Ending One Minute At A Time

I feel an overwhelming urge to banter. The problem with that is that I am alone. You sort of need someone to banter with. It's the whole feed off of what someone else is saying. Sadly, there is no one to talk to at this time of morning.

I want to write. I know that is a general thing. I want to write in some capacity for a living. It would be great to get paid for inane monologue-ing.

This weekend has been weird, at best. Granted there hasn't been any sort of major drama or anything of the like to really complain about. Mainly, it was just a lazy weekend. I never did celebrate my actual birthday, and this weekend was the last chance really.

I sort of hate my birthday to a degree. It depresses me. There is always expectations with a birthday, and I never feel like I live up to them. There was one birthday when I had a party and did some ridiculous shit, but I don't remember doing half of it, so it doesn't count in my head. That birthday is also the reason I don't drink too much anymore. I had a habit of drinking vast quantities of hard liquor that have since subsided. I personally do not like blacking out. I don't care how fun I am with others while in that state. At least I am a happy drunk.

Still, I rarely make plans for my birthday. I sure as hell didn't do anything this year. I turned 30 and just left it at that. I am grateful to everyone that wished me a "Happy Birthday". I am even more thankful for those that went out of the way for cards and/or gifts. I don't really expect much. No one knows what to ever get me anyway. I usually shop for myself when it comes to fun things, like music or dvds. What I should have requested was mix cds. I did get one of those. I still have to listen to all of it. (Getting through 5 discs is tough sometimes without transferring all to my ipod.)

Friday night was rather tame. I spent the evening over a friends place watching the Olympics. We didn't do much. I didn't drink much either. A fair amount of people showed, and I left around 1:30 when everyone decided to head to bed. I just spent the rest of the night watching wrestling that I recorded earlier. Saturday was lazy as well. I woke up late and finally made it out around 7:30PM. I headed to the Gamestop to reserve a couple games for my nephew's birthday. I picked up something for myself as well, whenever I get a chance to play it. The worst part was parking, as there was no spots at the store. So, I walked for a couple hundred yards, or what felt like it anyway. After getting home, I spent the rest of my time watching episodes of The Guild on my Xbox 360. It's funny, and Flecia Day is heart-fully crush worthy. I wound up going out around 11PM.

The bar was fine tonight. There wasn't many people,b but a good time was had regardless. I spent the night talking with my friend, Joe. I also started to open my eyes to the bartender. She works there most Saturdays, but I'm not usually there then. Still, she was a cute. It didn't help matters that there really many other girls in the bar at all. That could have been a major point for my attention towards her. Still, the sole other girl at the bar bought me (and everyone else) a couple drinks, for which I am thankful.

Thank God. The hiccups went away. That part sucked. Apparently, I become the stereo-typical, cartoon version of an Irishmen while drinking. If only I had bubbles or something surrounding me, it would complete the appearance along with the hiccups and red nose.

Well, that's all I got for the moment. I guess the writing desire has passed. Maybe inspiration will hit me when I awake. I wouldn't hold my breath though.