So Friday night my friend Alison, who goes to Tennessee, came into town for the SEC championship game. She and I went to Taco Cabana for a few beers and then headed to Dantanas to meet up with our crew. It was like a weird highschool reunion; only two of the kids there didn't go to high school with me. It was very, very weird going out drinking with them, but in an awesome way.

I was supposed to go give Flux her birthdya present on Friday too, but that plan imploded when I ended up sleeping all day until Ali called me that night. Lame!

Anyway, after suffering through the usual combination of a hangover and Radioshack on Saturday, Kyle and I went to MJQ to see The Californias. It was our friend Mike's birthday, and in an awesome feat of drunken congeniality he managed to get about ten random people to buy him shots. I also managed some free beers from friends and, along with my trusty flask full o' whisky, I hit the dancefloor for The Californias.

After the show we headed back to the cars and were paused by some yuppy who needed a jump. His friend, who drove a BMW, was trying to use his BMW to jumpt he other car. "I don't think my car has a battery," he said, "I can't find it anywhere!"

Yes, German engineering has magically done away with the power source for all of the electronic components in your car AND the method of starting the internal combustion engine. Your car now runs on magic. Luckily, I knew that BMWs have a large peice of plastic plating over the engine compartment for some reason, so I told them that we needed a different car. Stupid yuppies who don't even look under the hood of their cars.

Anyway, after a few snarky remarks, we pulled my friend's car up, I attached the cables, and the car was jumped succesfully. Go, drunken automotive prowess!

So afterwards we waved goodbye to the yuppies and headed to Oakhurst for the party. All the way there Mike hung out the window and yelled obcenities at people. The only problem was that there weren't actually any people there, and he was too drunk to actually pronounce the obcenities; he was really jsut yelling "FUUUAAAAAAAHHHH!" out the window at no one. It was awesome.

The party was pretty cool. Danny from this band was there, which was cool because I haven't seen any of those kids in a long time. Mike ended up chugging an airplane bottle of scotch and suffering through the disasterous consequences. I ended up in the kitchen shooting the shit with this cute girl for a while and then forgetting to get her number. Ah well.

Kyle and I arrived home to a house full of our friends boozin' it up. The drinking continued to the early hours.

Sunday I got up and went to work and, despite a hangover that arrived fashionably late, managed to make an assload of money.

I've spent the time since then listening to John Lee Hooker and trying to learn some of his licks.