Well, since neither Angus nor gord have posted anything about last night's adventure, I feel free to write whatever the hell I want about.

The names are real, the quotes are real, the rest... well, you'll see.

The evening began with us assembling at my work (true) and throwing garbarge at my passing coworkers as they left the buillding. I actually managed to peg a few random strangers, as I have the crazy madness throwing arm, but I was actually aiming for Angus. No matter.

From there, we wandered off to try to accost a hooker, but she wouldn't take our money, no matter how much we offered. 'Twas a shame, but after we left, I saw her walk into Hooters, so maybe she wasn't a hooker, it's hard to tell.

It was while we were standing on the corner, waiting for the light to turn green that gord announced, completely out of the blue, "I look good in jogging pants!" (also true). I'm very serious when I say that this was a complete non sequitur, and it led to ridicule. Sorry gord. :)

Angus looked over and noticed that yes, indeed, gord did look good in jogging pants. In spite of the fact that his girlfriend was standing right there, Angus decided that now would be a good time to find out what gord kissed like when he was sober. So he reached over, grabbed gord by the ass and hauled gord to him, then planted a seriously hot kiss on him. I needed some time to myself once we reached the club, let me tell you.

Oh yes, I forgot to mention, we were on our way to the gay bar down the street. I continue.

After the ten-minute long make-out session on the corner of the busy intersection, Jenn and I had managed to collect $29, a breath mint and four condoms (one glow-in-the-dark, two flavoured, and a used one, which we didn't actually take) for this little piece of street theatre. This was more than enough money (and accessories) to make us very popular girls at the club. Not that we needed the help; we're both gorgeous. But it seems as if once you have a drink in front of you, people want to buy you more -- perhaps they believe that since you're willing to drink, perhaps they can get you liquored up on drinks and take advantage of you?

Well, this is precisely what I did to Jenn. I bought her round after round of straight tequila with the money we made (and that which I lifted from Angus' wallet, "Shh, Angus might hear you!"), and then I led her off to a darkened corner.

"Is this botany or is this cunnilingus?"

After she and I had washed up and straightened out our clothes (not to mention purchased the film rights to all the footage of our little rendez-vous), we went to go and find gord and Angus. gord was trying to get Angus to put his clothes back on (when Angus drinks, he winds up naked, true story!), and Angus asked gord plaintively, "Is there something wrong with my THROBBING COCK?" I told Angus, "I don't think he likes it up the ass." Angus pouted for the rest of the night.

On the way home, we explained to a drunk gord that when one was dead, one couldn't have sex anymore. The best thing to do was to spend as much of your life as you possibly could having crazy sex (but being safe about it!), and not doing anything too stupid to end your own life too soon. Reflecting on the idea of no sex after death (especially after we threatened to style his hair into an Elvis-style pompadour so he'd go to Heaven looking like that, then hold seances to make fun of him), gord said, "Wow, that sure takes the fun out of suicide." We told him to just wait for his time, and then he could have fun after death. :)

So that was Friday night. Today I got up to take the car in for a workover (free, offered by the dealership), then drove out the hospital to see Mark. I ran into his folks while there, which was good 'cause I didn't really know the layout of the hospital. I had his room number, but no real idea of its location. We went up to his room and they left me with him, and I chatted with him for a bit. I was surprised at how much he was able to talk, as were his folks when I told them afterwards. :)

He was pretty zonked, so after visiting for about a half hour or so, I headed down to where his parents were waiting and wound up chatting with them for about three times as long as I'd spent with him. It was really fun; we talked needlework and career paths and the differences between the three boys in their family... good times. I really like his folks, and as a sign that they really do seem to like me -- his mom is going to look up some names at the RCMP and put me in touch with some people so that I can perhaps apply for a job that would utilize my uni degree. Not bad. :)

Around 2, I headed home to get some lunch (after saying another goodbye to the invalid). I picked up a few flicks for my folks, then came home and ironed out the rest of the plans. Vegged on the couch for awhile, got pinned by cats while I napped, then got up to go and get Ben. We grabbed some dinner and headed back to the hospital. Saw Mark's folks again, got to see him again all dopey and such, then I dropped Ben off at home and came home.

While I was at Ben's the first time, I was trying to play with Fidget, the hamster (she has a name!). She was napping in the litterbox, and I reached in to poke at her in an attempt to wake her up to come out. Well, she rolled over on her side slightly and lifted a front leg; I couldn't figure out if this was Fidget-speak for "I'm going to chew your fucking finger off if you poke me again," or "Rub my belly please!" I went with the second and I still possess all ten digits, so I must've been right. She repeated the behaviour after I stopped rubbing at one point. I think she just has some cat to her. :)

Speaking once again of the cats (and when don't I?), Digger has turned into a snuggle whore. Or at least he did for a brief period of time this evening. I was lying on the loveseat again (where this afternoon's rest and pinnage occured), and when I decided to stretch out, Digger took this as an invitation to join me on the square millimeter of space that remained. If he were Shadow, that wouldn't have mattered; she likes the topography that is my body for her naps. However, Digger has never been a lap cat; he prefers to merely use appendages as pillows.

No matter. He jumped up and settled in by my side for a nice long scratch and pat, which eventually turned into a settle down and cuddle. It was quite sweet; I may make a lap cat of him yet.

Anyhow, what else that I've likely mentioned a billion times and completely forgotten? Well, people have been poking fun at poor Mark's expense. His parents told him, as he was settling into the bed yesterday prior to the surgery, that his head was going to be shaved for the procedure. He was rather freaked out at this, and they played it along for a bit accordingly. This evening, on my third trip through, I told him that he had a patch of hair missing from the back of his head, but it wasn't noticeable. Perhaps the drugs were increasing his gullibility, but he believed me for a bit. Kinda funny.

Nonetheless, he appears to have retained or regained his sense of humour; not only was he making jokes himself, but at one point, in order to illustrate some point or another that escapes my brain at the moment, he reached over and molested me. Ben thought it was hilarious, and I laughed as well, but I also warned him he might not want to do that again, as it might make things uncomfortable to him -- at which point he promptly reached over to do it again. *roll* What a goon. :)

Anyhow, I'm just going to wrap by saying that everyone is off my Christmas card list tonight. There were no "get well soon" or "do well!" messages left for the poor monkey on my site, and no one wished Big A a belated happy birthday. *sticks nose in air* Well!

Hrm. S'okay. Most of you don't know them anyhow, so I suppose I can be accomodating this time. Maybe.

*grr*

"What's wrong with my THROBBING COCK?!"