Ain't dead yet.

It's been a while, my two readers. I'm mad at myself for not keeping up with posting at least once a week, so my goal for June is an unheard of SIX posts for June. Let's see how that goes.

These past few weeks have been pretty intense. Hanging out more with Brie, Mark Art & Aron Metal is awesome. I can't remember being awake until the sun comes up since freshmen year of college. 5 a.m. talks in the dark are sweet. Also, Fallout? Best/worst club ever, next to Wonderland.

Had an awesomethon/fundraiser for Lucha, and apparently we did OK money-wise. Basically I just found it as an excuse to walk around the bar with my shirt off and be adorably racist. I rocked Tan-A asian market challenge with Blaze. We bought the food. Unfortunate saps ate it. Round one was uncooked chicken feet and a pickled vegetable skewer. Round two was duck eggs (black and green!) and an exotic juice milkshake sprinkled with fuzzy pork jerky. And the grand finale: raw jellyfish and fucking Miller Chill. Mark Art owned it while Blaze's coworker was struggling. At one point Mark got in dude's face and just started devouring the salty protein. ... However, it wasn't until Big Ace took his shirt off and danced that the dude lost it. I haven't been witness to that much vomit since I ate fried squid, brown lettuce from McDonald's and a week old cinnamon bun in Vermont and thought I was going to die naked in a bath tub.

Lucha is shaping up, and everyone seems to not hate each other anymore. Wrestled for Dragon/Sinn's fed out West, to a crowd of mostly 8-year-olds. At one point, they told me to go out (in character) to get the kids stoked for the show. That somehow turned into me signing my name on a buncha kids' foreheads. For the uninformed, that means there were upwards of 20 kids running around with "DEVIL" written on their faces. YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. The wrestling part of the show, however, left me winded and wanting to die. I hit the gym for the first time in about a month tonight, and only ran for about 20 minutes. Hopefully I'll be close to ring-ready in 3 weeks. I'll have a new shirt for the next show, and it's pretty much the sexiest thing ever. Also, new tag team? You'll have to wait and see.

The one real random thing I wanted to write about today was a guest for the morning show, Kendra Bailey, a.k.a. "The Accidental Chef." I don't think she's terribly good in the kitchen, so much so as she's incredibly hot.

If she had long hair, I'd might have to fight Brie for her.

B-Rock is coming back and everyone at work can't be more stoked. From a job perspective, this means better training for me AND hopefully will encourage everyone to get out of the production rut we've all acquiesced in to. From a friend perspective, it'll just be good to get in some hanging again with the guy. We've missed countless trips to restaurants and violent movie viewings, so it'll be good to have him back in town. And frankly, I'm going to enjoy the hell out of conversation that isn't chock full of homophobia and / or petty complaining, which I've been subjected to since last fall. I had to extract myself from one such conversation today, when Transformers J explained he couldn't go to my gym because it's an apparent haven for gay dudes according to the missed connections page on craigslist. W-T-FUCK.

And finally, after about a month and a half, mom is back home. Hopefully she won't have to go back for a long time/ever. The best description I can give of the place is: Crazy Jail, with a thin coat of paint substituting as real life. Terrible. Dad says a social worker will talk to a judge about maybe enforcing some positive things (psychiatrist, keeping track of meds) and doing away with the negative (anger management courses? give me a fucking break). I'll talk to her tomorrow. Right now, sleep.

Also, doom.