The Waiting Game

Ho-hum.
I'm bored, and my eyes are bugging out.
"What," you may ask, "the hell are you doing? Drunk and insomnia?"

No, I've decided to stay up all night.

"Know thyself" it is written, and I do.
I know if I fell asleep at my normal time I would pull a total coma through the blaring alarms (yes, alarms, there are 3 set for every morning), and miss my cab, miss my flight and put my travel plans into complete disarray!

The last few hours trickle by filled with:

• Padding through the apartment (tsch tsch should have cleaned more)
• Petting Little Lilly (who is already breaking my heart at the thought of not being around her *sob*)
• Drinking a pot of coffee
• Worrying over the fact I only have one Camel Light remaining; considering walking to the twenty-four hour gas station up the street, but changing mind as I not in the mood to deal with the Cabbie/ Crack ho clientel there at this hour.
• Staring, walking away, coming back and staring longer at my suitcase. Do I have everything?
• Listening to classical music on the radio because I've learned over the past years classical music seems to stimulate something in my mind that keeps me awake (awake, not necessarily coherent).
• Fiddling with and putting away or rearranging various knick-knacks and papers laying around the apartment.
• Considering taking the rest of the garbage out (pfft, that's not going to happen).
• Wasting time making lame comments here and, of course, here.
• F.W.B? No, too late.
• Blowing my nose, it's so dry in here.
• Staring out the kitchen window at the empty street, slush, and fog.
• Plucking dead leaves from my straggly, scrawny tomato plant. It did flower once. Um, one tiny yellow flower. I want a baby tomato, dammnit!
• Zone-out on the various clocks throughout the apartment.
• Let the Blogger "New Post" screen burn itself into my retinas, flaring my rods and cones, for minutes at a time without typing. My Cube somehow turned into My Blank Shit. Guest bloggers may be needed. HA!
• Scroll through this.
• Pour another coffee.
• Look at last, lonely cigarette on microwave, "Resist, resist, man!"
• Try to think of a paid online job to do during my full-time Bank job since I have such the large amount of down time there. And really, doesn't I Have 3 Jobs ring well with My Cube Has 3 Sides?
• *sigh*
• I want chocolate.

Okay, I'm boring myself.

See you all later!

Mac expands his (pub) horizons

Advice for Fresh
Originally uploaded by Mac(3).

Sorry for the long delay in posts, pics, and what-not, but I've had a lot on my mind. For, you see, I am preparing for a trip to the fair hills and dales of Edinburgh, Scotland.
"But, Mac, that's a long way to go just for a drink," you may say.
Now, true, I am excited to sample a tipple or two of beers born and bred in European soil and vats, but I am going to attend more important of matters and events.
The marriage of Fresh to his lovely lass, The Doctor. That's right; a honest-to-goodness card-carrying PHD Doctor (must I always be the dumbest person in the room? Couldn't marry someone that pops up in this search, huh?).

A few weeks ago, Fresh returned to native land for a weekend of drinking, giggles, and kilted fun, a Stag Party Weekend in his honor. I've waited too long to expound on the weekend of fun in any detail, so I'll let the pictures do the talking for themselves. I had a great time, and enjoyed meeting some of his family and friends (and look forward to seeing them again in Scotland).

I've got my passport (with required shitty photo), my luggage (blue, battered, and heavy), my flight (long and, well, fucking long!), and lodging (right in the heart of Princes Street! The Court Street of Edinburgh! (or something like that)), and my Lilly-sitter all lined up and in order for the most part.

But I haven't a thing to wear! (Combination of bad fashion taste and the dread of actually doing laundry. Ever). Cripes, I'll be the stinky, Fashion Don't Representative of America for two weeks. I shall be pummeled with pint glasses and thrown off the Waverly Bridge or hung from the gallows below the Edinburgh Castle!

Or praised for my "cool, vintage early-90's apparel."

Ah well, pass a bit of the Jameson, and smooth my furrowed brow (and add another church to The List, brother).

Okay, haven't a clue what this post is about.
Later, and more often, I hope.