October 31, 2004

subject-verb formation

let me tell you about my evening, and excuse my spellings, i'm rather drunk. got back from game and sat around a bit. called kat to see about dinner and made plans with her and amy to meet at olive garden for dinner. mom got back from day out with aunt and came along. zoupa toscana (too much red pepper), chicken vino bianco (too little sauce) and jim and break-up-girl at the next table. dramatic, no? kat and amy could see them from their seats and informed me of their presence. twinge of jealousy. i was hidden in a back corner of the booth so i just pretended to have no idea they were there. conversation, soothing balm, i'm okay with it really. actually, really. what began as a twinge of jealousy dissipated into ambivalence. after all, he's not my boyfriend, i don't really get to be jealous. end of dinner, try and get up and leave without being spotted. no. jim leans back in his seat, calls my name, waves. v. obvious. i was hoping to never have to acknowledge this rather unusual situation. smile and wave, the smile is probably sickly or threatening, definately not simple and friendly. not sure how that went across. get to leave without more than an upbeat "hi," thank god i'm not forced to stay and make small-talk. pass through ralph's, have to pee. return home. urinate. assemble fangs. god i hate moldable thermoplasic. seriously. a pain in the ass, but end result pretty good, disregarding lisp. kat tells me break-up-girl's away message says it's becoming a tradition, dinner. whatever. help kat with her costume, we're going to the institute of mental decay. run to cynth's to borrow clothes. end up staying there and drinking hard lime till 3. oops. so much for mental decay, or at least, well, yeah...mental decay. trivial pursuit was played. puns made. all the people from high school i never hung out with. good times. drank 3 hard limes, 3 shots rum. oh my. tipsy. call jim - walk home? (need affection.) no. cynth and mark walk me home. i can't find my keys. call apartment, roosh lets me in. need to pee. jim calls, i got home alright, thanks, not to you. (no affection.) sweet that he called. brush teeth pass out. i ought to drink some water. i liked tonight. i'd like to be pissed at jim or something but i'm just too dead inside. whatever. not upset no walk not upset dinner not upset no kisses just want sweet sweet sleep. and i'm not being dramatic or lying or sarcasm, i really don't care. i don't know why.


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