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06.16.04
I tried quick oats for a few days longer. I was trying to avoid things like refined sugar, but, as with all of my frail resolutions, I faltered under the insatiable demands of my taste buds and added sugar to the mix. It was still remarkably unsatisfying, but I was able to eat the entire bowl full without exhausting my gag reflex. I have a new nephew. Aaron Bradford Sullivan, 8.25 lbs, born at 4:06 pm on 6/16/04. I wanted to name him Eoen or Cairig, but my Gaelic suggestions were foregone in favor of more contemporary names. People don't even want to work hard at pronunciation any more. This is why we have so many Heathers and Mikes. Last weekend, we had a bachelor party for my good friend, Jonathan Wickersham, whose stringent adherence to schedules and practicalities forced us to hold the party a full four weeks before the fact. In response to this inconvenience, we retaliated by coercing him into downing four Irish car bombs. It's a horrible moniker, I know, but a lovely drink. Personally, I prefer a straight Guinness. It tastes more of the earth and allows you to retain all of your motor skills. Needless to say, I spoke volumes that night as I am wont to do under the influence. I think I proceeded with some discourse about John Brown's adherance to segregationalist philosophies. I don't think anyone was listening at that point. Honestly, though, it was one of the best times I've ever head. The only attendees were Michael, Scot, Wick, and myself, and that's just about right. No glitzy dance music or large kegs to attract assholes: only four good friends that care more about discussing theology while drunk rather than pussy. I also forgot what a great guy Scot is. We need to take another journey. Perhaps Russia or the Orient next time. |