speak for me
I have rented my own carrel on the ninth floor of the library, officially making me colder than February.
Perhaps the only way to endure a February is to be more cold than she.
Thursday's family dinner was mobilizing, in that it encouraged forward movement in a secured fashion. I believe that a once-a-week meal with these women will continue to keep me motivated.
At karaoke I enjoyed the popularity I receive, but it was a little tainted by George's reaction to Sara's confrontation that he dances invasively.
"No more cock-dancing," she told him.
He sat silently the entire rest of the evening, despite doing a carbomb with me and... when I accidentally dumped 32 ounces of Bud on his crotch. Poor baby.
After my return to Janis Joplin I walked off stage, chugged my still-full beer, and exited the building. I swear, I get so dramatic.
I didn't need that beer, though. As evidenced by my headache the next morning when I roused myself enough to sit and listen to other studiers from my math class.
Then I ate a hotdog with Giancarlo.
Afterwhich Heather and I spent five hours searching the stacks of the library for an obscure language which had never received any OT analysis. I found a few grammars which now I must read in hopes of finding a morphophonemic phenomenon that will then solve.
Hence the renting of the carrel.
Because the books in my bag weighed heavy on my bursting calves and made the walk from the library to the square very uncomfortable.
Heather said I limped so badly people were staring at me.
We treated ourselves to a very expensive (to our budgets) meal at Grazie!, and I have to say it was one of the best Italian dinners I've ever had.
Not to mention Heather's company is unsurpassable.
My evening at the Irish Lion sent me home earlier than I would expect from myself on a Friday. The conversation with Winter, in which he apologized, depleted me of energy for other interaction.
Amelia arrived to take me home, and I had another bourbon while muttering about my previous conversation. Greg called wanting entertainment and we turned him down.
She burned her hand in liquid nitrogen and the pain killers made her foggy.
So I came home and watched Y Tu Mama Tambien and fell asleep.
This entry is lacking severly in transitions, but at least I am not.
Last night was the result of many things I could consider as being in the "shouldn't have happened" catagory. I'm glad last night is over, though.
I'll talk about it later.
