The Daily Derenger

11/22/2003

Lansing, Michigan this week. Michigan State is here and at tonight's late show there was a frat party accompanied by their dates. About 20 guys with 20 hot, young sorority girls. Some of them were just barely 18. Wow. Nice week to pick to not not drink. There is far less disappointment and heartbreak while stone sober. Instead of the gorgeous brunette in the red pants sitting on my bed, there was a Grilled Stuft Steak Burrito. I ate it pretty fast, so maybe the brunette lucked out.

11/21/2003

You know what those outlet-strip-malls are good for? Long walks. There's one just across the street from my hotel and maybe seven stores are open. Instead of dodging shoppers, I had to pass through employees' smoke breaks. Well, I guess I could've ventured into the parking lot, but who wants to go out of their way for excercise?

11/19/2003

I'm in Lansing, Michigan. It took me forever to get here because I got lost about 12 times, not to mention getting confused with their 96 and 69 interstates. Or maybe I got a little hot over the numbers.

The hotel desk clerk told me the club was near the Velvet Touch. "Oh good," I said. "I need a car wash." It wasn't that kind of touchy place, though. Rather, I would need a serious washing after that place, especially behind my ears.

11/18/2003

My days here in Toledo have come to an end. Jay and Angie have been the most gracious hosts, letting me eat their, drink their milk and use their phone line to post these entries. Tonight we celebrated my last night by dining at a Mexican/German restaurant. Nothing says "Thank you Toledo" like bratwurst burritos with margaritas and a cold Becks beer courtesy of Hans Martinez. Lansing, here I come.

11/18/2003

My friends are trying to get pregnant (that means they're having sex, hehehe, dirty kids.) The wife and I have been best friends for about 15 years, so she feels she can tell me anything. And she can.

"I was slimy today," she told me.

"I'm ovulating. We have to do it now. Wake up honey!" she said as she hook her husband awake.

"He even held my legs up so everything stayed inside," she added. Wow! I almost feel like I was there. The kid should be at least named after me don't you think?

11/17/2003

I think I'm going to bring a Bible into a daycare and read it. Hopefully that will produce the same effect as the crying and screaming at a noon Sunday mass.

It's probably a good thing altar boys don't serve into their 20s. You'd be all hung over on the altar for the whole congregation to see, yawning throughout the whole mass. You'd have your hands folded with the bar stamps from the night before still glaringly obvious, glitter on your face from the sorority girls you did Tequilla shots with, and lipstick on your cheek from the 40-something lady you moved in on only to puke on the floor en route to her.

The other altar server would ring the bells during the blessing of the water and wine and you'd scream, "Last call." Fun times would be had indeed.