You might suppose, since is the inaugural post, that I would try to say something smart here to set an auspicious tone. If you know me, then you know better. If you just stumbled onto this blog, you'd do better to suppose otherwise. If you followed me here from one of my comments in the blog cosmos, then you're expectations are already suitably low, but some weird curiosity led you here anyway. Hi.

I've already had too much to drink tonight, so I'll be even less clever than usual. I'm sitting in Oklahoma City drinking their state-mandated weak beer (if for nothing but that alone, fuck you Oklahoma), listening to music on the internet (because I'm neither Christian nor a Country fan... nor am I all that nostalgic for hair bands), and at a loss for anything to do other than write.

Don't get me wrong, Oklahoma. I like you. It's not you... it's me. You're wide open and traffic-free, but I don't like to drive. You don't have any sidewalks, but it's unfair of me to ask them from you (your citizens have no use for them). Your bus system is shit, but that's just how you roll.

Two weekends ago, when my girlfriend came out to visit, and I wanted to impress her with how cool OKC really is... oh shut up, my intentions were good. A memory from that weekend is us standing in line at Super WalMart, holding our noses because the entire store smelled of soiled diaper, while the obese family in front of us break open their package of hot wings and start noshing right there. In line. The matriarch licking her fingers before dipping into her pocket to grab some soon-to-be greasy cash to pay the unfortunate cashier.

I know the above may sound kind of snobby but, jesus, can you not wait until you get home, or at least to your car? And the place smelled of wet shit... why didn't that put a damper on their appetite? And why do I care?

I'm one judgmental fuck.