rock over London. rock on, Chicago.

so I caught a ride home tonight with a friend of the sports editor after going out with him and his crew of friends after work to a bar about a mile from here. near the University of Virginia campus. to a campus bar. yes.

I’m listening to “funky Kingston” by Toots and the Maytals. coming onto reggae strong, recently. a little behind the curve, but who cares? this song’s the god damned bomb.

but yeah, I catch this ride home, right? it’s with a friend of the sports editor tonight, and she’s cool, and I’ve met her before. she lives nearby, and we’ve got a report, and she’s cute.
I normally don’t, uh, blog about this kind of shit. but I’m not quite ready to go to bed, so maybe something interesting will come out of this. this just happened, like, in the last 20 minutes. but I caught a ride home with her, on the pretext that I had a little too much to drink. which was true, but I also wanted to get some time alone with her — classy — because she’s interesting, seems cool and she’s cute, and I’m trying to be suave.
so she drops me off at my house, and I’m trying to think of something to say, as we’re talking about god knows what, and I can’t tell if she’s being polite and waiting for me to get my slightly-tanked ass out of her car or if she’s trying to prolong the conversation, but I swear to god that the only thing I can’t think about is how bad I have to take a piss.
yes. this is true. 
(shift in tense)
I should have asked for her number, but I didn’t. I couldn’t stop thinking about how bad I had to fucking pee. I mean, really, it was epic in its urgency. so instead, I’ll spend the next couple of days thinking about how I’ve torpedoed myself with this person well before anything got off the ground. or, you know, I may not have torpedoed myself, but that won’t stop my mind from running amok anyway. son of a bitch!

so: stay tuned for details. though I’ll probably come to my senses and stop writing about this kind of stupd shit by sun-up, so enjoy it while it lasts, and thank the beer for my loose lipz. because you motherfuckers love this self-doubt. isn’t this the kind of shit that makes a good blog? it totally is, isn’t it? my readership is slipping! but I’m giving the people what they motherfucking want.  because I’m so very put upon. and you’re so very welcome.

also, the Bears’ third-string quarterback is looking good in the preseason. so, I guess that’s good news.