For a moment, I felt as if I'd pulled a muscle in my stomach. Kinda ow.

Anyway, first things first. There are a couple more test-things in my previous entry, so if you've already seen it, see it again. Or don't, if you don't care. Most people's journals are devoid of that kind of crap, of course, but I've always been the sort to break things up with a touch of humour, so not having them would, in a sense, make this journal less honest. I won't claim to be completely open here, but I will be honest. Most of the time.

So anyway, next thing's next, congratulations to our wonderful webmeister and his new wife. I'm sure it was almost as romantic a ceremony as when I watched that couple at Front Sight exchange 9mm Berettas instead of rings. (Scoff if you will, but it got me right where normal humans have their hearts...)

Before we continue, let me also mention that as I sit here typing this, the family's alpha cat, PJ, is chilling about a foot away, bathing his old (10 years, give or take) fat ass and purring because I'm taking the occasional moment to pay attention to him, something no one has done since my sister bore that hellbeast she calls a daughter. Leigh once referred to him as a thug, which was an apt description at the time. Now he's just a neglected furball with a racoon tail. Gone are his glory days of slaying small mammals, lizards, and birds. No longer does he sniff around my female friends for attention or walk across my back or legs while I'm fucking some hot chick. Yep, he's gotten old...with nothing but a mask and a saddle to show for it. Fortunately, he's not (yet?) crippled with cancer or arthritis or something.

Still, rather sad.

Ok, on to the real shit.

Tonight...I sat on my ass for a while waiting to get to this birthday party. Earlier I'd had a Carl's Jr lunch and then spent several hours hooking up my sister's various VCR's and new DVD player. I was keeping myself occupied, though, so I wasn't really bored, per se. Still, eventually they show and the vibe is bad. We make the pit stop so they can change and, many minutes later, it's safe to talk. The party was a pajama jammie-jam at this bar on Beverly called the Atlantic. The place was well-attended, the music was mostly jumpin' thanks to Our Man Mikey (who's sister is pretty damn cute, btw). Takes a Mai Tai and a song I actually recognize to get me on the dance floor with any real enthusiasm, but a Tokyo (like a Long Island, but with Midori instead of Coke) keeps the party rockin'. Think I fonud a new favoured drink on that one. So, much fun was had on the dance floor. Rico won the contest for Sexiest Male in his silk pajamas and Hefner-style robe-thing. Prize was a swimsuit calendar and a box of black (tuxedo?) condoms. Bastard that I am, I have nothing nice to say here, so I'll keep my trap shut.

We will, however, state that seeing Thea in lingerie is enough to make a Cardinal kick a hole in a stained glass window. Ah well...

So yeah, fun. There was even food; little turkey & swiss wraps all sliced and ready for primetime, in addition to pretzels, chips'n'salsa, and veggies w/dip. One wonders what the whole shabang cost.

Of course, Wendy's actual birthday is this coming Monday, so we'll be seeing many of the same people at the LK in about 42 hours, so that's cool.