apparently...
I don't spit game. This is the phrase I've been taught by a 15yr old I met through the Charlotte Players. I'm doing Fiddler on the Roof and after pictures (think I got a link to them somewhere) on Monday I drove her to the mall while we were waiting for rehearsal to start, my inability to "spit game" was pointed out when I completely failed to hit on the big tittied tattooed manager of Journey's. (Her ears were prominent it disconcerted me.)

So how is it that last night at Czar while I was enjoying a stolen ciggy drinking some Italian beer (Peroni?) that I was descended upon by 3-4 females of much hotness? I learned their names and we all took pictures together (if I can get copies these too shall be posted) and I even obtained a myspace name from the incident. Very odd. If I knew how to bottle whatever pheromones I was exuding when I got surrounded I would be a much happier chap. (Of course it might have something to do with the fact that I was at the only table with open chairs... but a lad can dream, right?)


Ok... ugh I had to join snapfish to be able to look at the pictures. Why do old people not know about photobucket or flickr?


yonder is me in my blue russian tunic.
Full cast and ye olde anachronistic reporter van.
Well... at least we have a well.
Slightly better picture of yours truly on the right.

Meh... there's 297 pictures here I'm not going to search through if you have snapfish and are really bored click here.