Hello, is there anybody in there? I haven’t updated my blog in what seems like months, but I’m going to make an effort to write more often from now on.  I’ve just been so busy lately that it’s been impossible to find the time to squeeze out an update.

For example, this weekend I single-handedly dismantled a terrorist network and assassinated the rogue Russian diplomat that controlled them.  In 18 hours of game play I won the war on terror.  How’s that for a withdraw timetable, Mrs. Pelosi?  Just set Iraq to Normal Difficulty and send me in; I’ll find Bin Laden and the WMD’s and be home in time for dinner. Perhaps Call of Duty 4 is going to my head; but if it’s wrong for an adult to wear camouflage an cookware on his head while camping out in front of the television all day screaming expletives at imaginary terrorists, I don’t really want to be right.

Playstation 3 could possibly be the end of what little motivation I had left.

I did manage to pry myself away from the war on terror long enough to go out with some friends last night.  Originally we planned on visiting the End Zone in State College, but half of our group bitched out before even we left town.  You know what they say: you can please some of the people all of the time and you can please all the people some of the time, but some people wait all week for better plans to come up and scumbag you at the last second.  That is what they say, right?  Don’t worry, I’m not bitter or anything.

So I go along with my roommate, his twat du juor, and one of his friends to Williamsport for dinner and a wild night on the town.  At some point we decided that it was worth the hour drive to eat at a restaurant that not only exists in our own town but isn’t even worth eating at anyway, so we pull in to Ruby Tuesdays to stuff our gullets. Apparently no one was listening to my infomercial for Ichiban’s Japanese steakhouse on the ride up, because I really wanted to go there instead.
After dinner we went to a bar called Benji’s.  There was nothing particularly special about Benji’s except that I got to see a lady in a wheelchair dancing, or as I like to call it, “treading imaginary water.”  I chuckled a little bit at first. Then I realized that it was actually really great that this woman wasn’t letting her disability ruin her fun and that I’m an awful person for finding her situation funny.  I’m also a bad person for secretly wishing she would have tried to ride the mechanical bull, but seriously, who can blame me?

Eventually we had mocked everyone at Benji’s and were forced to entertain ourselves elsewhere, so we drove down the street to the Cell Block. The Cell Block is not my kind of bar.  In fact I would have enjoyed myself more had they never converted it from a prison to a dance club.  Coincidentally I was tempted to shank half the people there, but it’s harder to break skin with the swizzle stick from a cocktail than you might think, especially when the people you want to shank are wearing a protective popped-collar which greatly inhibits your ability to make the shanking count.

Chuck’s girl spent much of the night dancing with an old man that looked like a bulimic Santa Claus. This guy looked as though he would crawl down your chimney and eat the cookies and milk, then proceed to gag himself with a candy cane he took from your Christmas tree.  He had a funny little dance that I’m hoping someone caught on camera.

Chuck’s friend Ryan was accosted by a drunk girl who made out with him all night at the bar.  Can I call it accosted? I guess that depends on whether or not she was cute.  I was accosted by a girl in Shamokin once, but she was large and I was too drunk to scream rape.  Ryan’s make-out buddy was cute, at least seen through the lenses prescribed by Dr. Jack Daniels.

But at the end of the night she ditched him, and that actually made me angrier than it made him.  I was appalled at the lack of follow through this girl presented.  If you’re going to be a beer slut then be a beer slut. Don’t get cold feet at 2:00 A.M. and go home with your boyfriend instead of the random guy you spent the night getting horning-up. Show some dedication! This girl was a disappointment to bar rats across the nation, and I was sure to let her know before we parted ways.

The evening ended with a scenic drive home through Lycoming, Union, and Snyder counties.  You know you never really appreciate the natural beauty of Pennsylvania’s highways until some drunk broad makes you stop at every mile marker to spit up Long Island Iced Teas.  I went to bed with a new appreciation of the Department of Transportation’s craftmanship, and a renewed disdain for college kids.