<HONEA EXPRESS: Where I Drop Links

It finally happened. Honea Express has moved to greener pastures, or possibly just out to pasture -- you make the call.

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Please pardon the dust and update your feed readers accordingly. Thank you - Whit

Monday, December 10, 2007

Where I Drop Links

I took my pants down in the kitchen, not all the way, but further than most people were comfortable with. I had been talking to Neil* and his lovely wife Sophia, both of whom I had met just minutes before. I like to make a lasting first impression.

We were at a party in the Hollywood Hills that was a nice combination of the two worlds that L.A. Daddy walks in, those being movies and blogs. There were actors and screenwriters, directors and bloggers and those that blurred the lines of distinction, like Liz (she makes interesting cookies- I liked them).

I spent the early part of the evening chatting with Jane and then being a total schmuck and not walking her out to her car despite my upbringing. That was uncalled for.

I also struck up some conversation with Sept. 10th and her lovely husband Big D. after I got over the fact that they were "too busy" to bring their famous lasagna (and my wife stopped talking long enough for me to join in). It was during this conversation that my consumption of alcohol began to have its way. My mouth and my brain totally lost track of each other and often I would realize that I had in fact been talking for several minutes without a damn point. Then my mind would have to audible and try to wrap up my rambling tangent into something that resembled coherent thought. I'm sure everyone noticed.

About that time I was just throwing political correctness and tact out the window, which I think makes for a much better time. Rattling the Kettle and I gelled into the nights Lewis and Martin and we took that shit on the road (from the kitchen to the dining room). We were the funniest two guys laughing at our own jokes in the whole house, or at least the room we were standing in.

Tricia seemed to enjoy our humor and when Kim started sharing her story about 1 Mom, 1 Cup, well, the scat was on, and I'm not talking Louis Armstrong. Lisa was amused in a panic-stricken sort of way. It was actually quiet sweet.

At some point L.A. Mommy took the new baby and headed home, which was probably a good idea. Kevin had entered the building and that's never safe for anyone.

We sat and drank, well, Will and I drank, while Kevin and Tricia talked about something with L.A. Daddy. This is where my judgment got the better of me and thanks to Daddy's peer pressure I had more beer, aka, 'orange whip,' between my "last one" at 12:30 and the door at 2am than I had total the rest of the night.

That just meant I could be a total ass and not help clean up. I feel bad about that too, but I don't think it was really that big of a mess. All the dirty stuff was verbal.

*make sure you listen to Neil's holiday concert today!

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