Dinner And A Mezzo Forte.

I hate when people decide to come over and I have to put my pants back on.

That’s why I go out a lot. Three times this past weekend. Restaurants come and go. (We all have that friend who insists on reminding us that two-thirds of restaurants fail within the first year. Don’t be that guy.) But Bandera is an exception. They figured out a few simple things: put a cool bar in the center of the place, serve strong choices (they’re owned by Hillstone, so it’s essentially a higher-end Houston’s) and cultivate a cool atmosphere – in this case, with a jazz trio.

For 20 years, Bandera has been packed every single night, with a 40-minute wait. That’s rare.

Bandera macho salad (made with rotisserie chicken) and French dip. Both phenomenal.

On the other end of the spectrum, while watching the Jets at Sharkeez, I won dinner for two. I’ll be treating some lucky date to free bar food very soon. You’re welcome, baby.

Now This?

If you think this is bad, the real issue is that one day elderly drivers will know how to text.

My Fraternal Brother From A Different Maternal Mother.

My fraternity was the place I first learned how to chug a drink – which comes in handy nowadays in airport security lines.

It’s also where I forged lifelong friendships with my brothers, including Steve Richman, who was back in town the past couple days. Steve gives motivational speeches all over the country, and has some pretty impressive range. He’s spoken to companies in every remote part of the US. The highest-security prison in the country asked him to design trust exercises for its correctional officers.

He’s been asked many times to write a book about his expertise, but out of modesty he’s declined. I tried to persuade him the past two nights to write that book, but so far no success. Maybe I’ll hire Steve to motivate me to motivate him.

As I drove home last night, I thought about a lot of old friends and wondered what they’re up to right now. Then I realized: they’re playing on their phone. Everyone is playing on their phone.

31 Days Of August.

Why put anything in my iPhone’s calendar, when I can just wait until someone texts me “Where the hell are you?”

Another busy month, captured one second per day:

500 Days Of Summer: The Weekend.

“Stay out of the heat and stay hydrated.”

Thank you, news anchor. It’s my first summer.

It was as hot as it gets here, and downright unbearable. Adult me is starting to concede that a major contributor to global warming was kid me leaving the front door open and heating the whole goddamn world.

In spite of the crazy temps, it was a very good Labor Day weekend, full of visits to all my greatest hits. Drinks at The Wellesbourne. Dinner at Eatalian Café. Double cheeseburger and a shake from Five Guys.

To make up for all the junk I ate over the weekend, I plan to do the elliptical for 18 hours today. Seeya there.

It May Be Labor Day Weekend…

…but I put my tummy to work.

Gnocchi with ragu sauce at Eatalian Café. Perfecto.

Which Is A Worse Form Of Animal Cruelty?

Naming your pet William Shakespeare, or Bo Derek?