Friday, October 21, 2005 | by nathan

Everything is going pear shaped for the people who are making this country suck

This Guy goes to school with me. I just started reading his blog. In Heaven, he is going to be in the Mean People’s Room with Ann Coulter and Paul Wolfowitz, and this guy:

This is Tom DeLay’s mug shot. Look at him smiling like a sonofabitch. He actually doesn’t think he did anything wrong. He doesn’t think he is capable of doing anything wrong.

Ugh.

The recruiter from yesterday is really hard at it today. He just signed up this guy named Brian (not my Brian) who seems really nice and soft-spoken. They just came up to get Brian’s transcript and I noticed how the recruiter kept him talking about anything and everything but the fact that he’s likely going to be shipped off to Iraq to die. They talked about the NBA, and CSI, and cars.

Brian’s a poor black kid. People like DeLay think that Iraq, and oil, are the reason poor black kids are put on this Earth.

Okay. I’m breathing again.

In the wake of Justin Lee’s appearance on Dr. Phil, I am returning from (I laughingly use the phrase) sabbatical next week. That’s right, kids - QAF will very soon be back and, I hope, better than ever, though that remains to be seen. Some of the material in the first “episode” premiered in one form or another in this blog, but you should read it anyway, because it will be highly polished (trying not to snicker at myself) and much better than this drivel. As usual, I wrote a cheesy, “wrap-up” ending that I promise to hack off and burn before it gets posted.

I got a bunch of work done on the office last night, too, which was good, because Summer is in town and we are having a cookout at the house tonight. Gabe is coming, as are my mom and aunt Peggy and Jaye and Laurie, and all of these people are bringing necessities, like beer and cucumber salad.

I had a few casual vodka and Dr. Peppers last night as I was cleaning and now I feel all wonky. I absolutely do not know how Gabe and I used to go out six nights a week, get bombed on McCormick’s and Newports, then get up and go to work in the morning without breakfast. I look back on that year of my life with some fondness, some embarassed flinching, and a whole lot of wonder at how I even survived. I’ll tell you this much: it was much, much easier to manage it all after I got fired from Harold’s. I suppose that goes without saying, really. To this day I avoid Whataburger and McCormick’s like the plague. Okay, well, I avoid Whataburger. But it’s mostly Skyy and Grey Goose these days, and the Dunhill cigarettes disappeared mysteriously from the kitchen (**coughcoughBryonChamberscoughcough**) so I was smoke-free last night except for the incense I burned in the office.

I just gotta say that I am hella stoked about tonight. Cookout, good friends, slightly chilly weather, and beer. Does it get fucking better?

I think only in Heaven. And to be perfectly honest, I think Heaven will be a lot like that.