Happy Martin Luther King Day!!

Well, as you can tell, I'm much better now.
And...
I'm back in the game.
After making some updates, I've learned that something special awaits me in theaters this May:



I can't wait. I really can't hardly wait.

Also, Mikey's new site is available! I dunno where he got the idea of me as A Dream Chaser from, but's good to hear from him again.
Meantime, I should go on to explain the crappy end of last year, and the huge start to the new year...

...My 60GB iPod was stolen...
December 16th, 2005.
Exactly three days before my birthday, I was cordially invited to another Sagitarius' birthday party at this place called Iguana's. I figured that since I missed her party the previous year, I was gonna make a solid effort to go this time around. Hence, I cleared the line at North Fork Bank, rinsed my face off, dusted my Aldo's, which are now defunct, and took the L train to the N train to party. Once I got there, I was treated to a sex on the beach, courtesy of the birthday girl, and Blue Hypnotiq. I danced with her quite a bit, and then I sat down with our friends from college. This one SSF, Rumpelier [yeah, I couldn't believe that was her name either], struck a conversation with me about the change in times since we left Hunter. We talked, and talked, and talked, until the birthday girl pulled me back on the dancefloor. Bored, she pulled Rumpelier over for a three-way. Bored still, she found her close friend of hers to join them. And there we were, four of us, dancing. Things got a little exotic after that, and the next thing I knew, I was left with Rumpelier, and we stood there, struck by the absurdity of it all.
"At least she's having fun," she says.
Awkwardly, we both stood there for awhile. I then decided to find out where her mind was at by asking her if she wanted to finish what the birthday girl started. A "why not?" later, we were getting down ourselves! It was so cool. Two of us, working-class players, jamming to the funk & reggae. I had such a great time with her. In fact, we were dancing to our own rhythm near the entrance; everyone trying to get in had went through us. Not that I truly cared, but I did have some concern...
Hey, you wanna head over by our area? All the people passin' through us are kind of getting annoying.
"Naw; screw them. I'm having fun over here."
She then admits to me that she's so comfortable dancing with me. Oh, is that a fact? Apparently, with all the other guys trying to kick game to her and such, she just got overwhelmed. So to see someone who just being himself, having some fun, and with a great smile, gave her some relief. I'm glad to have obliged.
Though it was only for a few minutes, it felt like a few hours. We were swinging and swaying, salsa-ing and jamming. It was truly a blast. Finally, Rumpelier got tired. We sat back down and talked some more. (Hey, for a petite, she IS quite a supe-hottie.) And the dudes there knew that. In fact, one of them had so much guts, he came up to her and started kicking game. She looked at me, with the eyes of "do you see what I mean? You see what I go through?" Chuckling, I recommended to her to take him up on his invitation, just to see what might transpire. And so, sighing heavily, she agreed. Next thing you know, they were on the dance floor. Looking at the time (several to ten), I realised that I haven't eaten yet, and should take the opportunity to do so. As I look up, Rumpelier returns, shaking her head. "Not my type," she insisted. She then says it's time she wrapped up and go. I learn that she's in Queens, which kinda far for me. So she's taking mass transit; that's good, I can walk her to the subway. I offered, she accepted. I informed the birthday girl that I was calling it a night, and offer her a drink for treating me to a wonderful night. She kissed me, saying that my being there was all she needed. Fair enough; but I still felt bad about it.
I told that to Rumpelier on the way to the station. "Oh no, she's like that. Add the fact that your birthday's in three days, oh, you're her best college colleague." We traded niceties, and I was on my to the ESPNzone for some food. I found an extra kick in my step that night. I was on cloud nine. And nothing could change that.
I got to sit on the big couch at the ESPNzone. I dropped off my jacket while I headed to the restroom. I came back, and ordered some shrimp bistro, with Vodka and a coke. I watched Kobe Bryant and the Lakers cream The Washington Wizards. I'm telling you, I was feeling big; the night could not have gone any better. The only piss-off about it, was that I had to go to work the very next day.
Midnight rolls around. I'm feeling like I'm king of the world. I walked down 42nd Street from 7th Avenue to Lexington Avenue for the 4 train. I got there, and not even the funk in the air could bring me down. No 4 train, no problem! I'll just hop on the 6, and I'll be home in a little while longer than anticipated. I sat down, and prepared myself for Nanko (funny, since Lucky You didn't even apply to the mood of the moment). I pulled out my Kangol cap, to place it on my head. I pulled out my headphones, to put them on my ears. I went for the last piece of the puzzle; I had to dig deeper that usual (maybe so no jabronies could take it); I feel the case still (thank God, it's still there, and softly yanked out...

An iPod case. With no iPod inside.

...

A million thoughts raced through my head. I remember fighting for a clearer conscience, trying to retrace footstep after footstep. First thing was to make it look like my iPod was still inside; so I pretended to plug in my headphones, and drift away. Second, I remebered that I didn't get Rumpelier's number. My only justification was that if I do see her next time, we'll click immediately and my chance will come. Third, I thought of all the places I could've lost it. Then it hit me: ever since I left the N train to get to Iguana's, it never left my inside pocket. Only one last possibilty remained:
My iPod was stolen. But where?
Could it've been ESPNzone, where I left my jacket to take a leak? Could it have been Iguana's, while I was dancing with Rumpelier? Could it've been that guy who was talking to her? Could it've been an elaborate plot altogether?
I'll never know.
But to the bastard(s) who did take it:
All I ask is that you enjoy my collection, and delete my contacts.
That's all I ask.

**deep breath**

Oh I'm fine guys, I can assure you of that. Now that my Pod has been replaced with the much sleeker, black ViPod, I'm much better. And at the same time, much wearier of where and when I take it out with me.
And to think, two more weeks, and I would've had that iPod photo for a year. That is the first time an iPod doesn't survive with me for a year...
More to come, I give you my word this time...