This weekend was pretty rad, despite it being Valentine’s Day on Saturday. Yeah, I’m bitter. Yeah, it’s old. Suck it. This year embracing the holiday is the new “thing,” apparently.



K-Jax’s kegger was a blast and a half. Made some new friends, successfully seduced somebody, etc. Or I was seduced? I believe the pick-up line was “you have nice titties.” I do. I felt extremely out of place for a little while there, but then the crack-draught kicked in and I was happy happy happy. Totally in my element. There was this really cute guy there that I see on my bus EVERY morning and I wanted to introduce myself, but then I figured that would be creepy and there was absolutely no glimmer of recognition in his eye.



I went shopping the following morning and bought a bunch of stuff I didn’t need. My intention was to buy things for Mexico. I did buy two tanks though, and a whole slew of other stuff.



Our Anti-Valentine’s Day slumber party was quite the success. We had appetizers, chilli, cheese and crackers, chips, potato skins. Chocolately drinks, long island iced teas, fruity martinis, cans of beer. We were gluttonous and bloated and happy. And if that isn’t the best way to celebrate V-day, then I don’t know what is.







Cranium was a hit, although significantly harder while drinking booze. Actually, it was hard anyway but I had to pretend to be drunk to protect my pride at least. Then we had a topless pillow fight and all made out. I passed out in bed with Strickel around 2:30 though, which is a lot lamer than I would have expected. I have some pretty crude pictures of me humping Linus which I don’t care to share.



Linus took me bikini shopping the following day at Wal-Mart. I was so disheartened by the whole experience that I could barely bring myself to go to the gym today. Fuck bikini shopping. I left the store and ordered a DQ hamburger combo at the mall. I haven’t eaten a hamburger in more than two years.



Then, Jagerbomb, Bob and I went to see He’s Just Not That Into You. It’s entirely accurate and I agree that we have to stop making excuses to make ourselves feel better about guys rejecting us. On the other hand, it seems that all those fucking rules can actually turn into exceptions in the end, so whose really gonna stop making excuses?



Looking at an incredible house tomorrow that’s opening up in April. Three bedrooms, 1.5 baths with a JET-TUB, beautiful, located downtown, has a deck, DISHWASHER, etc. The landlord told me that they already had ten inquiries though, so competition is fierce. Better work that redheaded charm tomorrow boi. Or flash him my nice titties.