So like’ it’s been forever since I’ve made an official entry. like you hadn’t noticed. I’m back to doing web stuff on the side and designing TShirts (obligatory plug). Some of stuff I love, the witty part of my brain is always working. I flip concepts and punchlines out of the ordinary like a Rubik’s cuber on autopilot. The other part of it, I hate, when it’s on demand. I hate doing shit on demand. That’s like a major thread in the fabric of my life. Being creative on demand, being courteous on demand, etc. So my soul is drained after the weekend of coming up with a functional design for a potential client.

Happy VD. I don’t have a sweetie to spend it with, and that is purely a 6 in one hand, 1/2 dozen in the other, when I live vicariously through people who are going through. As I listen to stories and dispense sage advice, I’m glad not the only one encountering crazy women. no, i’m not talking about YOU, dear reader. the other crazy women.

My plan: to treat my favorite person to a night out. That would be…me. Take myself out to dinner, buy myself a few drinks, take myself home, and … hey, I’m not that easy, i tell myself.

So I go to Outback, and I immediately think: BAD IDEA, 10 percent of Greensboro is trying to park and eat here it seems. I go way to the back where I’m not sure which business has clients back there and decide to turn around and head home when at the front a brotha at the Cingular place next door vacates and provides a prime spot.
I park and go in and everyone’s like “good luck” and the place is PACKED. but I head to the bar and there are 3 adjacent empty seats, because i guess if you love the person you’re not headed to the bar. I ate and it was good and got into a conversation with the guy next to me. What is it about the social constuct of a bar where a stranger wants to get in elbow rubbing proximity and start up a random conversation? I don’t get it.

Happy Birthday Cupid.