Thursday afternoon, Deek text-messaged me to ask if I want to go see Good Night, And Good Luck at the Camelview with he and Matt. Since I just got paid that day and needed to go fill my car with precious liquid gold and run some errands, I declined. Turns out Hugh Downs was there and did a Q & A afterwards. Deek asked Hugh what blogs he reads. Sadly, Hugh does not read mine.

Yeah, him and everyone else.

On Friday night, Deek, Matt and I decided to try a new Vietnamese place in our neighborhood. While eating our dinner, we noticed a distinguished, bald man enter and eventually sit in a booth by himself. Deek stared and noticed other people were checking the guy out too. "I think that's G. Gordon Liddy," he said.

"Does G. Gordon Liddy even live here?" I asked.

"Everyone lives here these days," he said.

Personally, I'm not convinced it was G. Gordon Liddy, mostly because I could give a rat's ass if it was him or not. When I suggested Deek go ask, he said no, citing that G. Gordon Liddy is a nutcase whack-job who'd probably go ballistic if approached by strangers. Apparently the guy heard this and shot us a look.

"Great! You are going to get our asses kicked by G. Gordon Liddy or his doppelgänger."

Last night, we were all going to go to the state fair, but Deek became violently ill either from food poisoning or good old fashion poisoning by a G. Gordon Liddy look-alike. So I did all the hot stuff a single gay guy does on a Saturday night. Laundry and shopping online for stuff to trick out my Mac mini.

I missed a couple calls while taking a shower. Apparently the Black-Eyed Peas were in town and were at the house of a Lady DJ® that lives next door to some friends. Yet I was comfy in my pajamas and in no condition to haul my ass across town, even for the Black-Eyed Peas.

After all, what would I say? "Hey....you know...like um...that song....you know the one...yeah...that was cool." I'm sure will.i.am would be all, "Who invited this cracker? and Fergie would flee for the hills.