On Friends

Last night I met a bunch of new people. Some of them commented on my shirt being awesome. This felt good. I shook some hands, hugged a bunch of very attractive ladies, saw some old friends I'd lost track of, drank beers, played pong, and had conversations about American history, politics, philosophy, economics, religion, and Ayn Rand. (For the record, I ain't about Ayn.)

There was a pleasant time had, and I hope everyone else had such fun.

Except for this goddam nightingale outside my window that sings at the ass-crack of dawn. Seriously, it perches on my roof.

Oh, and excepting Rand too. Fuck that bitch. I prefer Margaret Atwood, anyway.