The following blog entry was written early last week only to be posted now. No need to adjust your watch.
As I sit down to write this blog entry, the words "Office Center and Virginia Drives!" shriek thanks to a pre-recorded female voice. I’m starting this entry on the bus on my first leg of the journey heading back to Houston for my monthly weekend tryst with all things home. I’m hoping to spend some quality time with my parents, my cars, cute girls, and possibly Astroworld. I’d like to at least try to go to Number’s tonight, although I’ve been slacking in my late night party abilities. Blame my 8 AM to 5 PM day job. Blame it on Rio, the rain, and the bellboy, while you’re at it.
My week has been somewhat uneventful. During one particular evening I was treated to a shouting match between two groups of people down the street from me. I didn’t quite what triggered the spat, but the variations on the phrase "Move your friggin’ car or else!" were frequently exchanged. Was someone trying to stake a claim on the last available parking spot? Who cares? I opened my window and, in my best Philadelphian manner, yelled, "SHUDDUP!" The immediate response was "What!? Do you think you own this street?" I saw that my location was not immediately obvious to the groups because they started looked up in random locations intently searching every window on the block. My subterfuge was courtesy of two giant maple trees outside my window. The groups got back into it with each other after being briefly distracted by my request for silence. Someone else yelled something from another window, so I figured I’d had enough participation and would listen to the rest of the proceedings from behind my (now) closed window. Someone eventually drove off in a mad huff and nearly blew past the red light at 2nd and Brown. Everything then returned to normal and the street was at peace again.
On Friday, my plane to Philadelphia was delayed by an hour. I arrived in Houston and decided to bypass Terminal C passenger pick-up in lieu of the sexier Terminal E passenger pick-up. Aside that the latter is newer and sleeker is the other fact that almost nobody uses the it. My dad scooped me from the desolated pick-up area and we were on our way to Lostville. We got off track while trying to avoid some construction work on Beltway 8. We eventually found our way back with only one near accident to show for it. Good times. We had the traditional dinner with my house-sitting roommate at Texas Land and Cattle. As usual, I had the jalapeno pork chops. Mmmm! I don’t know how they infuse the jalapeno into the pork chop. Syringe? Pump? Deal with the devil? Our server Bethany gave us a good round of I’ll Be Flirty With You So You’ll Tip Me Better. She got the traditional tip that we leave there. We’re trying to be known as The Big Tipper Guys although there is so much turnover in the employment that nobody seems to recognize us.
After dinner I went home to freshen up before going out. Instead of the usual Number’s jaunt, I hit up a club called Chrome located off Shepherd and Alabama. The most attractive thing about the club was that it was smoke-free inside. I wasn’t impressed by the music (too typical), the d
