Sunday, June 19, 2005

Who do you think you are? Frankie Valli or some kind of big shot?

Oh, what a night. That's how that terrible Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons song goes, right?

After spending the entire day at work feeling rather dejected about not being able to solve high school mathematics exams, I went home to sit around in my apartment with the lights low and listen to trip-hop music at inordinately high volumes. Just when I was expecting nothing to happen, something did. So that's totally fantastic.

After meeting the bartender from the only place in Ames that has drinkable beer in another bar playing pool with her housemate, we decided to

first: play pool at a nearby table;
then: accept their invitation to play doubles;
next: whip their asses in the 6 game series by a score of 5-1;
finally: follow them up to the "3 dollar cover, y'all" second floor, where it is basically a dance club.

You heard right, I was at a dance club. Luckily, I was sufficiently intoxicated, meaning that I didn't care that every six-foot-five-two-hundred-fifty-pound guy in the joint was thinking to himself, "What the fuck is that cracker [or 'crackah,' if you prefer] doing out there?" Due to this massive rush of endorphins to my brain caused by the wacky amount of physical activity so late/early, I accidently left a five dollar tip at the bar for a drink that cost me $3.50. Live and let live.

Then it seemed like a great idea to go back to the house of these two massively cute girls (who were 26 and 23, or much older, I forget) and play scattergories for an hour. I don't care what anyone says, when the category (or "scattergory" lol omg har har) is "people in uniform" and the letter is "P," the response "Police, Military" is completely acceptable and is different from "Policemen."

Then we went to Perkin's for some reason at 5am where some guy named Dante stroked my hand for about 10 seconds until I told him he couldn't possibly make me feel uncomfortable.

Then he moved across the aisle.

Come home 6:30am, crash, wake up at 11, shower, go to work after 2pm. Why after 2pm?

The world may never know.

Oh, and now I'm infatuated with The White Stripes. I only just realized how brilliant Get Behind Me Satan truly is. This is probably one of those records I'm going to have to buy. I'm so in love. "I'm Lonely (But I Ain't That Lonely Yet)" is probably the best song ever written about dealing with getting tossed aside by some girl. And finally, if you see Chevelle around, tell them to stop making music because they're terrible at it.

Good work on shakin' your groove thang, yeah yeah.

Now you totally have to go out clubbing with me in MPLS sometime.
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