Miami: Gold Medal

I was at a bachelorette party for NJ in Miami over the weekend. Being that I’m old, it will probably be Wednesday before I’m feeling 100%. A fantastic time was had by all, but I’ve been banned from sharing any of the details with the Half Street readership. Apparently not everyone likes the salacious details of their life posted for the world to see on the Internet. Go figure. I’m working on receiving special dispensation to post one picture of me teaching the MOH to Ninja/Bear/Soldier. Think full-body Paper/Rock/Scissor. Oh yeah, we were in a swank-tastic restaurant at the time. Good Stuff. Look for it in the next few days.

My thoughts on Miami (Kwon, you were just there, please confirm): If I were a dude, I would move to Miami yesterday. The smoking hot chick to even MEDIOCRE guy ratio is completely out of whack. I was expecting to see a beach full of Eric’s from CSI: Miami. To say that I didn’t would win the gold medal in understatement, if that were an event in Beijing. However the number of tall, tan, teenie-weenie, model-type, women was a bit nauseating. What is that? Who knows, maybe they were having a casting call for all the good looking men in Miami at the bar we weren't at, and we didn’t get the memo. Darn the luck.

This guy was nowhere to be found.

As a side note, and because I’ve been feeling this way since Sunday morning, I recently read an article that implied I’ve been using the word nauseating, and its derivatives, incorrectly my entire life. Well at least as long as I’ve been using it, which coincidentally ties to how long I’ve been drinking. However, a quick sweep of the Internet (and we all know, that’s never wrong) tells me that only grammar Nazi’s still abide by the whole nauseous for nauseating rule, and that my usage is perfectly acceptable. At least I think that’s what they are saying. All the “sense 1” and “sense 2” nonsense in the usage note left me feeling a bit…nauseated.