Why, oh, why, did I feel the need to make that second half pot of coffee?

I was perfectly caffeinated and awake, yet I felt incomplete. The second half pot was brewed in the spirit of tasty goodness, and, of course, my genetic impulse to overdo everything, yet it has only resulted in way too much peeing.

Good morning, you bastards, you.

I was thinking of taking a FadeIn vacation this week, but I just can't stay away from your sweet, sweet lovin'.

A bit of random mish mosh to nosh, Josh:

I've been trying to get this fellow Californian's attention via mildly witty and engaging guestbook signings to no avail. Now I know how you must feel when you sign my guestbook and I fail to reply. Let me assure you that, in your case, it is my own laziness and procrastination that keeps me from performing the return signing, and not a personal rejection of you and your belief system.

Oh, yes: As I briefly mentioned in my last entry, my improv team won our battle royale last week in the Improvolympic cagematch. This was an awe inspiring victory, as we six were up against the cream of the crop. The team we faced was partly comprised of people who are the cast of the Saturday night shows, who are the headliners and the biggest audience draw. My team had an incredible night, and the competition was really, really close, but in the end, the audience voted for us and we won.

So that feels good.

If you're in town, and you want to see us tonight...11pm. It's free, baby.

I went to a BBQ on Memorial Day in Hermosa Beach. It was California incarnate. It was just a few doors down from the ocean. Most of the guys walked around shirtless. Girls stood around, comfortably conversing and carousing wearing naught but bikinis.

Am I allowed to say how surreal I thought this was without sounding like some kind of Victorian prude? I mean, when you break it down, it's thirty or forty people standing around in what amounts to their underwear, getting drunk and complaining about how hard it was to find parking. That's probably someone's nightmare. But what do I know? I was the only one there not wearing sandals.

Stats at a glance:

My birthday is a mere thirteen days away.

As of Sunday, I will have been in Los Angeles for one year.

I want pancakes.