So what no one else mentioned about the Yard House was that the waiter was cute as hell (not that you can tell from the photo). Five or six more beers and I'd have been more than happy to fuck that boy nine ways to Sunday...and if we'd been in WeHo instead of the LBC, I might've had a chance (they say gay men will forgive quite a bit for an uncut cock). Then again, looking at the photos from the digital, I'm probably flattering myself. I look fat in this photo and I can't be seen in this one. The beard also doesn't help. I was actually going to shave it, but I forgot the event was a lunch and not a dinner, so I ended up not having the time 'cause I dressed myself in five of the ten minutes it took Nick to show up. I don't know why he thought I was supposed to call his punk ass, since I thought we'd already agreed that riding with him was the plan, but apparently not. Of course, he forgot his wallet when he left the house, so maybe I shouldn't be surprised. Still, he doesn't seem to comprehend that I currently ride around with about 3 people; him, Erik, and Jean. That's it. Our beloved Clandestine is on the west side; unless she's passing through my area (re: down the 5 freeway), she ain't comin' anywhere near my ass. Same for just about everyone else on the planet, save the occasional kind, midwestern soul. Such is life. I don't imagine I'll see Kuszta again until I get myself a car and hunt him down myself, should I even be pursuaded to bother by then. He's seen fit to drift considerably and he and Keith occupy so much of their own universe that I don't know if I'd feel comfortable wandering through. Never can tell, though.

Anyway, back to the lunch. I had myself a good time and was actually able to pay my own way on the food angle, which was nice. I got my tax return back last week and I need to do some things with it...like buy pants. Many of my dark slacks are starting to fall apart and I no longer own more than one pair of jeans for some strange reason. I don't know how the hell that happened, but it's pretty fucked up, so I gotta rectify that. If anyone's got a line one where I can get a few pairs of bluejeans on the cheap, e-mail me soon. Seriously. Anyway, the bill was massive, 'cause the Yard House is kinda expensive and we were a shitload of people, but it was pretty decent, as usual. We were almost too many people, I think, though I think I was situated in a decent enough position and I moved a bit later to get a better "hi" to those I hadn't really talked with. Sort of.

ANYWAY, after that, Nick and I hung with Jean for a bit. She grabbed a tostada and a burrito (though she'd ordered a taco) and after munching away on that, we headed over to Starbucks for drinks. I picked up an application and was informed of the rediculous hiring process they appear to have (I have to truck out to Franklin & Highland to get hired at Fletcher & Glendale? WTF?), but I suppose I'll investigate it. I also noticed there's a Blockbuster opening on Hollywood and Western, but I don't think that's necessarily viable. I mean, I suppose I could try getting rides to work and walkung back, but...I dunno. Maybe.

We watched some freaky episode of the X-Files over at Jean's place after Starbucks before she went to see Attack of the Clones with her sorry excuse for a boyfriend. I am counting the days until she gets rid of his foolish ass, though lord only knows how things will go with the guy who's next in line. He seems nice enough, if a bit goofy, and he appears to have a lot going for him. Probably won't last a year, but that's just how these things go. Someone's got to date her, apparently, and it sure as hell isn't going to be. Even if she were interested, I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be a good idea. She's nuts.

Fuck...once again the sun has decided to rise. Ah well...off to the showers.