To Blog or not to Blog

So I'm not sure if it's the fledgling cold I'm battling or what, but I cannot seem to force myself to do any meaningful work today. Two real phone calls, and compiling my story list (which by looking at it means I should be working my ass off right now) are all I've accomplished by 3:30.

Therefore, I blog.

I haven't posted since last weekend, but I must say, I had a lesson in partying like a rock star. My buddy John and I went to Cleveland to visit Bam Bam, another old college roommate, for his birthday and to watch the OSU game on a mammoth HD plasma-screen television. This thing even mixes drinks for you, it is that sweet.

So Bam Bam is in a band, The Solicitors, which I highly reccommend y'all check out, just to give them some face time here on My Middle Name Is Earl. His band mates were in attendence, and as I said earlier, we commenced to Party Like Rock Stars.

This included drinking from six in the evening until eight in the morning, laying on the floor zoned out and playing Mario Kart for several hours (very unrockstar-like) having a middle-aged woman vomit on my shoes, and having in-depth conversations with a Steve Buscemi lookalike on the Star Wars universe (also, extremely unrockstarlike). But it was a good time, the hang over lasted two days, and I have pictures waiting to be developed. Once they're in the can you can find them on my myspace page.

But John made a new 'friend,' as usual, who I believe is around 12 years his younger (I exagerate, wouldn't want any police reading this to go tracking the poor guy down) and I made some new friends, who will hopefully visit in Columbus for Operation Hell on Arcadia, scheduled for Sept. 23. I also challenged the Solicitors' lead singer to a walk off ala Zoolander, but in the absence of David Bowie we had to postpone. Oh well.

Anyway, off to drink some cough medicine and lie down before watching Little Miss Sunshine. Is it a bad idea to go on a date with someone who has a 15-month-old?

updates

For the sake of LT, I've decided to try and pick this up again. My blog has too awesome of a name to let it wither and die on the vine.

Took a fun tour of central and southeastern Ohio this weekend, with stops at COSI, Marietta, and finally in Zanesville. I tried my hand at a live fantasy football draft for the first time, and upon arriving home in Columbus my roommate informed me, with a two-second glance at my roster, that one of my players was cut from his team, another was injured and probably wouldn't play this season, and I think he said a third was in jail. I'm a wonderful fantasy football manager!

Happily I was able to see the Star Wars exhibit at COSI before it closed Forever. Not that I'm old by any means (I won't complain about my age like many of my friends since I haven't even hit the 38 mark yet) but something happened that made me feel part of a generation that's moving along down the cosmic path. Here goes.

So I was standing in front of a massive glass display case admiring the original costume of the one and only Darth Vader, used to film episodes four through six. I couldn't believe how big and imposing this guy was - no wonder an entire galaxy groveled at his plastisteel boots. Anyway, enough of my nerdiness.

As I was standing there, a group of about four or five 10-year-old boys walks by. Passing by Vader like they didn't even see him, one of them shouts, "Look, it's General Grievous!!!" and the boys tear ass over to a foot-tall bust of one of the bad guys from the 'new' Star Wars movies. Lord Vader was given only a passing glance.

I was slightly pissed that these kids would pass up arguably one of the most sinister and emotionally complex villians in movie history for a four-armed, computer generated hack job with an unplaceable accent. What the hell!

But I realized those kids were just identifying the bad guy from their contemporary culture. Vader and the rest of the crew were heroes of a different generation - these kids wanted what was on the shelves NOW.

It made me feel a little sad. Hopefully some day those kids will get older and appreciate the rest of the story. And someday when they're around my age and they're at a Star Wars historical museum, little kids will run by them, seeing images of Grievous, and laugh at how fake the CGI looks.

An entire column on the emotions invoked in me by a cast costume from Star Wars. Am I this much of a dork in person?