I have been gone for quite a while, haven't I? HELLO? Anyone still reading?

Work has ballooned into a THING. I have a day job, can you believe it? Kevin thought black was white for a few days, and I have to admit, it's been a weird feeling. I am at the club Noon to 3 now, paying bills, recieving orders, doing grunt work that all assistant managers have to do I suppose. It has kept me pretty busy, considering I am atill working 4-5 night a week managing the club and bartending (which I still LOVE to do!) So, the 'Wrangler has suffered a bit, but no longer. Look for posts in lots of different sections today, as well as the temporary suspension of the bar review section (it never really got off the ground, anyway). Thinking of making it a SXSW "whats happening now" kind of page for a while as I am volunteering like mad at the festival.

As for the blog, here's what I think.

There is nothing like waking up on an icy cold 25 degree morning next to someone keeping you warm. It puts a smile on your face and a strength in your stride, no matter how cold the wind may be in your face. Thank you.

Wow. Productivity is exhausting. More to come......

I gotta tell ya, there's nothing like baseball. Tech took two this weekend, one from TCU and one from tournament host Texas State, er, I mean SWT. Highlights included a Tech no-hitter that stretched into the seventh inning of the SWT game, an incessant ragging of the all girl SWT baseball fan club that involved 30 guys answering their dainty rendition of the SWT fight song with heartily sung verses of the Theme from Laverne and Shirley, and a very very VERY foolish Bat boy. The Grand Pubah tore him a new one, let me tell ya. What were you thinking, kid? Never swear at a Heckler, man, read the Ten Commandments

So far I have not been particularly swept up in Winter Olympic fever. I watched a medal ceremony for free-style snowboarding in which (gasp) all three medalists were Americans! They looked like three kids off the X-games, cleaned up a little. All three also looked totally stoned, which gave me and Kevin a good laugh. "Dude, if we peel off the gold foil is there chocalate under here? I am STARVING! Whoa, check out the big flame."

Also, luger's are idiots. Somebody's gonna get killed. I mean, the Bobsleder's have like, a big contraption around them to protect them. It's only made of fiberglass, but it's better than hurtling down a mountain at 80 miles an hour FLAT ON YOUR ASS!

Regardless, here are my favorite Olympic moments so far. The US hockey team beat Switzerland (like we didn't all see that coming). Anytime they win I am happy.
Bob Costas encouraged the bartender at one Olympians parents bar in Vermont to by the house a round after the daughter of the proprieters won a gold medal, only to find out that it is against the law to give away drinks in Vermont, and Bob ended up costing the poor bartender around $170 bucks. The next day, Bob sent the guy his credit card info, enough money for a second round of drinks, and a $200 tip.

I also watched figure skating, which I don't normally do, and happened to see the two Canadians. The entire performance. I saw the Russians, who won the gold, right before them, and there is no denying that they were good. The Canadians, who I only paid complete attention to because I was glad to see they managed to look more like a Gap ad than Sigfried and Roy, were incredible! I was as shocked as anybody that they didn't win, and I am ususally rooting for someone to get cross checked during figure skating. That's why I was so glad to see this, because they earned it. It's nice to see that in an international community that has been falling apart with terror and war, we can come together and recognize that, oops, we screwed up, but let's just say we were all winners and try not kill each other, ok? Good job guys.

All right already, for those of you who are posting like made about Valentine's day and love and shit, here ya go. As long as you all understand what you are really celebrating here. This comes from, I swear to God (haha), www.catholic.org.

"Valentine was a holy priest in Rome, who, with St. Marius and his family, assisted the martyrs in the persecution under Claudius II. He was apprehended, and sent by the emperor to the prefect of Rome, who, on finding all his promises to make him renounce his faith in effectual, commended him to be beaten with clubs, and afterwards, to be beheaded, which was executed on February 14, about the year 270. Pope Julius I is said to have built a church near Ponte Mole to he memory, which for a long time gave name to the gate now called Porta del Popolo, formerly, Porta Valetini. The greatest part of his relics are now in the church of St. Praxedes. His name is celebrated as that of an illustrious martyr in the sacramentary of St. Gregory, the Roman Missal of Thomasius, in the calendar of F. Fronto and that of Allatius, in Bede, Usuard, Ado, Notker and all other martyrologies on this day. To abolish the heathens lewd superstitious custom of boys drawing the names of girls, in honor of their goddess Februata Juno, on the fifteenth of this month, several zealous pastors substituted the names of saints in billets given on this day." The reason they tried to make him renounce his beliefs had something to do with marrying people in secret.

Not that I am bitter, in any way.

I'm just not in love right now, and today, it blows, just a little.

Zuzia brought me chocolate covered strawberries, though. She's pretty cool.

The kiss was velvety soft, not quite sweet but tangy with alcohol, feminine without being too delicate, sexual without being aggressive. It was great, no question about it. It came from a stranger, I still don't know her name. It came at the request of a coworker and friend. "Don't show Jeff your breasts, he's been at work every night of Mardi Gras all week. He's seen Sixth street packed from curb to curb with drunken idiots wearing gaudy plastic trinkets. He's seen things that would make the crew of the 'Girls Gone Wild' video sit down and cry. He is completely de-sensitized to the female breast. Just give him something to make him happy, and he'll give you all the beads you want." Thanks Sara.

And then the Kiss was over, and I look up from my newfound friend to see her boyfriend standing right behind us. Thanks Sara.

His response? A big grin. "Hey, It's Mardi Gras! I don't care what she does!"

I'm supposed to give up something for Lent today. I'm giving up Mardi Gras and getting some sleep.

It's absolutely amazing the things that grown men can be amused by. Kevin and I spent 30 minutes throwing a purple foam rubber ball back and forth across the kitchen. The ball, by the way, is a cat toy. The cats sat there, watching, as if to say, "Mom! Those big kids took our ball and won't give it back!"

Then the cats wandered off, 'cause lets face it, they're cats and don't really give a crap what we do.

As 4 a.m. rapidly approaches, I am in pain. My legs hurt. My right knee is doing its thing, which is to tense up and not want to bend. My right shoulder, which I broke playing hockey, is doing its thing, which is to uncomfortably make a loud "POP" about every five minutes. I worked what tiny little bit of an ass I have right off tonight.

Recently I have been reading Alison's anecdotes about her waitressing job, and they have amused me. She hasn't been doing it very long, (waitressing that is. Swimming pools, movie stars,) and she seems to get a kick out of the trivialites of human behavior that you witness when you serve things to people for a living. I am amused by her observations because they are completely common and recognizable to me, like old t-shirts that I wear even though they're not cool, or even very clean. I have become, much to my mother's chagrin, a professional. I am in the Bar Biz.

For a long time, I was a writer, studying and struggling to get published and make it one day. I was determined to be an artist, but was never in love with the romance of the starving artist. I need to eat. I also need to play, and pay bills, and have a decent car and nice clothes and I am addicted to music and movies. In other words, I gotta have cashflow, baby. It's all about the benjamins, beeatch. So, I got into bartending.

Guess what? I absolutely LOVE IT. (Mom, quit reading right now.)

I really do. I have a blast at work. Some people go out, party, do the town, have a great time. I HOST their parties, I AM their good time. It's great for feeding my ego, which has an appetite like a sumo wrestler. Everyone wants to know the bartender, everyone want to feel connected, everyone wants a "hook-up". I meet 10 new single women a day. I make new friends nightly. I have a high energy level because everyone wants in on my action. I get to people watch, I've heard every sob story and dirty joke on the planet, and I never seem to get bored with it. It wears me out, physically sometimes (like tonight, when my club sold over $10,000 in beer and liquor only, and did it all in less than 6 hours), but I get home and I am so pumped on adrenlaine I can't sleep right away. I am the manager now too, so I have more new friends, more connections, more responsibility, and more worry than ever, and I just can't get enough.

These kinds of jobs are supposed to be temporary. (Old joke, someone asks what you do for a living and you say "I'm a bartender" and they respond, "So you're an actor, eh?" and you say, "Nope. I'm a writer. Actor's aren't smart enough to do what I do, they wait tables.") I recently heard about a local musician I know who has a bartending gig somewhere, and instantly wondered if he were any good at it. I know he can play and sing. He's great, check him out if you get a chance, but can he do what I do? Really REALLY good bartenders are hard to come by. I am the best you'll ever see, and I'm learning to run the whole show now, taking things in new more exciting directions.

Am I still a writer? Absolutely. You're reading my words right here, aren't you? How's my artistic soul holding up? Like a champ. Being a good bartender makes me a better writer. Being a good writer makes me a better bartender. (Mom, start reading again, and really listen this time) The two do not have to be mutually exclusive, nor do I want them to be.

So, here's the funniest joke I've heard this week. A duck walks into a bar and askes the bartender, You got any grapes?, and he says No. The next day the same duck comes in, and asks the bartender, You got any grapes?, and he says no. The next day, and every day after for a month, the duck walks in and asks the bartender, You got any grapes? and every day he says No. Finally one day the bartender has had enough. The duck comes in that day and says, You got any grapes? and the bartender says, Damn it, I don't have any fucking grapes and if you ask me that one more time I am gonna grab you and nail your little webbed feet to the bar! The next day the duck comes back and asks the bartender, You got any nails? He says, No I dont have any nails, and the ducks says, Cool, You got any grapes?