![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
...from the Biohazard weekend. Not too hungover, but pretty tired -- didn't get much sleep this weekend. Some of the activities (apart from anything related directly to drinking, which is self-evident):
Pool, music (from CDs), music (from our own instruments), poker (won around $15), video games, bags and bags of chips and other junk food. Juggling random objects. Juggling clubs. Juggling flaming clubs. Snow.
Mucho videos. The usual guy stuff like Caddyshack, Stripes, and a representative sample of the Mel Brooks contribution to cinema. Half a videotape of porn. Porn gets old real quick when you're 12 straight married guys alone in the woods -- poker, drinking games, and the pool table became much more...interactive.
I had to leave before 7AM to get to Pittsburgh in time for my flight. On the way out, there was a field of plowed corn with a dozen deer nibbling the stalks. They raised their heads, watched me pass, then went back to eating.
I got back to a 65-degree Atlanta. Can't pass up weather like this, so I fired up the grill and cooked a nice, bloody London Broil with a metric tonne of mushrooms.
I'm tired, but I'm punchy and energetic. I have a ton of email, most of which seems to be the helpful sort; offering to cure my acne, help me lose 100 lbs (which would put me at the weight of a mid-sized dog), make me rich, get me off, pirate my satellite TV, and sell me a billion other email addresses so I can increase the hit count to my non-existent web site.
Pool, music (from CDs), music (from our own instruments), poker (won around $15), video games, bags and bags of chips and other junk food. Juggling random objects. Juggling clubs. Juggling flaming clubs. Snow.
Mucho videos. The usual guy stuff like Caddyshack, Stripes, and a representative sample of the Mel Brooks contribution to cinema. Half a videotape of porn. Porn gets old real quick when you're 12 straight married guys alone in the woods -- poker, drinking games, and the pool table became much more...interactive.
I had to leave before 7AM to get to Pittsburgh in time for my flight. On the way out, there was a field of plowed corn with a dozen deer nibbling the stalks. They raised their heads, watched me pass, then went back to eating.
I got back to a 65-degree Atlanta. Can't pass up weather like this, so I fired up the grill and cooked a nice, bloody London Broil with a metric tonne of mushrooms.
I'm tired, but I'm punchy and energetic. I have a ton of email, most of which seems to be the helpful sort; offering to cure my acne, help me lose 100 lbs (which would put me at the weight of a mid-sized dog), make me rich, get me off, pirate my satellite TV, and sell me a billion other email addresses so I can increase the hit count to my non-existent web site.
