Dave Williams of Drowning Pool is dead at age 30.
My only question... Did they let the body hit the floor?
Speaking of bodies hitting the floor, I actually shirked sidework to go dancing tonight. No, you didn't misread, I went dancing. At the Rage, even. Maybe I'll post a few details tomorrow, for now my body has to hit the bed.
Let the body hit the bed, let the body hit the bed. Rrrrrrrraugh.
I haven't posted much in my journal this week. I have thought about posting in my journal, though. Almost everything happening in my life lately fall into two distinct categories. They are: A.) Things I don't want the whole world to know, and 2.) Things that are far too boring to share.
Now, as far as "A" is concerned, please don't feel that you're missing out on a lot of juicy morsels. It's nothing salacious or scandalous or even very interesting. And "2", well, it's all work. Boring, boring work.
Last night does not fall into either category, though. I was chatting with my friend Danielle yesterday, and I told her we ought to hang out again sometime. Next thing I know she's inviting me to go dancing. Now, that sort of thing ain't my bag, baby, but I have been meaning to expand my horizons a bit. David was more than eager to join us. So we all met up at the Rage just before 10. Danielle bought me drinks. We boogied. We ogled. We had a genuine good time. I managed to get into bed before 1:30am. I think we're going to get together and do it again soon.
Clubbing is my own form of personal growth. I feel good about it.
But now it's back to work. I have a meeting in fifteen minutes, so I'd better get my act together.