later than the other people I knew.

But if it was just the battery that needed to be replaced, I could do that. I probably wouldn't be able to make it to the show, but I'd at least be able to drive myself to school and back and wouldn't have to carry my laptop for the two mile walk home, or waste ten bucks on a taxi. So I called Jeff to see about going to get a battery.

Now, at 8:00 on a Saturday evening, your battery options are limited. I was looking for reliability and expediency, as I was still harboring fantasies of making it to the show. So, when Jeff and Jim showed up, I suggested Wal-Mart. The reaction was, to say the least, violent. Jeff suggested the Super Target instead.

Me: "Are you sure Target sells batteries? I don't think they do."
Jeff: "They have to. They're Target. They sell everything."

Twenty minutes later, we discovered, certifiably, that there were no car batteries to be found in Super Target. The guys grudgingly assented to Wal-Mart, and, thankfully, a cross-Houston trek in search of a non-Wal-Mart that sold batteries at 9:00 on a Saturday evening was avoided. So we went to the nearest Wal-Mart. Appropriately, Jeff was wearing a Death Cab shirt endorsing the Democratic party and Jim's shirt had something about gay pride prominently displayed on it.

The greeter seemed very confused as to why we were bringing a battery into Wal-Mart that was not purchased from Wal-Mart and that we couldn't return to Wal-Mart. Despite Jim's insistence that we were not allowed to buy anything but a car battery, they both stopped frequently to look at toys. Eventually, we found the batteries. A sign said, "Free battery testing." I wanted to check to make sure my battery was really the issue, so we eventually tracked down a sales associate. "We don't do that here." Because I am sometimes a bit too focused to think of practical matters, I had been hand carrying the old battery and was getting tired. Jim, in an astonishing display of common sense, got me a shopping cart. We trecked up to the front and paid for the battery, then we had to wait in the customer service line to drop off the old one. Jim asked Jeff and I if BCM knew that we were too stupid to just leave the old battery somewhere in the back of the story.

We returned, installed the battery (with no electrocutions!), and had success. I went to school and finished up my modest proposal, too late for the concert, and called it a night.

I did nothing on Sunday. Except, perhaps, for watching "Family Guy" and "American Dad". I think "American Dad" is improving, or at least Sunday's episode had some inspired moments. "Family Guy" was a little iffy. Oh, and I saw Mr. and Mrs. Smith with Will's crew. It was quite enjoyable, actually. Pretty clever.

Went to Dan and Kristin's new place for "Six Feet Under" and pizza again on Monday. "SFU" has been a bit flat so far this season, both disappointing after a promising finale last season, but not unexpected after the evenness of the rest of last year's episodes. My hope is that they're laying the ground for a nice payoff. We shall see.

I was thrilled to learn that on Mondays, Cecil's had $1 longnecks and $1 wells. It's pretty hard to beat that. The place itself, I'm a bit indifferent to. The deck's nice. The inside is just OK. The crowd is a pretty heterogeneous mix.

Then, I had to go back up to school to finish modest proposal number two.

I saw Batman on Tuesday night. It was pretty solid. Having a little distance now, I could probably pick a couple of nits (the beginning was a bit sterile; Katie Holmes seemed a bit young for the role, Christian Bale was a bit wooden), but really, it was up there with X2 and Spider-man 2. I highly recommend it. And I'd like one of the new Batmobiles, please.

I dropped my car off yesterday to get some noises in the suspension investigated. Turns out, it's bad. Like $1000 of repairs worth of bad. To put it in perspective, I bluebooked the car yesterday. $800 trade-in, $2300 resale. We went ahead and got one repair done so that it's driveable to Waco for this weekend. So, new car, or more repairs? I really don't want to have to buy right now...

I also had dinner with Joe Taube and Beverly Anderson (knew Joe through classes; Bev through Seventh) last night. It was nice to see them. Joe's in a Ph. D. program through UT Med, and Bev's a teacher's aid. As I expected, they're a pretty tame couple—I won't be taking them out for drinks any time soon.

I'm going to Waco for Leslie's wedding this weekend (but mainly to see Bryan and Lisa, and whoever else is around). And Sabrina's coming into town next week (to pick out what will hopefully be her future residence)! Ladies and gentlemen, it will rock. Oh yes. It will.

Another party

So on Friday, Chris's (of Lauren & Chris) roommate Robbie was having a birthday party at their place. I was hoping for the booze-drenched, number-getting extravaganza of the last episode, but things ended up being rather slow. Funny, a keg of Shiner usually inevitably means a good, quality party.

But around 11:00, when the number of people was still under ten, I was getting a bit worried. It was eventually decided that we would be attempting to merge the party with another going on across town near the Heights. Also, an important detail, I had let Chris use my cell phone earlier in the evening, and then people started calling him back on it. When it came time to leave for the other party, he had already taken off ahead of us—with my cell phone. A few of us loaded up the booze and took off in someone's car.

We arrived at one of those newly-built apartments that bear a resemblance to an Ikea showroom. It was very sterile—and so was the party. Now I was pretty drunk at this point, having attacked the keg earlier in the evening. Lauren took off to go get Chris somewhere, or something (details hazy) and I realized that I was at this strange party with only a few people that I vaguely knew, no car, and no cell phone. In my drunken state, I started to panic a little. Eventually, however, Lauren and Chris showed up, I got my cell phone back, and things were better.

Jill showed up at some point. Jill was the connection between that whole crew and Dana. I was drunk enough to try and interrogate her. I introduced myself, and she was about to walk away to go talk to somebody, but I told her that "we needed to talk". An almost complete stranger telling her we needed to talk? I scared her a little bit. She came back in a few minutes, and I said, "So. Dana." And then she knew—sort of—who I was. She offered to call and invite her (which she promptly forgot to do), but I did get to talk to her for a few minutes. She guessed that I had been stood up and basically told me it was no big deal. Made sure I was aware that Dana had a full-time job and went to school. Made sure I was aware that she was dating a guy that was "like sixty" (the age seemed to be going up quickly). Told me I should try to call her sometime. Told me that Dana mentioned that we talked for a while after the party, seemed to think that was a positive thing and that she was interested. When we parted, I told her to tell her to tell Dana to call me, but I wasn't entirely sure that would get passed along.

(I haven't called her—yet. Bryan set forth that he wasn't opposed to the idea, but that it was the competition of the forces of laziness versus the forces of gettin' some. So far, the forces of laziness and conflict-avoidance have won out. But you also have to remember that I have shit else going on. But I'm sure that most of my readers are opposed to the notion If you have better ideas, I'm glad to listen to them)

I had, thankfully stopped drinking by that point. I seem to remember a joint being passed around in the garage. Lauren and Kathering, I think had decided that IHOP would be an excellent idea (which it was). I remember trying to convince Chris that we should ride in the back of somebody's truck, although it turned out that there was a backseat, which wasn't nearly as exciting.

IHOP was good. The quick two egg breakfast (scrambled, wheat tost, bacon, but I forgot to substitute grits for hash browns) did me right.

Bryan, you'll be interested to know that I tried out Chris's breathalyzer. It was smaller than a cell phone; it could have come from Sharper Image or something. I tried it once, and it read .06. I tried it again later and it read .12. I'm not really convinced of its accuracy. Note to self: always ask for the blood test.

It was late when I got home. I slept late Saturday morning, went to do laundry, picked up Chipotle for dinner, and then parked my car by my mail box. I was going to go in, eat, drive up to school, finish up the first of the two grant thingies that the boss had requested, and then make it up to Mary Jane's in time for the Of Montreal show.

It was not meant to be.

Lab rat

Thank God "Six Feet Under" came back in time to take over for the OC for a couple of months. I went to Dan and Kristin's on Monday night, we ordered some pizza, I took back a little of the wine I gave Dan for his birthday, and we checked out the permier episode of the new season. And it was... well, there was exposition they had to get out of the way. It's sort of sad that these characters still have to be tortured. Maybe they can wind up with a little peace by the end of the season. I remain hopeful for both that and some compelling and entertaining insanity before hand.

Afterwards, we took off to Poison Girl for some beer and a heated but very fascinating conversation about male versus female sexuality and the extent to which each sex needs to be free to make their own mistakes versus protected from making big ones. The most interesting thing is the extent to which my assessment of society's take on sex and young men and women's knowledge of and experience with it varies from everybody else's by virtue of growing up in Waco.

Occasionally we get requests by e-mail to be the subject of various experiments. I had volunteered to be a part of a follow up to this study on Tuesday afternoon. The idea is to take MRI images of the brain when the subject is drinking either Coke or Pepsi. The experimental group knows what they're being given; the control group does not. There's also a portion where you state your preference in a blind taste test rather than having it measured based on your brain's response; I'm sure that controls for something. Anyway, the study, in addition to being a great way to get national press for your lab, showed more or less that we enjoy something more when we know that it's something that we enjoy—Coke drinkers brains light up more (or something) when they know they're drinking Coke and less when they know they're drinking Pepsi, while the responses are more neutral when they're not as sure what they're being given. Or, at least, I think that's the deal. I haven't actually read the paper yet.

I went in thinking that I would have no problem distinguishing the two. It turns out, though, that they were using diet, which I'm afraid completely threw me off. After the initial taste test, they took me to the MRI machine and strapped me in. They attach the two straws (one for each soda) to a pacifier to help you hold it in your mouth while you're imobilized. It was like a return to being a baby... or like being a raver. One of the two.

They have a mirror above your head, tilted back so that you can see the computer screen at one end of the MRI machine. It has the side effect of filling most of your field of vision and keeping you from seeing the rest of the environment, and since you can't really move anyway, it pretty much kills any clostrophobia concerns, which is always nice.

Anyway, since I know you're all curious, here's my brain:



Wednesday passed without much incident. I had a review for my Fellowship which went swimmingly. I went to Lowe's to buy some large nuts and rubber washers to use in place of expensive brass footers underneath the sub. Sadly, however, my super glue has dried up, so I wasn't able to finish the project.

I also spent another evening waiting by the phone, this time for Charlene to call so I could find out what's going on over in Japan. It turns out that we were having technical difficulties, though, which is good because I was afraid that maybe all the women of the world had decided not to call when they said they would. It was brief moment of irrational panic; I know Charlene would never do such a thing to me.

Today has been mostly uneventful. I've been trying to get some stuff done in lab, only to be stymied at every turn. Because of the extent to which some of my work builds on what's come before, I end up recycling a lot of old data. I e-mailed a guy in the lab to get the data from him. He could have sent me an attachment and an explanation of the organization and the formatting of the data.

First he tried sending me a list of the proteins and getting me to generate the data myself. Then he sent me the location of the data on our server for me to download myself, which I didn't have permission to access. Any question I ask him is answered with information that might, say, solve my problem if I wanted to waste half my life reinventing the wheel. I do better with this guy in person because I can tell him when to stop rambling on and prod him into answering my actual questions, and bug him directly with follow-up questions when necessary.

However, he's been working from home since the boss left the country. I haven't seen him at all this week. Insead, I've exchanged on the order of 15 e-mails with him today, of varying but consistently low utility. That, coupled with the incomprehensible behavior of some code I've written, has lead to much cursing, pounding on the desk, fist making, and a general desire to smash something or someone. But hey, the day's almost over. I don't have to worry about this shit for a good 16 hours.

Austin

By the time Stephanie IMed me on Friday afternoon to meet her at the coffee shop, I recognized that I was going to accomplish nothing before I left for Austin, so I embraced it. Stephanie filled me in on her new relationship. She's gotten serious. Really serious. Moving in together in August serious. I don't understand how someone can be so adamant in one direction and then so quickly not only do complete turn in the other direction, but speed that way and never look back. She's fucking crazy.

The goal was to be at Dan and Kristin's by 3:00, originally, so I went to catch the 1:45 bus... and it never came. By 2:00, I had given up and decided to take the Houston Metro, which went relatively smoothly, if not quite as homey as the shuttle. But by the time I got home, the departure time had been moved back to 3:30, then 4:30. Their laundry took longer than expected, but we finally left around 5:30... and then Kristin had to stop by the Gap to return something. Why it had to be done that day, I never quite figured out.

But I can't complain about a free ride to Austin. There was no real hurry anyway. And as we drove away, I realized how great it was to get out of Houston, and as we arrived, I realized how great it was to be back in Austin.

I got dropped off, waited for Rebecca to grace me with her presence, and then it was off to Trudy's for their Mexican Martinis (a shaker full of margaritas). Two of those and I was feeling quite good. We went to the Showdown Saloon, had a couple of beers, and then went back to Rebecca's place ("Salado", as they call it, as that's the street it's situated on) for more beer at "The Back Porch" (pretty sure the capitalization is required). By that time, the margaritas had hit me (well, us) full force, and we elected to retire relatively early. The bed Rebecca had secured for me was at her friend Kelly's place. The "room" was actually a loft, and it's a miracle that in traversing the ladder, I didn't do myself serious injury in my drunken state. It could have ended really badly.

So Rebecca wanted to show me the new Whole Foods, where we ate lunch. I couldn't resist their pizza, so I had that and a salad. Everything looked really good, though, and I had a tough time deciding. The place itself was an amazing monument to... well, Whole Foods, I guess. They had built their own creek running on their outdoor patio. We had some of their freshly-made gelato (avocado for me, which was surprisingly tasty), and then walked across the street to Waterloo Records, where I did some serious CD shopping (and ended up with the new Youth Group album, to which I'm totally addicted; the new Love as Laughter album, and an old Magnetic Fields album).

Both places, I noticed how much more the scenery (and by scenery I mean girls) fit my tastes than it does here. Maybe all of my girl problems are just a function of geography.

While I had Rebecca available as my determined advisor, I was determined to pick up a couple of new items. I wanted a second pair of jeans (my wardrobe is small these days, owing to the large portion that's boxed up since it's too big), and I had only one pair of jeans that fit properly. We had some luck at Express; I found a pair that looked good and violated my vow to never again by a pair of button fly pants (which are a huge pain when you're drinking—they demand too much coordination). By the time I checked out and discovered they were half off, I had no regrets.

I was, however, out of luck when it came to finding a new casual blazer and a new pair of tennis shoes.

Rebecca's friend Lauren was having a birthday barbecue, so we visited Central Market next for some salsa-making supplies. I needed to pick out dinner, too, so I was eying a pinwheel steak when the cute girl working the meat counter struck up a conversation. She sold me on some of their fresh sausage; I opted for the cilantro and the andouille. The cilantro ended up being a bit bland, but the andouille was excellent.

The barbecue was nice, but I was a little out of my element. There had been some talk of going swimming at the mansion that somebody was housesitting, but by the time we left the barbecue, Rebecca was pretty dead. I was never able to hook up with Dan and crew, or Courtney, so it ended up being another early night.

Rebecca and Kelly had a friend that they wanted to meet, so we joined Jessie for lunch at Katz's ("Katz's Never Kloses"). Rebecca and I indulged in the bargain $4.50 top shelf bloody marys. Our flaming waiter was very entertaining. My burger was good. Jessie seemed nice, although the original agenda of setting me up with her fell away due to a lack of time and some guy she'd recently met. At least they were trying, though.

Jessie gave us a ride back, though we made a brief detour to used CD establishment Cheapo, where I miraculously found another Love as Laughter album. I owed Rebecca a birthday present, so we went to Fry's in search of a DVD player.

On the way back to Rebecca's place for me to help set it up, I got a call from Dan and Kristin, letting me know they were ready to leave early. Thus, a not entirely successful frantic combination of packing and home theater setup ensued. I said my goodbyes and headed back to Houston.

So there's the sterile-but-thorough Austin account for you.

To make it up to you...

Because of my ceaseless bitching lately, I thought I would regale you with an old anecdote from high school. I've been intending to do this more often.

Thomas, David and I were at Taco Bell. David and I sit down at a table. Thomas sets his food down and goes to the soda fountain to fill up his drink. The minute he's gone, David steals one of his tacos and takes a large bite out of it.

Thomas is, of course, the least bit frustrated. So he goes back through the line, buys another taco, returns to the table, sets it on his tray, and starts to sit down.

During that brief moment that the taco is outside of Thomas's direct supervision, David lunges after it. A struggle over the taco ensues. Despite Thomas's strong hold on it, David gets it close enough to his mouth to take a bite of it.

At this point, it's important to note that the taco is still wrapped. David bit through the paper in order to win the taco struggle. The battle of wills won, David enjoyed his second pilfered taco, and Thomas contented himself with whatever other food items he had procured.

This is a fairly illustrative incident of David's resolve to acquire free food during our high school days. Often on Wednesdays we would go to lunch at Mazzio's Pizza. David would never pay for the buffet. He would sit at the table, and barter his waiting services, getting refills for others, in exchange for their bringing him some requested slice of pizza from the buffet.

There was also the time we arrived at Buzzard Billy's to meet some people as they were finishing up their meal. Matt Kinard was finishing up his steak, and all that remained of it were the fatty pieces he had left behind.

David ate the leftover fat.

Now, of course, he makes more money than any of us with his investment banking gig, though to be fair, he's the only one of us that has a real job going on. And most of it goes to the higher cost of living that comes with being in New York. But regardless, keep your food carefully guarded. He's probably still not too proud to bite through the paper if necessary.

Ward is not amused...

I'm very surly today. It's a holdover from last night. Nothing in particular is wrong; I'm just feeling generally pissed off and irritable. Perhaps this should be my new thing. Dark and brooding certainly seems to play well with the indie set (see also: Death Cab; any generic emo band).

This is exactly the kind of bullshit that I hope so desperately is wrong but that experience has taught me to fear is right. There certainly seems to be a correlation between that kind of attitude and an ability to get women. I have other theories, but they're not particularly encouraging, either. It could be that the latter causes the former, or that both are associated with physical attractiveness. In any case, it doesn't really help anything.

Thankfully, I'm getting the fuck out of town this weekend. I think I need it. Possibly desperately. I'm going to have to cut some work to get out with Dan and Kristin, which is pushing things a little since I got an e-mail from the boss last night asking for an update, and he probably thinks that I worked last weekend. Ah well.

So what, exactly went wrong last night? I'm not quite sure. Lauren and Chris, as well as Holly, had invited me to see the (International) Noise Conspiracy at Mary Jane's last night, and I thought that two invitations was probably a good sign, so I went. We started out the evening at Late Nite Pie, and in an effort to be good, I got a salad and a slice of pizza instead of, say, two slices. There was nothing wrong with the salad, exactly (except for being a melting pot of mixed greens instead of representing the sweet purity of romaine lettuce), but it just didn't do the trick. And neither did anything else last night.

I always worry a little bit about what happens when my different social circles collide. Certainly, I was a bit uncomfortable with Holly trying to push me towards Lauren all evening. Subtlety, baby. And I wasn't exactly in the right mood to listen to the conversation she started about how Lauren and Chris got together. And then her incessant attempts to get everybody dancing during the show. And her attempts to commandeer their next party and redirect it to her place (which is not nearly as amenable to a party atmosphere). I think she was just getting on my nerves in general, probably because I was particularly irritable last night.

Anyway, (I)NC was enjoyable enough. They certainly brought the rock, though their (in their own words) "Swedish commie pinko faggot" leanings were a bit heavy handed. I appreciate that you're trying to change the world, kids, but start small. The crowd was huge last night, too, which was surprising. That probably got on my nerves, too.

After the show, Dan and Kristin were headed to the Proletariat for further goings-on. There was a cover, and I debated whether or not going was wise, but I went. French/German oddballs Stereo Total were playing their weird dance-pop-punk stuff, and the place was the most crowded I'd seen it since the Broken Social Scene Show—that is, completely fucking packed. I enjoyed seeing D&K for a few minutes, but ultimately was pretty tired and cranky and just wanted to go to bed. It really wasn't the best evening for me to try and be social.

I woke up with pretty much the same feeling today. It will pass, I suppose. I realize that my writings lately have consisted mostly of bitching, so, as a change of pace, I want to thank Charlene for the wonderfully sweet things she wrote upon receiving the very modest gift of a few burned CDs that I had sent her. Who can stay surly while thinking of the cuddly ball of wonderfull happiness that is Charlene? Certainly not I. Thanks a lot. I needed it yesterday, and I needed it today, too.

Well, time to be productive so I can go to Austin. Just had to do a little bitching first...

Update: Feeling better now. Don't know what my problem was.