Doesn’t the site look much better? I think it does. Good job, F.J. for streamlining things on here. Especially the drop down menus. Don’t think that I didn’t notice, because I did. Yesterday, I painstakingly rebuilt the last of the General Photos pages and tucked all of the other photo projects under a parent page called Ongoing Photo Projects. Not just a clever name.

Last night I was knee deep in rebuilding the last gallery when I heard keys in the front door. Since Pancake Land was supposed to be camping, I figured it was probably my landlords. It was strange that no one called. Luckily I wasn’t performing some weird fetishist dick pulling something-or-another, even if it was just Pancake Land. The last thing she needs to discover about me at this point in our relationship is that I have weird secret masturbatory rituals involving leather belts and face paint. I don’t by the way, if you were wondering.

As it turns out, White Chocolate got too hot out on the river and, for all intensive purposes, started to melt. So, they decided to pack it up early and head home. It was a nice surprise to have my sweet baby home early, even if I was in a bachelor-pad-weekend state of mind. Pancake Land came home to find smoked sausages cooked in crappy beer (with garlic, chives, and crushed red pepper) and a pot of chili on the stove top. I had my Beastie Boys tape in the boombox. I had the toilet seat up. I was perpetually scratching my balls. Not because they itched, but because I could. And then she came home. I did not have to explain to her the logic behind my actions. She has witnessed first hand the “parents-are-not-home-we-can-do-whatever-we-want-because-we-are-grown-ups” mentality from me before. She was impressed to find me not walking around in my underwear. I told her that I had already gone through the underwear walking around shouting pee pee doo doo phase of the weekend.

Well, this weekend went by too quickly for me. I have an article to write here in a little while and chemistry to study. But not before I make some eggs and toast for the sleepy girl in the next room. I was hunting for a good image of the Bob Seger lip sync scene from Risky Business to stick somewhere in this post, but I could not find anything that suited my need. Lame. Anyway, off to make eggs. More soon. ~SC