Dad and Ryan spent the weekend (well, Friday and Saturday nights) here, and we hung out and did stuff…

Friday night was for going to see “Bowling For Columbine” at Ackerman, and I just have to say that EVERYONE should go see it, especially if they have any sort of feelings at all regarding issues like gun control and the like—and if you don’t have these feelings, it helps if you’re a…human? Whatever. It appeals to everyone, or should. I can’t honestly say that I can lend any sort of a sympathetic ear to someone who says they’re “just protecting their rights to bear arms,” just because the interpretation applied to that amendment is so antiquated and obsolete, especially when you think about things that have happened because of gun violence. When did you ever hear on the news, “Thank God that family had a huge shotgun, because the 8-year-old child was successfully able to fend off the intruders. Wow, what a great idea, having kids and guns in the same house! I’m so glad they chose to exercise their right to bear arms!” Never. That’s right, never, jackasses. There’s something in the United States that is drastically different from any other country (and I love our country just as much as anyone else), that allows all this stuff to happen, and it has to change. Whatever it is, it can’t stay the same, with six-year-old kids bringing guns to school and shooting their classmates.

Saturday began with anxiety, as I woke up at 7:25 and realized that I was supposed to have woken up at 6:30, and been at Starbucks at 7:15. “I’m so fired. This sucks, I’m going to get fired from STARBUCKS, of all places…” The guy, Daniel, who was driving the other new recruits (sorry, PARTNERS…bleah) to the anonymous office building in Culver City for the workshop called me and arranged to pick me up, so I wasn’t entirely screwed. The workshop was pretty much what I imagine it would be like to join a cult, with all the free pastries and promotional video…whatever, at least I’ll be getting a check soon. Came back, exhausted, took a shower, and went and spent a lazy afternoon with Dad and Ryan.

Had dinner with Dad, Ryan, Michelle, Candice, Andy, and Brian at BJs…it was weird to have the intersection of the “family” and “school” spheres, but I think it’s what I want to do. It’s too hard having more than one life…which sounds dramatic, but is mostly true.

This is where I apologize, and I don’t do it very often. Ryan spent the night on Saturday, and I was gone for most of the night, because I went to a crew party with Patrick (more on this after my apology). When I was out drinking and partying, he was sitting in the room with Michelle and Andy and Brian, playing bad computer games and Guillotine and enduring awkward silences, because they were pretty much babysitting him. What I should have done was either not have had him spend the night or not have gone to the party or even taken him to the party, but I didn’t do any of those things. And you know how I feel about regret. But to anyone who perceived my abandonment of my brother as, well, abandonment, I’m sorry…and I’m sorry to Ryan, too. End of apology. Let’s move on.

So I went to the crew/apartment party with Patrick, knowing that I would know just about only him and Taylor, who was showing up later with some people he knew from crew. It was really fun, although the alcohol was cheap and there were quite a few…colorful…girls in attendance. I feel a salute is in order for Patrick, who suggested dancing (bold move for a big white guy…and he had the dance solos to back it up!), and who made sure I didn’t fall down from dizzy drunkenness. Awkward moment of the night: Dave, supposedly drunker than he apparently was, insinuating himself into our cozy conversation. “Good luck, man.” Good luck with what? That’s gross, and I don’t care how drunk you are, that’s just inappropriate. And as for the drunken belligerence that could have ensued…disgusting. Don’t use drinking as an excuse for that kind of behavior, don’t do anything drunk that you wouldn’t do sober, or anything you’ll regret when you come around.

Aside from the gross encounter with Dave, the night was a rousing success. Lesson learned: don’t mix rum and cranberry. If it smells bad, it’ll taste worse. Stick to vodka and cranberry. Overall, a good night—I’m glad I feel so comfortable with Patrick, and that there’s nothing (yet…haha) that drives me insane about him. A good sign, if ever there was one.