So this afternoon, Craig came over after he was done with class. He was ‘a total mess’—he had been up all night doing some Choral Lit paper, but of course he still looked absolutely hawt. We ended up going to Paquin Park because it was such a beautiful day.
I gave him a back rub under a red bud tree, while the wheelchair-bound morbidly obese old women toked up their menthols nearby. Craig, “I mean, if I were that fat, I wouldn’t be smoking.” Such sass! We have so much in common it’s creepy. I told my story of the couch-bound woman who, through the sole power of Richard Simmons’ aerobic specials, clapped her way into losing 300+ lbs. Craig seemed surprised that I knew this, but when you watch as many infomercials as I do…
So, this PDA made Craig (and me to a certain extent) a little uncomfortable. Neither of us feel a need to wear our sexual orientation on our sleeve. It just isn’t a big deal to us. There were lots of older veterans and such wandering around—and I definitely felt a little awkward. Which made me think; you know I would have no qualms with making out (hard) with a girl in a park. It shouldn’t really be any different—so it is like “get the fuck over it”, you know?
Haha, next you know, I am going to hold queer rights meetings in the CTA, complete with rainbow tablecloths. (And by the way, that has actually happened before—I am not making it up).
Other things I did today:
1) took my cell bio test #4
2) went to work, only to find out that the corn was already planted
3) Finished my theory project
4) Took a nap
5) Practiced for 1.5 hours
6) Ate 2 packages of wild-berry skittles
7) Cleaned my room
8) Finished my diction journal
9) Wasted an inordinate amount of time blogging
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Completely unrelated to your post, here is something that I came across in that new rag the Misery Weekley. It was so freakin' fantastic that I knew I had to share it, and copying the whole thing to your blog wasn't even worth the trouble to share this with you and all the wonderful people who read this fabulous blog.
Spice Girls:
Duke (Pro): Let's get this all out of the way. The Spice Girls are arguably the greatest female supergroup of the 1990's. With immortal lyrics like "if you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends," how could they not be? That's not only a clear testament to the importance of friendship in a long-term relationship, but also an affirmation into the possibilities of threesomes, foursomes anf beyond. Point two: Posh Spice married David Beckham, thus proving that a race of super attractive god-like humans can be created without genetic engineering. We can never let the Nazis get a hold of those babies. You know all this reminds me of another testament that I want to pass on to the guys out there...guys "Fat chicks have hot friends." Know it, Love it, Live it, fellas.
Boomer (Con): Let's look at the facts. "Wannabe" by those pond hoppers is the greatest thing to land on the Earth since whenever the last UFO crashed on land. That still does not make up for the Special Failures they've become. Besides the one that married Beckham, they are all dead, some of them in a dumpster. I think that speaks for itself. Spice Girls: "Here's our music world!" WORLD: "Screw you, die in this dumpster..wait, you're kind of pretty, here's a soccer star! The rest of you, back in the dumpster before you ruin the surprise for BBmak!" The answer is no, none of us want to be your lovers. You in a dumpster is what we really, really want.
Ok, I hope you all enjoyed that as much as I did or else i will feel like a big fat loser for taking the time to write it all in here. Go Ed Grow, I love you, and the monkey food, and the key, i don't know what it's for, and the bouncy bouncy ball.
Your Chachi
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