After several days worth of overdue fees, I gave up on debugging the DVD
player I'm working on, swallowed my pride, and went over to Andy's (The QA
guy) house to watch American History X.

I'm sure you've all heard about the famous "Curbing" scene in this film. I
don't know which bothers me more: the fact that I sat and watched a guy
bite a street curb while Ed Norton stomped his head, or the fact that this
apparently happens frequently enough to merit a nickname.

Regardless of that, the movie kinda sucked ass. It was basically a bunch
of stereotypes, mixed in with some cheap-ass artsy-wanna-be film
techniques, and--of all things--a reaffirmation of the value of rascism
for a finale. Don't that just beat all?

Anyhow, after the film, Andy and I travelled across Orange county to catch
up with his girlfriends.

I say girlfriends, plural, because one is currently dating Andy, and the
other USED to date Andy. I generally make it a point not to bring
different generations of girlfriends together, personally. The LAST thing
I would need is for them to start exchanging premature ejaculation stories
across the table. Hey, let me tell you about the time Ryan let me stick a
broom up his ass! I could sense this sort of psychic communication was
going on across the table, but men, not having the same magical
discussion powers that women possess, can't even send a warning with a
hearty grunt. Andy was just going to have to remain oblivious to the fact
that he was the less-than-mighty protagonist in the sexual Odessey that
was being recounted in the looks and giggles of these two girls. Poor guy.

The restaurant was decorated from top to bottom with posters from 80s
movies. No shit. There wasn't an INCH of wall or ceiling left. These
weren't GOOD 80's movies either. These weren't "Close Encounters" or
"Blade Runner" or "Breakfast Club" posters...looking about showed
everything from "Mannequin" to "Twins" to "Moonwalker".

It should come as no surprise that our waitress looked like Elvira,
mistress of the dark. But older. MUCH older. Is there a legal age limit
to when you can wear spandex?

We eventually recieved our food. The chicken strips that Andy and I were
eating were half-cooked: dark brown on one side and YELLOW on the other. I
didn't think it was possible to NOT get an even cooking with a deep fryer,
but apparently I was wrong. The plate went mostly untouched. The girls
spent their time reveling in the fact that Marilyn Monroe (one of the
only non-80's posters in the joint) was not skinny, by any stretch of the
imagination. They ate their double-fudge brownie sunday, and I, with
Herculean effort, left the fat jokes alone.

To compensate, however, I started a food fight with the table next to me.

The girls at the next table, somewhere in the midst of their highschool
years (decidedly younger than the two chicks that had kidnapped me from
the coffeehouse), came into the restaurant and sat down at the booth next
to us. We were a foot or so above them, since our row of booths was on a
platform.

At one point, one of these girls threw a napkin onto our table, probably
by accident. I threw it back. She threw it back again. Not able to resist
a dare, I threw a pickle. She retailiated. Reason prevailed (Andy to self:
"Not going to get booty if girlfriend disapproves of food fight"), and the
fight was cut short as I reached for the double-fudge brownie sunday.

So, to demonstrate that we're all mature individuals, the girls at the
next table and I got into a penis shouting game.

Ever play this?

Basically, player #1 says, simply, "penis."
Player #2 then says it a little louder.
Then player #1 says it louder still.

Continue until someone is too embarrassed to continue. The other player is
your winner.

The competition went something like this:

Me: "penis."
Her: "Penis."
Me: "Penis!"
Her: "PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISSSSS!"

We were asked to leave shortly after that.

Coincidentally, the word "penis" loses it's meaning after you've written
it too many times in a row, in case anyone was wondering.

Anyhow, that was my night. I came back to Loki to hack some more, and in a
few hours, I'll be apartment shopping yet again. Ugh. Catch y'all on the
backswing.

(Disclaimer: No, Mom, I did NOT ever stick either end of a broom up my
ass. However, all the premature ejaculation stories are true, I'm sad to
report. (*shrug*) Now let's see you try to keep a straight face next time
you want to exchange cute stories about me with one of my girlfriends.)

--ryan.