Sunday, February 27, 2005
I'm ready.
But I'm also quite drunk. This could become some sort of crude shout out to all my "peeps" but it won't. I treasure all of my friends, some moreso then others, and probably unheathily, but I love all you guys.
My brother goes on monday to Penticton. It turns out that the two of them have made a small "get thy sister out to visit us" fund, so I may actually go out there sometime this summer, which is actually quite amazing, because I wouldn't be able to afford it otherwise.
One beer turned into a Heinie, a Smirnoff, two shots of gawdawful shit, and a pint of beer. Not so hot, and not what I planned. I made a bathroom break of the Hilltop diner, and half wasted, I beat two regulars at pool, which was not too shabby. I was impressed with myself, but surrounded by hot married guys, TV with old Godzilla reruns, and old sappy Pearljam. And I wished I was at home in my own bed, so I left, only to meander home in that typical way of being two steps behind my body, to confront my aunt, who was apparently "worried sick" as to my whereabouts. That would be a first. And apparently, she knows the exact time I spent on her phone with Fenton, because WestJet phoned. Aha. Fuck WestJet I say, but really I said something like I usually say, which is like, "I'm sorry" repetively. That's all I ever say. It's completely facetious, but really, that is all I ever feel capable of saying to her, in that mode, because I a) don't believe she's really concerned about anything but her phone bill, or b) I don't give a shit whatsoever.
I took a "compatibility test" at True.com today. Smashing failure. It's like the thing registered everything opposite of what I said as the truth. Smashingly accurate, and full of guys who are stationed in Afghanistan or Iraq looking for fugly online action.
Talked to Mr. Pink tonight. Also not so great. He's more relieved now then anything.
Flirted with Ian's best friend who declared he wanted to screw me at their wedding. I'll have to find some way to get out of that, although he is really an awesome guy. Just not the awesome guy. Mairde. I have to get some sleep. ¶ 2:30 AM
My brother goes on monday to Penticton. It turns out that the two of them have made a small "get thy sister out to visit us" fund, so I may actually go out there sometime this summer, which is actually quite amazing, because I wouldn't be able to afford it otherwise.
One beer turned into a Heinie, a Smirnoff, two shots of gawdawful shit, and a pint of beer. Not so hot, and not what I planned. I made a bathroom break of the Hilltop diner, and half wasted, I beat two regulars at pool, which was not too shabby. I was impressed with myself, but surrounded by hot married guys, TV with old Godzilla reruns, and old sappy Pearljam. And I wished I was at home in my own bed, so I left, only to meander home in that typical way of being two steps behind my body, to confront my aunt, who was apparently "worried sick" as to my whereabouts. That would be a first. And apparently, she knows the exact time I spent on her phone with Fenton, because WestJet phoned. Aha. Fuck WestJet I say, but really I said something like I usually say, which is like, "I'm sorry" repetively. That's all I ever say. It's completely facetious, but really, that is all I ever feel capable of saying to her, in that mode, because I a) don't believe she's really concerned about anything but her phone bill, or b) I don't give a shit whatsoever.
I took a "compatibility test" at True.com today. Smashing failure. It's like the thing registered everything opposite of what I said as the truth. Smashingly accurate, and full of guys who are stationed in Afghanistan or Iraq looking for fugly online action.
Talked to Mr. Pink tonight. Also not so great. He's more relieved now then anything.
Flirted with Ian's best friend who declared he wanted to screw me at their wedding. I'll have to find some way to get out of that, although he is really an awesome guy. Just not the awesome guy. Mairde. I have to get some sleep. ¶ 2:30 AM
