Much Ado

I wake up to the familiar ceiling of my bedroom. Groggy from lack of sleep I reach over for my cell to call my hair stylist Janet. I haven't seen her since March. After my morning rituals I get to the bank to make my deposits, I turn in my blockbuster movies, and get to the mall. I wander around aimlessly forgetting how bad taste intertwines so well with the mundane. I must find a safe haven! Barnes and Nobles is my stop as I read some Frederick Neitzche's "Human, All to Human" as I wait for my appointment with my hairdresser to free up.
My Dad calls and we have a very intriguing conversation about religion and death. I forget how my Dad can make me feel not so alone in the world. We talk until my date with Janet's scissors beckons me. Four inches later I'm driving towards the new Hong Kong Market to buy some brown rice and korean food. I race home to eat some bulgolgi and pass out in ecstasy on my couch for an hour or two to regain my strength for the upcoming night.
I take my post haircut shower and await Alba for our expedition to Paul's house for the Cowboys vs the Eagles playoff game. We see the kick off at my abode and we proceed with his ritual of listening to the first part of the game on the radio in the car as we make a beer run. When we get to Paul's house with the champagne of beers we make our rounds and take our seats for the Cowboy's first victory in the playoffs in thirteen years. Its about damn time!
After the game we decide to go to Fat Daddy's in Mansfield. This will be my first time as is with most of us. Its a great place but the clientele seems to be out of place with our expectations. Most everybody is in their mid thirties to late forties. I see a couple of younger people but that just made me come to the conclusion that the prerequisite to enter the bar is that you have to have at least one kid. I lean to tell Paige and Matt that I guess we found where all the old people go to party! Keep this in mind that I'm jotting this down so I can come back when I am of age.

In Transit.

So yet again I have put off running and have opted to making sushi rolls with sliced hebrew national hotdogs inside of them. Tasty is really the only term deemed worthy of the bane of my labor. Warms my little half asian heart up! Just like some chicken noodle soup.
You know you think you know someone, after 1-6 years, but today I just found out my canine friend doesn't like cornnuts! To my previous hypothesis on the matter, I guessed I took it for granted that he would associate it with the likeness to his own food. Or maybe it was just because they were Ranch Style and not because of the texture. In any case, I'm sure he thoroughly enjoyed the remnants of the frankfurt rolls I tossed his way.
Chris and Adam arrived to kick it and hash about the philosophies of the universe again. The plot for cowboys, the church as a perfect business, and famous asians from Mr. Miyagi to Tila Tequila were the subjects of the night. After debating much in the same direction we proceeded to the countdown for the Rashad Evans vs. Thiago Silva fight this weekend. Man, those documentaries on the fighters and their training for the upcoming fight can really get you hyped up for a UFC match! Can't wait!
I really thought the day was going to be overshadowed by an angry snowfall, but the truth of the matter is, that it couldn't even hang after it hit the ground. The grass in my neighborhood was slightly covered with a frosted slush, and the rest is just a cold wet. I even imagined that work might let me out early like school used to when we were kids and I would have time to be lazy while the sun was still up. A man can still dream. Even if they are for ridiculously short termed rewards.