It's Monday

And that means that I'll post to my blog instead of doing actual work. I love having a job where I sit by a computer all day long.

Last week was good. I thought I was coming down with a cold in the beginning of the week, but it passed quickly. Boxing on Tuesday was mediocre. There were an odd number of people boxing, so I had to group up with the newbies and help the instructor demonstrate. That meant that I didn't get to do much actual boxing, but I won't complain too much since I was getting over the aforementioned cold. Wednesday afternoon I donated blood. I didn't wind up getting light headed like I usually do when I lose that much blood, so that's a plus. After work I went up to Paul's house and we then went to his pool. Wednesday nights at his pool are 21 and up, and you don't have to be a member (though a member does have to let you in.) So we hung out with his brother, this guy Dylan, and Tracey's sister (a lifeguard) would occasionally sit down with us. Tracey got there a bit late, since she had field hockey that evening. Not much to say here; we went swimming, then we left. It's a pool. What do you want?

Thursday I went up to Tracey's house with the intent to watch a movie, which never happened. I got there as she and her brother were making dinner, then we all got in their hot tub. (Just once I would like to live in a house with a hot tub.) At some point whilst hot tubbing we heard some voice calling for help. It was one of their neighbors; he had fallen down a few stairs and couldn't get up. This guy was old, feeble, and from what I'm told not too mentally stable or nice. Still, Tracey's brother and I hopped the fence and helped him up. This was a long and arduous task; this guy seemed pretty shaken, and didn't want to move that fast. Two middle aged men came by to help, and we got him on his way. Only afterwards did I realize that one of the men who came to help was Tracey's dad; he had just gotten home. I'm not sure what kind of first impression I made there. On one hand, I was helping someone who had fallen. On the other hand, I was in a bathing suit, as was Tracey, and the hot tub was on. I hope that the fact that Tracey's brother was there, and was also in a bathing suit, convinced him that we weren't fooling around in his hot tub.

Friday I went up to Paul's to play poker. Tracey and Danny are good at poker. Paul and I lack skill. I should read up on poker strategy some time before the next time we play. My only real consolation is that we don't play for real money.

Saturday Tracey and I went to the pool in my new neighborhood. I'm not sure how I feel about this pool. On the one hand, it's fairly large, and close. On the other hand, there's no grassy area (it's all concrete,) and there's little area to sit. Later that evening we got dinner at Ricciuiti's and then went to Cold Stone for ice cream. Cold Stone is an interesting place. They follow the logic that people who want ice cream also want to get it at some goofy place... a place that Willy Wonka would design if he were lazy and didn't feel like breeding more Opmpa Loompas. For starters, the people working behind the counter have to sing a little song, of which there appear to be many, every time you give them a tip. From what I can tell the song they choose is mostly random, but I think they may have special ones when the tip surpasses a dollar. Also, they are too crazy to follow conventional size names. Small, Medium, and Large are too straightforward. They don't even go with the big American trend of forgoing Small and having Medium, Large, and Extra Large. They avoid that whole mess and have names like "Like it", "Love it", and "Gotta have it" which make ordering, in my opinion, almost too stupid to be worth the ice cream you get in return. "Hi, I'd like a gotta have it of lobster cheesecake ice cream." Okay, the flavors aren't that bad, but they are somewhat goofy too. One last rant with this ice cream establishment: the actual portions. The bowls they have on display for the various sizes look like they differ by about 25% at the most. I figure, I'm in the mood for ice cream, I may as well get the large, um, "gotta have it." So I get it, and the thing is huge. From what I can tell they fill up the smallest bowl half way for the smallest portion, and for the largest portion they fill up the largest bowl so that you have a 50-50 chance of spilling the thing before you leave the store. I couldn't finish mine, so I threw it out. I was half tempted to drop it in their tip jar just to see if they'd have to sing.

I took Tracey home, then headed down to Laurel. Kevin and I shower (he was coming from work, me from a hot day and a chlorinated pool), separately, and I drive us down to Santa Fe where people were, get this, drinking. Only Kevin forgot his ID and we had to drive back up to Laurel, then down again to the bar. I have a few beers, but don't get shitfaced since I'm the designated driver, and eventually we leave. I'm growing less and less fond of bars, not that anything particularly bad happened there. It's just not my scene.

I'll have to have Tracey come down to the place in Laurel more often, so more of you people can meet her. She's only met Kevin so far, and I'd like her to see the whole spectrum of assholes I hang out with.