II: As cunning as a big pot of cunning stew.

Well I successfully wasted today.

Not that I mind. It's the Sunday of a "Long Weekend" (one of several, I suppose, during my four-month weekend,) and I spent last night out with the gang drinking and setting off fireworks.

It wasn't a particularly eventful night, but it was a most enjoyable one. It was my first really good night of drinking in a long while. Certainly the cleanest since... Conorton's farewell, perhaps?

At one point, I was with Adam and Laura -- having been designated some sort of chaperone, I was there to accompany them to Laura's to deposit her car, then to walk back. While we crossed Munn's and River Oaks, some car pulled into the crosswalk with no lights on and nearly hit them. Being the mature one, I walked behind the car as it sped off and gave it the finger. A clean, quick, double-fisted job. The car then pulled into the driveway of the former 5-Star Variety, and I, sensing I may potentially be in a bit of trouble, hurried off ahead. It was nothing, though, and I felt proud of my modest retribution.

Meanwhile, back at home, Eric went on a bit of a bender (he sometimes does this when he's got nothing going on,) and nipped one of my Stella's. Only one, thankfully, and he's pledged to pay it back (which reminds me, I oughtta get that money from him.)

I came home around 2:30 and everyone was down for the count, more or less. Sensing that it'd be trouble if I attempted to sleep in my own room (the mornings, the noise, not such a good combo after drinking, even though I wasn't hung over,) I crashed on the couch. Before I went to sleep, though, Eric wandered out from his room to go to the washroom before he fell asleep. We discussed his taking of my beer, and I told him it was all right so long as he agreed to pay (again, I oughtta get on that,) and he asked if he could have the one remaining. Taking an appraisal of his state, I decided it wouldn't be a good idea and suggested he get some rest.

He wasn't seen again until about 7:00 this evening.

He did give signs of his existence. At 6:00 I thought I heard a rustling, and I thought it was him, but I just rolled over and went back to sleep and when I woke up, I assumed it'd been Emily doing the laundry. Well, it was Eric, and he went for a walk early that morning (something I used to love doing last year, but haven't gotten up early enough for lately,) only to come home and crash again before I got up. He'd had his laptop in his room and messaged me around 5 to say he wouldn't be making supper, and suggested I make burgers for myself and Brandon, while he had leftover KFC from last night. I did, and they were great. At last, he appeared at 7-ish, vowing never to do that again... to which I merely noted, "I've heard that before." Sure he feels like crap, but he'll probably wind up doing it again sometime, maybe just not for a while.

But there are so many summer nights and so few ways to pass the time.

I, meanwhile, woke up feeling sprightly and pleased with the world when I woke up this morning. It was an undeniable sense of well-being that comes with... well, not being sick after a night of drinking, I suppose, and having a whole day to yourself. Sure, I didn't write or draw anything like I might've, and yeah, the Jays got schooled by the Phillies, but still. It's July 2nd, 2006, a beautiful day, and I'm fine with the world.

Yes sir.

Now let's see how this week goes, when that farkakte dog shows up.

Keep on rockin' world
-Scotto