ello’ Tumblr! I thought we’d never meet again. We sure have a lot to catch up on! As it turns out, we’re about to become he best of friends, so forgive me for not calling. Yesterday I started thinking about my online persona and social networking as a whole, and how it detaches me from what is happening right now. I hate how dry and impersonal it all is. Example! Over the weekend I was in Isla Vista, CA when I walked up to our car to find an award, for parallel parking! I do park a mean parallel. I thought it was hilarious and immediately thought, “I must Twitter this!”

That’s scary, at least to me. That I couldn’t sit there and just enjoy my little award, but instead take a picture and “tweet” it. I was detached from the situation and in my own little Twitter-iPhone world. What is that? So, I am deciding to make a radical shift in how I go about my daily life. I deleted my MySpace and Twitter pages yesterday, effectively cutting me off from my entire social networking hemisphere. Its liberating! I’m even going to text-message less, we’re sticking to *shutter* real voice conversations here! It’s exciting, yes. At the same time, I feel old. Nevertheless, you - Tumblr, are my only online presence. A simple window inside my world for those who actually take the effort to find you, a faucet to get a former scribbler writing again for me. Lets see how this works, shall we? Maybe we’ll throw a party!

“Where’s the party at?” asks an older, well to-do gentleman buying a $25 bottle of wine at MGA liquor.

“Care to help us out?” I probably look pretty annoyed right about then. Kegs are heavy buddy, lend a hand.

He politely declines. You see, he was wearing a new shirt. Ass.

I don’t really know Lulu too well. At all, actually. But when I see her, I think Jessika. Does that ever happen to you? You meet someone and you automatically think of someone else. I suppose that’s how Lulu knew me. Word around town is that she isn’t very well versed in the language of the party, so when she would finally throw one, it had to be right. That involved a keg. The one in the back of Paul’s car, en route to her house. Two hours too late.

The party itself would be more accurately described as a get-together, a kickback, a meeting of unlike minded people. One where my cousin and I were the oldest attendees, which is a testiment to the ages of those surrounding us. These kids didn’t understand the concept of beerpong, let alone the complexities of a jello shot. The morning after could have been taken directly out of some highschool movie.

Girl throws party. Girls father comes home early next morning. We must sneak out by hopping backyard fence. We then sneak in to reclaim keg. All without laying eyes on father, and vice versa.

After napping, my cousin and I realize we still have half a keg to consume. But after five straight days of alcohol consumption [spring break], the idea of more was nauseating. We had quite a dilemma on our hands. Drink the rest of the keg, which would involve enlisting the help of numerous others. Or return it, half-full - and be stricken with shame for the rest of our lives, then be punished in hell. And so the calls began.

Soon enough, a stark realization set in. We were actively trying to get rid of a keg. That in and of itself did not sit well. But after our extensive alcoholathon, we were desperate. In my own deleriousness, I named our keg - Bender. He seemed to sit there, mocking us for our inability to party. At one point I heard “Kiss my shiny metal ass!” That was it, we needed drinkers, and fast.

After an hour of texting and making calls, we napped. The bait had been set, and we waited. Sure enough, Anthony & Co. were glad to help, they just needed to time to assemble the troops. I awoke to dinner and the invitation to help conquer Bender. But I couldn’t, and went home in shame. Even after a day of rest, there was no way my liver could withstand more. So I stayed home, on a friday night, during Spring Break. Bender haunts my dreams to this day, and I don’t think I’ll ever be the same. With that, I leave you with one question.

Who the fuck buys wine at a liquor store?

Comcast - How do you like me know!?

As of late, I hold a strong fascintaion with conversations where nothing is really said. Call me flippant or glib or whatever, but there is something very interesting about nothing. Observe.

Q : What do you think of Heather?

She’s a nice girl.

Wow, look at that! At first glance, It looked like I said something. But I didn’t. I used a common word, in this instance “nice”, that over the years has conveyed so many meanings that it no longer means anything at all. I could have been saying that she looks like a rabid dog, or that she smelled funny - like weed.

Q : Where is our relationship going?

“Well, it’s like this you see, I’m interested in you, but at the same time it’s tough - because I don’t want anyone right now. But I get you, I really get you, and feel like you understand me too, but at the same time, you dont even know who I am.”

The ambivalence created by this technique relies on subtle (and not so subtle) self-contradiction. One thing is said, then the opposite is immediately asserted as true. This is especially useful when trying to rid yourself of a clingy fuck buddy.

Q : How is work going?

It is what it is.

Nothing says nothing like a catch phrase! The amazing thing about this one is how satisfied the prober is with the answer. They somehow understand what I’ve said, even though I haven’t indicated, even slightly, how work is going. Unemployment is grand, thanks for asking!