Many types of entertainment exist, television shows capture an audience utilizing a vast array of techniques. A soap opera, for example, moves at the pace of a snail, updating ever so slowly, each and every day. Does that keep you hooked? Maybe. Do you need to watch it every day to keep abreast of the most relevant story line? No effing way. There are movies, with entertainment value that is immeasurable, and they either leave you voracious, or tempt you into believing a sequel is impending. Welcome to Maliblog, the antithesis of the Soap Opera. I've baited this hook with the human equivalent to catnip. Just when you thought I was going to keep a daily narrative of the ironic comedy that is my life, I go off the grid. How you like me now? Well, as you were just made aware of the Gasparilla debauchery, you now are aware of my re-emergence into the land of mundane life detail internet publication. Oh, hello there.
Gasparilla happened, in a big way. Luckily nobody lost an eye, so all the patches I bought were in vain. A progression of weekends believed to be insurmountable were born following that particular holiday. James Cameron I am not. Albeit Titanic at the time, retrospectively, perhaps not so much, so I will not subject you to every detail of these weekly holidays.
Shana had a birthday party, Boogie Nights, I realized another phobia of mine, roller skates. I didn't fall, Molly did. Drew and Shelly vacationed in FL, rented a huge house on the beach. We had a weekend full of booze, bonfires, starfish wishes and sandcastle dreams. I had a SoHo outing with surprise Jazz bands/jazz hands, a Seth and Joey D reunion, complete with a call to Seth Rogen with Lisa Love. I made my way back to the beach. Hit some old haunts with Mollz, didn't fare so well. Returned to the beach, dominated the Tigers game. Commenced a completely inappropriate Spring Break, at 28 years old.......like sands through the hour glass, so are the days of our lives.......
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