I guess I'll take this time to explain that last not-so-sonnet you guys got this weekend. Friday night, a 13-year not-puking streak came to an EXTREMELY abrupt end. I hate beer. The overall concept of it isn't too bad, but I can't stand the taste. I tried to "acquire" it a little too late in my career. So now I think it sucks. Since it takes so much more beer than vodka to get drunk, I decided to try to go the vodka route Friday night. The problem with that is that I have no idea how to mix vodka and orange juice. Apparently, my one to one ratio was a little heavy on the vodka side. So anyway, I partied hard for an hour or so, then "took a nap" on the couch. Here's a brief description of my thought process when I "woke up:" I opened my eyes and felt this feeling I haven't felt in... well, hell, I couldn't remember how I felt back when I was 11. Anyway, I felt it coming, and I immediately headed for the bathroom. I got about one step toward it. This was no longer an option. So I just aimed away from any electronic equipment. That was the best I could do at that point. Trust me. So anyway, now there's a big stain on Brian's rug where I will be forever immortalized. And smelled. Any other information you want about that night is included in your sonnet. I'm done talking about it now.
Before the quote, I have 2 announcements: First of all, if you haven't seen my film, "Nothing But Rim, the World's Worst Basketball Team" in wide screen format (the way it was meant to be viewed), it's playing on campus in another film festival Thursday night. Let me know if you want to go. I am. And I'm really excited about it. You'll get some serious brownie points if you come. It's in Fine Arts 306 sometime after 8:00. I'll let you know more as it happens. Secondly, we're holding a contest to name our kitten. We currently call it "Baby," though we are aware of the fact that it will not be small forever. That's why we need a new name. The kitten is all black with a little white on its underbelly and it acts just like every other cat. It's a girl too, if that helps. So far, the best ideas we have for it are Jiggy, Rockwell, and Baffled By String (Indian heritage name). What we're looking for is some sort of name that will help us pick up chicks. The winner gets a lifetime supply of Meow Mix. All entries will be considered. The sooner the better, as my RAM is already kind of low.
Geoff and I are gearing up for camp this summer. We have our gator skin balls, snoopy band-aids, and handcuffs (those are for the lifeguards) all ordered for the semester. One of the campers was in here taking swimming lessons tonight. She decided to pass some time by hanging out in the office and getting harassed by Geoff. See, her mom was born June 12th, and she was born June 13th. So Geoff said "So your mom is only one day older than you?" She tried unsuccessfully to try to explain that her and her mom were born in different years, but Geoff's sadistic persistence wouldn't let her. About 10 minutes into the eavesdroppingly grueling conversation, she decided to use the following stand, which Geoff also shot down:
Quote Of the Day 5/17/99
Little girl: "You know how you were born in a year?"
Old mean guy: "No I wasn't. It took me 9 months."
She must be thinking of elephants.
Worlds Worst Basketball Documentarian,
Throws Cats Far.
Still Standing Right Here...
