Wednesday. Half way through another glorious work week. I'm sitting at my desk, trying to kill time. But, much to my chagrin, time seems to be somewhat immortal, as it just keeps coming at me. I try to think of things to pass the day, as I'm not in the mood to work. I try to write a blog, but am at a loss as to what to write about. I could write about my coworker's massive camel toe, but I don't want to think about it more than I have to. I could write about how I went to lunch at Taco Bueno and was disappointed that my taco wasn't actually bueno. Or I could write about what I did last night. Which I just might do.
I left work at 5:15, planning on swinging by Jimmy's house and taking him out to Rockwall to hang with our friend Josh
, but alas, Jimmy had to work on a website for a class and, not being an HTML maven, couldn't handle the fat lines of code and was forced to stay home. So, I ended up going it alone. It's a short trip down I-30 to Rockwall and Lake Ray Hubbard, so I passed the time by listening to the most wrong show on radio, The Russ Martin Show
on 105.3. As I approached the absurdly long, yet somehow lovely, bridge that crosses the lake, I dialed up Josh on the ol' cell phone and agreed to meet him at Starbucks.
I arrived before he did, so I killed time by flipping through USA Today and watching a family of fat Eastern Europeans argue about their cell phones. Josh finally arrived and we went to a Cajun catfish place called, in a somewhat-uninspired fashion, Cajun Catfish. Not being a Cajun myself, I ordered the fried oysters. They were somewhat tasty. I was tempted to try this restaurant's self-proclaimed "World's Greatest Bread Pudding", but decided against it, as it's been my experience that whenever anyone or anything proclaims itself as the "World's Greatest" something or the other, it's rarely true. For instance, Muhammed Ali once said "I'm am the greatest". Now, one would assume that he was talking about his boxing abilities, but notice how he didn't actually say "I'm am the greatest boxer". This is because he wasn't. In fact, he's the world's greatest at uncontrollable shaking, at talent that doesn't lend itself to great boxing, but does help in churning butter.
After dinner, Josh and I went to Doc's Lake Shack for beer and conversation. Our waitress, a Jodie Foster clone, informed us that they had soft tacos at three for $1.59. That would've been nice to know about 45 minutes earlier before we went to the catfish place. A good waitress would've gone out of her way to find us at Starbucks and let us know that her restaurant was offering cheap tacos. At some point during the evening, we did witness a near-drunken bar fight, as an old guy and a young guy nearly got into it. We never really learned what the issue at the heart of the matter was, but I think it had something to do with the old guy calling the young guy a "faggot" for wearing an earring. Or something like that. At any rate, the old guy drove off before it could escalate. Very disappointing.
All in all, it was a fun evening. Beer makes things better, for the most part. I'm eagerly looking forward to my next chance to drink. Does that make me an alcoholic? Who cares...I like to trivialize things such as alcoholism.