In looking over my recent posts I’ve realized that I haven’t really done too much updating about what is ACTUALLY happening in my life. Sure, you’ve seen a fictitious political convention of Mikes, and, yes, you have heard me discuss daytime television, but I haven’t really told you anything substantial. That likely has to do with the fact that nothing very substantial has happened! Nevertheless, I do have a couple stories to tell…

The first is that Heather and I met the awesome and charming Mommy blogging legend Meghan and her hubby DJ in Santa Barbara on Saturday! This was a very fun experience except for two problems:

PROBLEM ONE – We were at one of those hip college bars where the waitresses (impossibly skinny and attractive nineteen-year-olds) dress as sexy football players. Now, back in the day, I remember going to these kind of bars, and they were always very playful and known for their controversial names of drinks. So, when our waitress came over and mentioned their specials the following awkward exchange happened:

WAITRESS: “And we have a special on buckets of -”

ME (interrupting): “Fuckets? Woah! These bars are nuts! What are you offering, hon? Fuckets? What the hell is a fucket?”

I laugh hysterically and look to my wife. She eyes me like I am mentally challenged. I then look to Meghan. She is trying to be polite but clearly thinks I am a fool. I then look to DJ. He is staring at the waitresses’ breasts. (Not really, but that would be a good punch line! In truth he too thought I was a Simple Jack.)

A long, awkward beat passes until…

WAITRESS: “I, uh, said bucket. Just bucket.”

ME (mortified): “I see. Well, uh, we’ll take two.”

After this disasterous moment things rebounded until the end of the night when…

PROBLEM 2 – Heather told me she had to throw up thanks to a large helping of carnitas and margaritas and needed to leave immediately. We quickly got the bill and headed out.

Once on the street Meghan and DJ suggested getting ice cream, but Heather’s poor (drunken) stomach meant we had to leave. So we, uh, ran off.

On the way to the car Heather felt better and became worried that Meghan and DJ thought we had ran off and abandoned them. I told her she was insane just as Heather’s cell bleeped. It was a text from Meghan that read: “Am I drunk or did you just run away from us?”

So I guess we did. But it was none of my doing! Anyhoo, Meghan and Heather texted for the next ten minutes and squared things away so much so that they’ve started this site!

Hmm. I should also mention that, even though I am a baseball fan and not huge on football, I had a great time at the party Heather’s parents once again hosted for the first USC football game of the year. They always go all out and get a margarita machine, old style popcorn maker, and put three or four TVs outside by the pool, each of which plays the game! Oh, and they grill awesome food and make great appetizers. The party was great, as are Heather’s parents!

Well, I got nothing else except for the fact that I am the real father of Bristol Palin’s unborn baby, but that story is boring.