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Wednesday, 18 January 2006

Tonight was challenging to say the least. I mean, the biggest pet peeve I could come up with for the game was that women who wore pointy shoes bothered me.

Too obvious? Reader?

Mostly tonight was tough because Will wasn't there. It figures, and on the day when I finally get the courage...

Nevermind. I need to sleep. A couple shots of tequilla and I'm done, folks.

I'm so very done.

Monday, 16 January 2006

It's good to be back in South Bend. All my friends, or those who let me pretend, are here. Yippee! But at the same time, it's back to the same old story of confusion, love, and pain.

My welcome began in the typical fashion. A struggle. A sack. A typical Sunday evening for anyone, I feel. When Joe, Will and Adam burst into my room, I was instantly excited, only to be disappointed once more, realizing the kidnapping was for their own amusement, not mine. Although, I was... um... amused...

As I was pinned into submission, I was surprisingly aroused. Um, by Chelsea. Yeah, cuz Chelsea was there, too. Then I was led, in darkness to await my fate. I was terrified, mostly because I wasn't sure if Joe had turned off my television. As I was forced in the back of the car, I knew this would be a night I would never forget. Tonight, I just might become a man. Um, again.

What makes a man? What do you think, reader?

Sadly, once more my expectations were utterly wrong. No, it was drinking for us. Lots of it. The damned alcohol, and BEER at that! Honestly, who drinks that primitive sludge? Fortunately, I was able to pour most of it into the couch without anyone noticing, with a technique called "the Melinda." Granted, I had to sleep on the couch later, but we'll get to that.

Stay with me, reader. It gets worse.

Or better?

No, mostly worse.

Anyway, I pretended to care about football for a while, but mostly admired the uniforms. And for the record, that color is teal, dammit! Freaking carolina blue. Right.

And those pants....

But nothing was as inspiring as Jimmy Johnson's bold hair statement. It's the kind of thing I've always wanted to try. Maybe I will. What do you think... reader?

We continued drinking, and after an entire beer, things got hazy. Flashes from the night: Joe took my pants. I am Hermione, and a quiz agrees. My sensitive skin demanded the silky touch that only pajama pants can provide. Somebody sucked dick for coke - not sure why that stood out for me. If I knew you could get THAT much for it... um...

I woke up alone, reader. Again. The dreams I had, I shan't speak of here. Yet. The dreams that dare not speak their name...

But today was a new day. The revolving door turns, and turns. And life goes on.

Right?

Reader?

Monday, 12 December 2005

What can one say about a guy like Lancy?

First, that we love him. No doubt about it, he's one of the best friends a guy - or girl - could ask for. Devoted, trustworthy, fun... the kid's got it all.

But what's going on just underneath the surface? What secrets lie beneath that calm, cleanly shaven, carefully tailored exterior? Who's the man behind the metro?

The following is truly a unique endeavor. As behavioral analysts, we will be taking our notes of dear Lancy's behavior and constructing what we believe will be a comprehensive inner dialogue of a truly tortured genius. Explore with us, if you dare, the realms of the unknown, as we embark on this journey we call "The Lancy Blog."