Living After Midnight

Rocking, to the dawn.


Mmmm...Judas Priest. Metal, without being too metal, if you catch my drift.

I was about to remind Steve that the Team Fortress Classic lock-in was done around 5, but I just remembered that it actually ran until 7:00.

So nevermind.

An interesting TFC tidbit, though: I used to go out of my way to make sure I wouldn't miss those meetings. Then, one week, we stayed home after spending a day helping some people move (or was it yardwork?). Well, that's as may be, because after we skipped that one week, we never went back.

Weird, huh?

Janice and I visited Steve this evening over at dad's. The dog was on some kind of overdrive, as he would not sit still, no matter what we tried. It's hard to have conversations when there's a large dog trying to give you a bath every 30 seconds. Sometimes, the aloofness of a cat is a good thing.

Speaking of cats, I think the impending Garfield movie is quite unecessary.

And speaking of Janice: we're going to visit the giant catsup (ketchup? catch up?) bottle in Collinsville on Sunday. Why? Well, duh, it's because she got straight A's last semester.

I mean, come on, people.

Steve got straight A's as well, so I'll have to do something nice for him, too. I think he's earned it.

I took a shower this evening, and came out to find my nose peeling from last weekend's sunburn. No one is allowed near me for the next day or so.

So, yeah.

To sum up the post so far: ketchup is a good thing.

Steve and I had a brief conversation the other night about grandpa, and how amusing it would be if he'd been around to start a blog. He used to keep a journal, but it was the most mundane thing ever written by man. Something like this:

7:28 a.m.--ate a bowl of Cheerios

9:52 a.m.--cut the grass

And so on and so forth. That would make for a fun blog, eh?

Well, maybe it's only amusing to me and Steve.

Gramps and I used to go fishing at Truman Park during the summer. We never caught anything, but we still would have a good time. I think, after my trip to Stockton with Michael Joseph, gramps was happier than anyone that I'd actually caught a fish (or two). He was, with good reason, a bit skeptical. Huzzah for cameras. He was far from a big hockey fan, but, since I enjoy it, he'd bring it up every so often, and ask how "your Blues" are doing. They were always mine. I should make some changes on that team...

I had no intention of talking about grandpa when I started typing.

And, as he used to say, it's about that time, so I'm gonna scoot.



that guy from Ipanema,
Dave