I crawl out of the rubble of Christmas. None the worse for the wear/war, I'd actually be so optimistic as to say: Better.
("better" meaning: better)
That's me. A regular old hopeful.
Because of this friendly feeling I'm nursing, I'm going to hold back from the nitty gritty of my holiday season. Hope it felt Christmasy to at least some...it doesn't seem to be the popular consensus.
I'm in Houston.
Till New Years.
Then I'll be on the Border.
My car is shaking like a small boy and I'm strapped for cash. Oddly enough, this too makes me feel hopeful.
This afternoon, after driving to one too many seedy little car shops trying to get the car realigned; Steve urging me to put on "some womanly charms" and get us some discounts(chauvanistic bastard), we found an even seedier little joint with the uninformative words Country Club painted in red above the door and which from under wafted the irresistable stench of Redneck. Sweet, sweet authenticity.
Played some pool and knocked back some brewskys. Even hit up the jukebox.
Score: 1 - 1
I lost a bet and decided instead of a pool shark, I'll settle for being a pool pirhana and COMPLETELY off the subject, the one thing wrong with being an athiest is that there's no one to talk to during an orgasm.