White House Wasted Thoughts

Currently Listening To: Texas Flood

Currently My Wallpaper: Charlize Theron, naked

Currently President of Panama: Martin Torrijos

Just got back from a killer trip to Washington, the strange non-state “district” where, as John Hodgman said, “compasses spin wildly, and magnets fail to function.” I can't divulge what I did there, because my brother would be forced to have me killed, but I'll say that I came out of that city with a newfound patriotism and respect for the Office of The President.

OK, so I can tell you a few things. I stayed with my brother at his apartment while my parents took up residence at the Holiday Inn, so needless to say, I got hammered. We started off the night looking for a pool hall to go to, but seeing as D.C. and the surrounding cities don't really make up a “college” area, all the places we tried were 21 and up. So, with tears in our eyes, we headed to the nearest 7-11, got two sixers (I procured some cigarettes for the night's festivities), and headed back to the place.

Well, after I killed five of six Yuenglings in my possession, as well as the three I valiantly vanquished before our initial departure, I heard a commotion outside the door. Ooh, tenants!

Within two minutes my brother and I were partying with his neighbors, two girls that sent home the two douchebags they came home with when they realized the better company was already living next to them. I got a free gin and tonic out of it, two free beers, and some pretty cool chicks that told me that my philosophy on life (which I cannot now remember) should net me a seminar. Good night, all in all. Got to bed about 7. When I woke up, I was hammered still, and two hours later I was standing outside the door of the Oval Office. Just a little bit wasted.

My Mac's spell check program doesn't recognize “Yuengling” as a real word. This, ladies and gentlemen, is a problem.

Standing outside The White House, I asked one of the DC cops on duty what was one of the strangest things he'd seen go on outside the gates. He then directed me to watch the man up there in the picture, who has just arrived. Officer White House said that he was there every single day, at 4pm and 8pm, hand to his heard, facing the building. The man then started walking on what was obviously a path he had taken before, complete with foot turns. OWH
then pointed out to me that he was counting his steps. And friends, he was.

OWH said that he and his fellow officers had checked him out before, and the man had no history of mental illness, no prior offenses, and appeared to be a very sane and rational human being. In his briefcase are business papers. Just goes to show ya that despite all appearances, the normal people you know and work with are probably, deep-down, really quite odd.

Every year around this time, I grow what is known as The Yule Beard. It starts on November 10th, when I shave clean, and no hair on my face is sheared until Christmas Eve, right before I go to church with the family and we head over to the Grandparents' for presents and laughter and eggnog spiked with tequila (that's my tradition, not the family's). I figure that people with beards generally look happier and more jovial and agreeable, and Christmastime is all about that kinda shit, so if everyone just ponies up and grows them a damn The Yule Beard, then this fucked-up, crazy world might just improve a little bit. So, even though it's too late for you poor saps out there, I encourage you all to grow your very own The Yule Beard next year, and do your part for humanity. Also, you should quit your job. They don't appreciate you enough anyway.