Lorinda and I had our usual Friday after-work dinner, grabbed our contribution to the beer fridge, and headed uptown to Happy�s house. I ignored the BYOP part of the pumpkin party, as I was taking the CTA in the rain and didn�t feel like lugging a gourd around the city. I also know that my pumpkin preference is similar to that of my Diet Coke preference -- the bigger, the better -- so that wasn�t going to happen.

As usual, we played card games and had a fabulous time. It really is who you�re with that makes it a good time, rather than what you�re doing. I really do adore my friends. They�re all-around great people.

I woke up exceptionally early for a Saturday and spent my morning on a cleaning rampage. Both the bathroom and the closet are now the cleanest they�ve ever been, but the displaced items now sit in my pseudo-hallway, waiting to be given to Goodwill, washed and put up for the winter, or filed away in some fashion. Alas, I indeed have two very clean rooms and believe that the kitchen and bedroom will be tackled this lovely Sunday morning.

After the cleaning frenzy, I messed with my new MP3 player (thank you parents!), setting that up for my blading excursion to Brian�s to spend some quality time sitting on his couch, catching up with him and Lorinda while watching football. (No, I don�t particularly care one way or the other with the specific football games, but I do enjoy watching games in general.) We watched a red team and an orange team play five overtime periods in a very exciting game, and I noted in the little text along the edge of the screen that UT clobbered Baylor -- big surprise...

I made it to Brian�s, yes, but I failed to mention that I didn�t get there until the late, late afternoon. What can I say? My MP3 player is a wonderful, wonderful toy. There�s something about a melancholy Bob Dylan crooning his depression for a lost love while blading through the streets in 65-degree weather. Love it, love it, love it!

Brian hoisted L and me off the couch and took us to a bar where he had to attend a Halloween party. I didn�t have a costume, nor did I feel like paying $25 when I�d drink no more than $10 worth of $5 beers, so I stayed at the front of the bar with the regular patrons and waited for some more friends to show up.

I caught the last inning of the World Series, and Pudge�s reaction was absolutely golden. As a Texas fan, there was nothing better than seeing my all-time favorite player get to win a World Series when the team he was previously with won�t even have a chance to make the wildcard until long after the superstar shortstop is gone. I see Pudge and how he gives every game his all, and I can�t help but think of an excited six-year-old, still so eager to play the game he loves.

And then I saw Jason Giambi and Derek Jeter so disappointed. And I felt kinda bad for them. And I thought about how nice they were that evening we met on Rush Street. And how one becomes a Yankee for that hunk-o-gold resting on a finger saying that you are the best in the world. And how long that women�s restroom line was and how badly I had to pee right then and there...

I took a quick look over each shoulder, traipsed into the men�s onesie, and proceeded to not touch a damn thing. That place was so contaminated with boy germs that if the sink�s water wasn�t already running, my hands wouldn�t have gotten washed. Hoverers be damned, but I joined their ranks in that stinkfest of a crapper.

While exiting, I was busted by two guys standing next to my friends and felt it was my obligation to find out for womankind how in the hell a man manages to piss on the floor. They hypothesized that someone didn�t lock the door and got a startle that caused some splatter. While indeed a likely story, I�m sticking with the thought that after nearly three decades of having the ability, men are still impressed with their abilities to aim their urine as they dang will please.

Men [sigh] Ya gotta love �em.

I will say though, talking with those strangers was a good move. One of them was actually interesting. It doesn�t happen all too often that I meet someone with something to say. It was rather nice, and I wanted to shake his hand goodnight.

The night ended around 2 a.m. with a large Diet Coke, a shared cab ride, and kitty snuggles. And much like that brought a smile to my face, waking up, taking an hour to write this entry, and seeing that it�s barely after seven in the morning is grin-worthy.

Happy Sunday all. Hope it�s a good one.�