I went to my boss' wedding yesterday. Fucking blast. Here's some background--I used to be the managing editor of a regional lifestyle magazine owned by a married couple, and I hated every minute of it. The people who owned it had no ethics whatsoever. They did shit like promise articles to advertisers, which is really not cool. They also lied to advertisers about subscription and circulation numbers. They were also really mean, nasty, rotten people with no friends. Employees were obligated to hang out with them on weekends, despite the fact that they are not interesting people. Then they had a baby, and the wife became like Godzilla with pms. I lost my license for DWI, and they spent the next 3 months trying to get enough sack together to fire me. Eventually they did. While hanging out at my favorite bar, the owner's boyfriend offered me a job at his sandwich shop. I really needed a job within walking distance to my apartment, so I accepted. It turned out to be the best job ever.

I didn't realize it, but I was drinking a whole lot, trying to forget how much I hated my job. I don't have that problem now. The job is easy, and I never think about it when I am not on the clock. This frees up my delicate mind with lots of energy to pursue writing and such. I couldn't be happier.

So the wedding is basically a party at a golf course, with about 150 of my closest friends. Drank like a river, as did everyone else. Eventually we all headed to the bar, where we dazzled the common folk with our sparkling conversation and stunning clothes. Out of nowhere, a woman approached me to tell me that she didn't like my tie. For no reason. An hour later, I'm at a very Denny's-esque restaurant with her and two of her friends. They were kind enough to give me a ride home. While the fashion critic was driving alon in the front seat, I was making out with one of her friends in the back. Then the other friend in back starts rubbing my leg. I started rubbing her leg. Then the one I was kissing noticed, and said, "What are you doing?" "I don't know," I said. "Just go with it." Well, she didn't just go with it. She suddenly realized she was possibly headed for a night she might regret, and I was dropped off at home, by myself. Everyone left on good terms, but damned if I didn't try to fuck it up. Apparently lots of people have had three ways, but not this guy. The closest I've come is one night in London when I was 18, twin sisters left about a dozen hickeys all over my chest. That was cool, but it was also a long time ago. I had a blast last night, but I can't help but wonder if there's a woman out there writing in her blog, "I met the biggest jerk last night..."

I just watched Sarah Vowell on "The Daily Show." This is going to sound incredibly strange, but she is so fucking hot I can barely stand it. This unregulated heat is generated by her intelligence, which is highlighted by her lovely and dark sense of humor. Also, I think I can envision the exact look on her face at the moment she loses patience with me. I have a problem.

Marlon Brando died. I'm not sure how I feel, since he hasn't done anything great in ages. And I hear he was a prick to work with. He was great in "The Godfather," though.

I was checking on my favorite blog a minute ago, and noticed in the list of other people's blogs on the side bar that the blog listed under mine is gone. I can't remember what it was, but it has me worried. If my blog isn't interesting enough, I may suffer the delete command myself. Now I will have that in mind every time I post.

The pedal steel guitar I won on ebay showed up today, but I don't have the energy to play it. Or rather, learn how to play it. A lot different than a regular guitar. I just want to know how to make those cool country sounds so I can play along with some Whiskeytown songs.