rock over London. rock on, Chicago.

went to a Halloween party on saturday night.
I dressed as a mummy. actually rented a costume. I’m sorry, to all of you who think more of me. call it peer pressure. call it laziness. I don’t know. I went to Yuma (all of 40 miles from here) with the mystery roommate and the girl he was dating.
notice, I said ‘was.’
I’m not much one for costumes. as my brother said on the phone when I told him what I was doing: “you might as well just buy a rubber gorilla mask. you’re going to be too drunk to give a fuck by the end of the night anyway.”
agreed.
we were at the costume shop for about an hour. the girl with the mystery roommate kept on looking at shit, dragging her feet, wanting to buy odds and ends (though she already had a costume) and the mystery roommate was trying to be diplomatic. after that, she had to buy shoes for her costume, so went to a shoe store, where she proceeded to buy not shoes for her costume, but boots that she thought looked cute. no kidding. when Mike called, I stepped out and let loose a string of curse words into the cell phone. hey, gotta vent to someone.
either way, I rented a costume, and that’s the last fucking time I bother doing that. first off, no one knew what the fuck I was supposed to be; secondly, renting it means you have to give it back, and back means going out to Yuma again (went this afternoon); and third, you can make a mummy costume for about three dollars. go to a thrift shop, buy a sheet somebody probably died in and cut it into strips. viola.
the party, though, was fun.
bonged a beer, which I hadn’t done in about three years. didn’t vomit. met this cool girl who told me she’d show me around the Algodones dunes (shot “star wars” there, BOSS) and walked out holding a bag of Doritos.
so I got all that and a bag of chips.
doesn’t anyone else think that’s funny?
the mystery roommate, by the end of the night, was trashed, so I drove home. he proceeded to get in a nasty fight with his date, and I had to drive her home. this is what I’m talking about when I say “drinking problem.” he drinks, a lot, and he’s a creepy drunk. when he decides to go, he don’t come to fuck around: he goes. staggering, introverted, cryptic kind of shit. I guess he said some horrible shit to the girl, cause she related it all to me on the ride home. I tried to be diplomatic about it, as I wasn’t there and didn’t want to be anywhere near involved with this, but today, at work – of course she works at the paper – she asked for my phone number.
“uh. okay.” I don’t know what that means. but it can’t be good. I guess they’re done. I’m not about to start.
but all in all, I’m much more involved in the community all of the sudden, though that really means I’m not at all. I’ve had a handful of people ask me to hang out at different times this weekend, and in one way or another, that’s good; I could use the social interaction.

even so: I’m still pumped out of my mind for Thanksgiving. it’s going to be cold in DC. I can’t wait.