"So that's how long it takes baby batter to travel from the tube to the egg? Oh, and is that chicken?"

So people have been asking all week "How was Doctor Poontang-a-lang's party?"

DELICIOUS, that's how.

I was buried in meat, beer, good conversation, and wonderfully cheerful vibes. It's times like these when I'm glad I shunned everybody just to study verb forms and other shit that would be useless to 80% of the people I talk to. You hear me, people I alienated at home and in Japan? I GOT FILLED WITH MEAT BY WAY OF A PROFESSIONAL LOVE BURGER MANAGER. Suck on that while you converse with "friends."

The best part? While I sat down to get things started, the doctor told me about his research project at USC, or as I call it, "where I couch-surf at in Cali." He went on and on about telling me how sperm travels through the fallopian tube and how he was working with various hosts and theories for some projects at that time. It was good to see a man who was into his work, although like many members of the "pull out nation"(tm), I kept wondering why somebody would fortify themselves with that kind of information when they could be watching Adult Swim and not having to worry about any "problems" that may require, say, 100,000 dollars worth of money from your bank account.

(By the way, I become an uncle next month. I will let you know if it stops my solipsistic assholitry at all)

But even with that said, I must admit that you have to have respect for a guy that invites you over, welcomes you into his beautiful home, introduces you to lovely aromatherapists who hit on you all evening, and then spouts on and on about vaginas and semen before you take bite one of the delicious bbq he's prepared for you. It's like baking a cake for a wedding reception, and then loudly talking to everybody within earshot about how painful and long-winded your shits have been lately.

"It's like squeezing frozen fudge through a twisted water hose."

The second best part, aside from being scouted for a new job, was when I was asked to "present flowers" to some nurse he had there for some reason. Whatever, it was his party. It wasn't like he was asking me to wed her... at least I hope he wasn't. I guess you had to be there. And yes, there are pictures. And yes, I did bow down like Sir Lance-a-lot in one of them.

Good weekend. Props to you, Dr. Fun Mound. You are fighting the good fight.