so the evening:

i played an actual game of pool for the first time. (figuring that i was intrinsically good at bowling, i should be inherently good at ALL "white trash" sports. except! i scratched on the 8ball, which apparently means that i lose automatically. question: who makes up these rules?

eventually, krista and i go to mankato to the Oleander. i've never been. krista says it's the punk rock bar. i felt out of place since i didn't feel that i was unquestionably the queen bee, the coolest, the bestest. it could have been the alcohol talking at that point.

so i got tired. krista drove me home to st. peter. and now all i want to do is look at pictures of a beautiful man that stands forever and a day away from me in berkeley. i'm sighing, can you tell?

p.s. the peacock and i had a li'l chitchat. i wanted to know what objective he had in telling me that he missed me... eventually he says that he's been on a couple of dates and they were boring and that I was NEVER boring. ....

file that under "h" for "things that make you go Hmmmmm." cross-reference under d. for "duh."

i need carbonated sugar water. and some chipshoppe chips. with balsamic vinegar.