Game On

I'm back.

Refreshed & rejuvenated? Not necessarily. I haven't found some new inspiration, no muse.

I guess I just like to hear myself talk, er, write. You know what I mean.

I'll be honest - in my mind, my last post really was my last post for a long time. Regardless of what happened, I didn't feel like anything was worth writing about. Not in that sulk-in-the-corner, "life is hopeless" kind of way, but more in that "eh, who cares" kind of way. It took me a while to figure out why that was and how that was wrong.

When I've written blogs, I've written them with only one person usually in mind - me. I write what I feel; sometimes serious, sometimes light-hearted, sometimes straight-forward, sometimes cryptic.

Somewhere, I changed who I was writing for. I started writing for you. I was writing to keep up with friends and family back home. Hence, this became more of a weekend recap and less of a blog, and as a result, it became more taxing. Especially when the weekends weren't exciting. If it wasn't all that great in real life, it's not going to sound that great in words.

Anyways, I'm feeling better about keeping up a blog, as regularly as I can, because I realize what makes me enjoy writing - writing just for myself. I won't use this as a medium to keep up with my friends. I miss you all dearly, but friendship via a blog is a lousy way to stay friends. If you care enough, you can reach me at ralphwiggum4pres@yahoo.com (or anonymousballz@yahoo.com - more on that later). Or via phone, which I won't post on the internet, but you now have means of obtaining that if you don't already have it. I won't make any declarations or demands for frequency; just drop a line whenever you can. I'll do the same.
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With that said, let's update you on my weekend!

No, seriously. I'm no hypocrite - there's a story to be told here. And it starts around noon, Thursday.

I left work early. I had a strange nauseous feeling throughout the week, and it amplified right around lunchtime. Maybe it had to do with that maple bar I had at our company meeting. By 1:30, I realized I was going to be spending more time in the restroom than I would at my desk, so I postponed my duties & bused it home. I was bummed because I was going to meet some friends at a bar at 4pm to watch the NBA Draft, but I instead I had to spend the rest of the day on the couch, alternating between moans and sprints to the bathroom.

I took Friday off as well to recover, which I had by about 1:30pm (Thanks, Maalox!). Good thing too, as I had made dinner reservations at Daniel's Broiler for the girlfriend and I to celebrate our 17 month anniversary. Honestly, a 17 month anniversary isn't very symbolic, so if you're curious as to why I took her to a fancy steak dinner for this anniversary, the answer is this: I knew I'd be too broke to do it for the 18 month one. So I decided to splurge while I had the chance.

A car payment and a food coma later and we headed back home to recoup in time for her friend's birthday celebration that night.

The next day, the girlfriend and I had a play to attend. Have I mentioned that I'm a regular theater-goer now? Strange, I know. I'm still not fully used to it yet, either. A quick explanation; Wac signed us up for this group that gets to attend about 5 plays a year, for free, and our only obligation is that we stick around afterwards and engage in "civic dialogue", as they call it, regarding the play and the issues surrounding it. I was quite skeptical at first, but it really is quite interesting, and I have been personally moved on many occasions by the discussions that are had.

And to think, my grandmother tried for so many years to make me more culturally diverse. She'd be so proud.

So, we spent our Saturday afternoon, a gloriously 70-something degree day, indoors, at a play. After that, we headed to yet another birthday celebration on Mercer Island, a small community in the middle of Lake Washington.

And a very wealthy one at that.

Mercer Island is where athletes, politicians, CEOs, and the rest of King County's wealthy live (minus Bill Gates). Most homes here are easily seven figures, maybe eight. And we were partying at one of these houses, on the lakeside.

You know you've made it when you have a carport in the front and a pier in the back.

So we sat back, ate some food (that we brought), drank some beers (that we didn't bring), and watched the other drunkards fall all over themselves playing volleyball and badminton.

It was around this time that Wac commented something along the lines of "This weekend is strange. We're doing all these things that people our age don't do. Fancy steak dinners, Saturday afternoon plays, parties on Mercer Island". It was strange, like we won a contest that allowed us to live someone else's life for a day.

Fast forward to that night. Again, another birthday celebration, this time at a Mexican restaurant\bar. A crowded one at that; it felt like 100 people crammed into a broom closet. With a kareoke machine.

I'm not one for kareoke - I've still yet to do it (I'm waiting to relearn all the words to Whoomp! There It Is). And usually I abhor it. But throw me a couple Dos Equis and put on some Bohemeian Rhaphsody and I'm a different person.

Flashback Time - about 2 months after I moved up here, I was hanging out with my friend Erin and some of her cohorts, at a bar downtown, having a genuinely good time. Afterwards, we drove up to a hole in the wall called Beth's Cafe, where they make omelets in two sizes - 6 eggs or 12 eggs. It was around 1:30am and for whatever reason, I was feeling homesick. I sat at the table, depressed, wanting to be back in AZ, hanging out at Casey Moore's.

Then came Bohemian Rhaphsody.

It was about 2am when it came on, and the entire cafe just started belting it out. People were running up and down the aisles, yelling out the song at any table they came too. It was the most amazing thing I had ever seen. I couldn't help but smile. My homesickness went away.

Everytime I hear that damn song, I think of that time, and I belt it out too now. And last Saturday night, that I did.

Wac and I left the bar sometime during the midnight hour and, in good drunken spirits, headed back home. Wac went to check her email, and somehow, the idea of sending her boss an email, an anonymous one, came up. That's when I had the greatest idea I've ever had.

Anonymousballz@yahoo.com

There we were, at 12something in the morning, creating a new, fake email account to use for something, someday. We never got the stones to send her boss an email, maybe one day. Maybe one day, you'll receive an email too.

I should note that, at this point in the morning, it was July 1st. Officially, it was two years since my first arrival in Seattle. And there I was, with my girlfriend, laughing hysterically at the creation of our new email address - the proof that, despite the activities of the past 24 hours, we still knew how to have fun like the 20-somethings that we are.