Birthday Bash is this weekend.  Should be fun--though I'm only going on Saturday...  Maybe I'll go sit outside tomorrow and cruise for a bit.  Tried to find a hotel yesterday but yeah, it was too late and everything is booked--that is unless you're willing to walk from past Fort DeRussy to the Shell (which I'm not).  Hopefully Dalen's mom can hook us up, but I doubt it--Sean was supposed to ask him.  I don't know what it is, but something just isn't right rigth now.  No one prepared for the bash; no one got tickets 'til real late; no one got a room--it's like:  are you going to birthday bash?  yeah.  do you have your tickets?  no.  you better hurry, it's in a couple of days!  oh yeah, I hope they don't sell out--I think I'll go tomorrow.  I think the problem is that everyone is growing up and because of this it's harder to get all associated parties together in one place such that we can discuss our plans, instead we play a complicated game of phone tag--racking our brains trying to multi-task and coordinate all the while burning those crucial peak hour minutes.  I don't know, sometimes I really believe the saying if you want it done right, you better do it yourself but where's the fun in doing anything by yourself?  Believe me, if it were true, I'd do everything right, but no one would ever see me.  So what's the moral of the story?  No man is an island.  Birthday Bash is this weekend and it's time to get fucked up!

Fish or cut bait?

Yeah, that's all I got...

So yesterday at 24 I was doing shoulder press in front of the mirror and I look behind me and there's this girl on the bench--spread eagle--showing her aloha to the world.  She wasn't spectacular or anything, average build, long legs, not-bad face, but there was something about her I couldn't take my eyes off of--cough--pink panties.  So I'm walking to the water fountain during my rest between sets and I walk past her bench and give her the once (more) over.  We make this awkward eye contact and I say 'oh, excuse me', small kine embarrassed for getting caught checking out her goods, but she says 'no don't worry about it, it's fine' and shoots me this smile.  So I ask her for her name and tell her mine and started chatting for a bit.  I asked her what she was doing after her workout and she said nothing so I asked if she wanted to grab something to eat at I don't know Genki?  She accepted, so I finished my workout and met her outside in the parking lot.  Dinner was pretty standard--Genki is Genki--but we had this great conversation about knowledge and experience--slightly going into my pro-bud propaganda--and I think we really hit it off.  As we were leaving I asked if she'd like to go out again and if I could call her sometime so she gave me her number and asked if I could give her a ride home (she lives by Kastel and jogged to 24) so of course I did.  We got in the car and it was kinda dank still yet from the jay I essed on my way to 24 and she asks 'when did you smoke in here?'  I explained to her how much better my workouts were after I smoked and asked if she wanted to hit it.  Suprisingly she said yes so we parked on Namoku St (right off of Mokulele Dr) and I packed a bowl and we started to smoke.  She was having some diffuculty with the carb so I said she should shotgun it (one person takes a rip and kisses the other except exhales instead of sucks).  She took a couple of those and got pretty toasted--I was already doin aiight since I took twice as many hits as she and we were kickin it.  Now, a gentlemen doesn't really go into details but at the end of the night, I got home, passed the fuck out, and yada yada yada, I was late to work again.  The moral of the story:  self-depricating lies are far more believable than those that boost yourself in any way, shape, or form.