That same night the other bartender (not the hottie I'm chasing but another hottie - life is rough when your bitchin about hangin with hotties huh) decides that I have to go to this after hours spot with her. All night its rubbing her ass on my crotch, sexy dancing, kisses and biting, grabbing this, pinching that. I was already drunk, and I just don't do drunk sex anymore, its retarded. But now I've got three bartenders all from the same joint, all goddamn sexy, all putting the major tease on me. I didn't get home till 9am. Sunday was real productive.

At least there are cooking shows on PBS on sunday. Nothing is better for relaxing and recovering than cooking shows. I like to watch em when I'm stable too. It's one of those feel good type of things. They make wondeerful food, give ya great tips, there is often amusing craziness, and gently sentimental musings of how they came to be chefs and remembering what their momma used to do in the kitchen. Plus my dad and I used to sit and watch the Frugal Gourmet, Yan Can Cook, Julia Child, that creole guy, and others on saturday mornings, one of our few bonding experiences when I was young. Luckily we've had more recently as I've grown up and become less stupid, and he's gotten older and mellowed out tons. I don't have cable right now so I can't watch the Food Network 24/7 like I used to. So the three hours I get on Sunday are a treat.

I'm a fantastic cook. I'm not just sucking myself off here. People that I cook for always insist I should go into the restaurant/catering field. I always figured it would turn something I loved into work, and I'd hate that. My parents were always going on weekend trips cause they bred, trained, and showed dogs, Viszlas to be exact. And my sister would always go with them. And I was always left on my own with the house. I'd either throw a disgusting drink and bake o rama. Or I'd throw a dinner party. I did a Greek feast with moussaka, dolemades, marinated lamb kebabs, asparagus with avgo lemano sauce, greek salad, fresh pita, fried kasseri cheese, and of course baklava. The Italian dinner had mixed greens with a citrus/balsamic gastric vinegrette, pesto lasagna, fresh baked bread, roasted garlic braised artichokes, chicken florentine, and a marscapone/ricotta cheese cake with ameretto cookie crust. The Chinese dinner had hot and sour soup, pot stickers, black bean prawns, peapods and mushrooms in a loo sauce, emporer's fried rice, and fried lychee fruits. I did Thai, German, Morrocan, French, Cajun, BBQ, Korean, Ukrainian, and on and on. I've thrown a few Thanksgivings, mostly traditional. And I'm always on call for certain friends when they throw parties to be the masta chef.

I'm getting hungry - later you.