So we went to the Seessel's last night. My beer purchase? Red Dog! $2.89 a six pack, y'all. It has a pleasing, sweetish, malt liquor quality to it. I think I've had Red Dog once before, at a Saints game in New Orleans, so the associations are good.

Not that anything interesting has happened since my last update. Still, I don't think I should let lack of content get in the way of updating, right? Therefore, you get leftovers from the weekend.

Saturday night Sonya and I were playing Scattergories (yes, we live the exciting lives of big city young people). The letter was W, the topic was Things at the Circus.

Time was up.

"All I could thing of," Sonya said, "was wittle cars. And wingmaster."

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Sonya: Comic Genius. I thought that was a hoot.

Sunday, while visiting Angie, she showed us a letter that David had written her. She dated David a few years ago, but broke it off when he robbed her house.

David is in rehab now, and apparently he's in that stage where he tries to apologize to all the people he has wronged. I read the letter aloud, and while I was entertained by his misspelling ("I'm sory for how I miss treated you") I didn't feel that it was adequate.

"What you need to do, Angie," I told her, "is write him a letter back that says his little apology is not sufficient and that you won't forgive him until he pays you back for everything he stole."

"And you should send him an invoice."

Also Sunday night, we were eating at Applebee's and having a lot of fun with James' lactose intolerance.

"You eat one piece of cheese," I said, "and you have to register with the nearest military base for the next twenty-four hours."

"I'm a national asset," James said proudly.

Then it degenerated into a long, rambling conversation where James was a 007-esque bad guy named Mister Poop Gun.

"I haven't sheen you in agesh, Mishter Poop Gun," Bond would say, "shtill up to your shtinking mishchieviushnesh?"

Hey! Ricky from My So-Called Life is now on Party of Five. Good to see him working again. Now somebody just needs to give Krakow a job.

Is it just me, or is Mariah Carey really whoring herself these days? Every time I see her she's wearing less and less clothing. What is she trying to do, get in good with the hip-hop crowd? It may make you popular, Mariah, but that crowd won't respect you. You're just one more 'ho to them. Even though your old stuff was empty pop, at least you had some dignity. Now you seem to be flushing that down the toilet just to hang out with Puff Daddy. Come on, Mariah, pull out of that nosedive and put some clothes on.

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