7 things i think about while drinking beer alone in the apartment

in no particular order.

1. why does the number 7 always make me think of jesus?
2. if someone with a lot of credibility told me the things i did affected other peoples lives I didn't know, would i believe them?
3. seriously, punk rock should make everyones day better.
4. when I become a teacher, will I be able to do all the things I want to?
5. or will everyone have to read that book about the red fern growing?
6. will dan ever play music again?
7. why doesn't anyone deliver burritos?

wow, what a life.

07/07/07 = the luckiest day created by an asshole in a coat

It is one o clock in the morning. Or close enough for the people on espn.com to say that nothing good happens after midnight. I used to disagree. Tonight, I don't.

We (myself and Bill, as BOOTH!) played a show today. It went really well. My dad showed up. He lives in Texas, but he was in town. He has never seen us before. He seemed to enjoy it.

Now here is where the proverbial shit hits the proverbial fan.

Super easy version (for the people who have the same skill in math as I do). Me + Beer + Sun + Daddy Issues + Ex + New Girl I am Dating + Small Anarcho-Collective Bullshit + Music + No Interest = 07/07/07

Super long crazy version. Show up at my house with a 12 pack, we'll talk.

So I leave the bar, drive drunk, come home, sleep. See Crystal my roommate, talk about things, sleep again. I wake up to walk into my backyard to see Adam, a friend who does piercing who I really like, his crazy girlfriend, a girl from Riverside, and my ex sitting in my backyard. Everyone else is MIA.

My roommates just showed up, with Robert. The girl I am dating is on her way. The guy my ex went on a date with at Maxdon's is here. So are some rad folks from Riverside. I just put on my Kevlar vest.

Here's to 07/08/07 being more filled with shit than 07/07/07.

Oh luckiest day in history, I hardly knew thee.