All Things Must Pass

The Fortnight of Andrew pushed on to a blinding crescendo, the likes of which haven't been seen since there walked a lady we all know who shines white light and wants to show how everything still turns to gold.

Friday night brought both joy and Pimp My Ride watching. It's amazing what a guy can do with a 1966 El Camino and an unlimited budget. Lizzie and friend Cerita (whose name I assume I just butchered) arrived, and we went to Sedgwick's to meet up with Jessie, Ari, and Morgan at their firm's post-holiday-party party. Ale was consumed. Good times were had. Collies were not molested.

Saturday provided mixed emotions. I woke up around 5:30 to take a brisk swim in Lake Michigan, followed by some cage fighting and an oatmeal bath with a ferret, which for some reason I was calling a marmot. All of this seemed strange, considering I had a flag football game at 11. It was a hard-fought defensive battle on the frozen tundra, resulting in a 7-0 loss, thereby ending our season. After that, we headed to Rocks to watch the second half of the abortion that passed for the IU/Kentucky game. It turns out that shooting 4 for 25 from three-point range negatively influences a team's chances of victory. Lizzie and Cerita were so disgusted with the way IU played that they went to Milwaukee (Algonquin for "the good land").

Bruised and broken after the game, I left Rocks with my proverbial tail between my legs, literally. I spent most of Saturday afternoon conversing with Frasier about why he has been drinking so much water. Unsatisfied with the results, I watched most of VH1's 100 Greatest Kid Actors. I had always wondered what happened to Danny Pintauro and Lisa Whelchel. Gay and turbo Christian, respectively (and predictably).

Saturday evening brought a devlish little soiree. Get this. Tradd just finished his last law school final, and his special ladyfriend Kara took him to dinner. Meanwhile, a group of Tradd's friends and family members gathered without his knowledge at Kara's apartment. Despite what you may be thinking, we did not rob her blind. Instead, we waited until they returned from dinner and put forth upon Tradd the greeting "Surprise!" when he walked in the door. Fear and indifference stared back at us.

After the party, several of us headed to Deja Vu (the bar in Chicago, not the various strip clubs in Indiana and Michigan). I regained my Silver Strike Bowling touch while at The Vu, netting $45 from Gregerson and his neighbor Chandler. The steak nachos I obtained in exchange for cash at Los Tres Panchos proved to be a fitting reward. I stabbed a bird with a stale nacho chip while walking home.

Yesterday I did a lot of sitting. At the urging of Wilfred Brimley, I checked my blood sugar level and I checked it often. I don't think I have "dye-a-be-tiss." Last night was my last class for my current Second City class, so the three of us that actually showed up to class went out to Burton Place afterward, where we watched the Saints depants the Cowboys and drank more than we probably should have on a Sunday night, especially for those of us who started new jobs today. I make good decisions.

The Fortnight of Andrew officially died this morning when my alarm went off at 6:30. Begrudgingly, I showered, dressed myself, and ate breakfast. What's nice about starting this new job is that I had training today, and I have another full day of training tomorrow. However, while reading the firm's attorney handbook, I came across a horribly depressing prohibition: blogging. While my productivity at work will increase tenfold, I fear that GMYH will suffer. Thus, I will be putting in my two-week notice tomorrow.

Tonight Jessie and I attempted to make a fire in our fireplace and managed to make our entire apartment smell like a bonfire. Febreze can only do so much. Thanks a lot P&G.

Currently I'm watching the Bears/Rams game while challenging myself to a Devin Hester praising contest. Holy shit, that guy's good.