beer, ball and baptism

That was my weekend. Hung out with BJL, his buddy Will, and the King of Beers on Friday night. It was fun as hell, even if we were patronizing what may be the worst bar in NYC, a bar with a name like a Simpsons punchline, a bar where bands (Live, Bush, Blues Traveler, Collective Soul) that have been mathematically proven to suck still rule the juke box like it's 1994. Still, the Bud was cold and tasted as sweet as the first girl you ever kissed.

On Saturday I played ball. My leg was operating at like 82% efficiency but for some reason I freaking turned back the clock and played out of my mind. Shooting, rebounding, passing, even remembering to hydrate properly. Ma and Baby Bungle were there watching, maybe that was it. Whatever the case I need to bottle that shit and guzzle it every time I play. It felt like 1988 except that I wasn't wearing a T-shirt with a pink and blue Nike Air logo on it.

Then on Sunday I got baptized at 1st Presbyterian Church on 5th Avenue, former nursery school of Hans and DLee. Baptism and all that stuff is weird, standing there in front of all the people and getting publicly moistened. What really bothers me about church is how everybody except me knows all the rules and traditions and when to stand, what to say, where to go, etc. There was one point where everybody turns to each other and shakes hands and says "Peace be with you" -- only since I didn't know that was what you were supposed to say I just said, "How ya doin'?" At least nobody laughed.

Anyway, I'm going to heaven now so you can all kiss my ass.

At least I'm not making rock videos like this poor bastard:

That face is not selling tickets.

For ten GP's, which horrible hair-metal ballad did MDilly insist on defending to me in like 1990? (MDilly, please refrain from answering until 6pm CDT on Monday, February 12th, 2007.)

Also, DLee, tell us what we need to do to make the permit a reality. We will marshal whatever forces we need to marshal to make it happen. Give us names to write to, numbers to call, officials to bribe, low-level bureaucrats to blow. Canceling softball would be like canceling Christmas. It simply cannot happen.