As I sit typing this, Matt and I are relaxing on his large couch complaining about a) how much our feet hurt b) how much alcohol the devil instills into a tasty, tasty Hefe-weizen beer.

Today we set out to do some hard-core Kelly shopping. The first destination was a local Target, in which Kelly managed to complete her circuit of the store in record time. Matt bought a tie rack.

Next up was the Galleria in downtown Houston. Holy crap. Holy crap on a crap cracker. This thing is huge. Not only that, but there are some high-falutin stores in this joint. Neiman Marcus, Tiffany, Cartier, Armani (and the lo-billy A|X). Craziness. Oh, did I mention an indoor ice rink? Yeah, that too. In related pseudo-sport news, Matt tells me that on Sunday mornings, the Houston Curling Club meets on this ice every Sunday. For a nominal fee, they will teach you how to curl. Now, my question is this: if the tradition of the winners buying beer for the losers is true, does that make this a bunch of 11AM Sunday drunks? Who knows.

So, we followed Kelly around, watching the weekend mall-warriors in their cutoffs mingle with the mile-high hair socialites. Quite the cross-section of humanity. So far, that pretty much nails Houston on the head. A large number of ethnicities co-existing here, for sure. A large Asian community, a large Hispanic community, and plenty of rednecks. (Note: Texas Wendy’s don’t know wtf a “vegetable sandwich” is).

My own purchase was a green shirt with the slogan “Getting Lucky in Kentucky” on it. Yeah, I went to Houston and all I got was a lousy Kentucky t-shirt. But the store I bought it was from was called Urban Outfitters. An interesting mix of indie-rock chic with just goofy kitsch like the “Everybody Poops” book by Taro Gomi. The final straw in the cool shake was the live turntable-spinning DJ in the back.

After snaking our way back through that maze, we attempted to find the “CostPlus World Market“, but no luck. Oh well, we did manage to get me a set of decent 26 gram 80% titanium darts. After playing with Matt’s set on Friday night, I *had* to commit.

Off to a great little chain-taqueria called Taco Cabana food was fair, but accented wonderfully by a great salsa bar replete with shredded cilantro. And I loves me some cilantro.

To the game!! Houst on Astros vs. St. Louis Cardinals. MinuteMaid Park was super-cool. The temperature was very nice, and the roof was open. The game was fairly non-eventful, but that’s cool. Houston sadly lost 0-3 to the St. Louis Cardinals.

Well, to drown our sorrows, we walked back to Matt’s apartment (a scant 4 blocks or so from the Park). Oh, I forgot to mention that Barbara and George Bush Sr. were in attendance. And you know what? They left early! Pshaw! That should be in the constitution or something. At least put some look-alikes in their places. I mean, how much faith would *you* have if you were on the Houston Astros, and even your former Senator and President — the man whom you named your airport after — has fled in disgust! Heh. Matt would like to point out it was the bottom of the 8th. I say that’s when the fun just starts! Oh well.

Meanwhile, we headed out from Matt’s apartment to the Flying Saucer, about an 8 block walk from his apartment. If I thought that Timberwolves selection of beer was impressive, The Flying Saucers was outstanding! (Chuck – both Timberwolves and The Flying Saucer were devoid of Caffrey’s Irish Ale, :( ) (“Out of this world” Matt would like to add. Followed by “Waaah”.) I had a Spaten Franziskaner Hefe Weizen followed by an Abita Purple Haze whilst playing a bunch of darts. I introduced Matt and his buddy BD to “21″, and Matt proceded to kick our asses. Well, I *did* beat him twice in Cricket, so I certainly had it coming.

Now we are back at the apartment and my stamina is waning! Museum and dim sum tomorrow. Pics will be uploaded here tomorrow AM.