Monday, June 26, 2006

Sunday, June 18, 2006

Just got back from a float-trip (aka, 48 hours of non-stop debauchery).

Quote of the trip: As we were talking to the camp owner about our liability waiver we had to sign Joe says, "Whoa. Excessive drinking? We're getting into kind of a gray area here."

So whenever I get pictures for that I'll post them.

In other news: My B-day is on Thursday! I turn 21! Watch out Como! I'm going to burn you to the ground!

At the risk of being once again chided by Craig, I'll post my birthday present wishlist, which consists of one thing.

Oh, and Alan, if midget porn is decadent, what is Hungarian-homosexual-Identical-twin-porn?

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Baseball in the dark is a bad idea! K-Dawg, Lane, and Craig are apparently making badass faces...I didn't get the memo. Maybe I was too busy being hit with a baseball in the eye.

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Craig and I post-aforementioned-baseball-in-the-eye incident at Addison's for Mandy's B-day.

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Craig and I at Bethany's recital. Whitney in the background doing her "I'm-going-to-be-in-every-picture-goddamnit-face".

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Whitney Reed and Me at the 'Boig for her B-day. Yes, again we are pouty-pirate Olsen twins while Tessa dissapproves in the background.

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

Have a lot of irons in the fire (gawd, do I deplore that alegory).

Research is going well, having to interact with others: less well.

Have my first lesson with Dan tomm. Excited!

I feel like I am standing on the horizon, looking into the sun. ("Your star, it burns!")

Thursday, June 08, 2006

In between projects these last two weeks, I have discovered that there are so many hours that one can spend practicing /biking /running /working-out.

Yay for Nick laughing through The Omen and drinking flaming bacardi 151 out of orange halfs at NKN.

I am America. I am the president. I am the olympics!

Thursday, June 01, 2006

During my move across the hall to live with Lane for the summer, Manda and I discussed the peculiarity that is Paquin Tower.

For you non-CoMoers, Paquin Towers is a 15 story apartment building right next to U-Place. As far as we can tell, only mentally and physically handicapables live there. The formula for a typical resident is pretty simple: morbidly obese, riding a jazzy (often with a boom-box tucked underneath), and with a very small lapdog in tow. This fat-jazzy-lil’-dog prototype begs the question: when someone moves into Paquin Towers, do they automatically get a small dog?

“Hello. Welcome to Paquin Towers. Here are your mailbox key, bedsheets, and a small dog to serve as a foil to your enormous, bloated, handicapped body.”

One time Alan and Bianca took pictures of all the gas stations in Rolla and put them in a photo album. Manda and I are scheming right now to set up shop on the adjacent parking garage and dutifully document this handicapped person-dog phenom.

I love the summer.