The things I'd do To A plate Of lo Mein

I forgot about a couple of filler events that happened before the excitement of the following days and since I'm in a lazy frame of mind I think I'll just write those events instead. Sorry, but I'm in control of this literary journey and that's how things are going to be.
There are two things in Georgia that absolutely cannot be found in Florida. You see Florida is a flat stretch of land that rests with a comfortable mean elevation of about 100 feet above sea level. This means that: a) it's a lot easier to walk from place to place, but mountains are nowhere to be found and b) there are no basements. One might say that Georgia has a third bit of interest in that it snows, but parts of Northern Florida do see snow in the winter, and I believe I heard it even snowed in Orlando today.

We never did see snow or stand on top of any mountains, but we did get to visit our (my) very first basement which happened to be the living quarters of our good friend Paul. It was a bit messy, but we spent a bit of time looking through his record collection, playing with instruments, and scrounging around for more food to eat. I found that after all this time I can still play bass pretty well. Some might argue better than before.

We were like dumpy raccoons in search of reading materials and things with naked ladies in them. Before leaving Paul lent me Vince Flin's Term Limits, two Oishinbo mangas, and a third manga called Disappearance Diaries. Generally I hate manga, but the subject matter looked interesting and Paul swore they were good. Literally. He just started cursing loudly. All in all it was a successful scavenge, and Sean even managed to hurt himself using Paul's push up thingy.

The only other event of significance that I left out was when we went to dinner with Paul's sister Cheryl... I think that's how its spelled. I don't remember what every one ate, but we talked Sean into order the house special "death sauce" with his meal. One of those things that supposed to be so hot that you gotta sign a waver blah blah blah. Well our waiter was obviously new on the job and kept goofing up. He said he handed us the death sauce, but what Sean got was barely even spicy. I even had to admit it was a joke, and I can't stand spicy stuff. Maybe the waiter screwed up, but we'll never know.

Apparently Yogis can be dicks too. Till next time.