Cockatiels and GroupiesI wonder how to add it all up, but I'll do my best here:
My mom sent me zitcream so that I can fix my pizzaface and so I can join the ranks of Jessica Simpson and Vanessa Williams. My friend is getting married and I might have to wear banana yellow. Valentine's Day came and went - a day to remember a day to forget, as it casts me back to just where I was last year, what I was dealt and what 6:30am blissing happened, and what problems and so I spent this Valentines with someone I love (no, not the Scottish Moralist David Hume, and no, not the German Idealist Fichte) but with some friends of mine down in the Boro ----- there was to be a MY BLOODY VALENTINE blowout with over 500 jello shots....But my ascerbic Scorpio was illin, and the party was more an extended get together, so the best point of the party, other than reading some W.H. Auden in a corner was interacting with a cockatiel who was really quite interesting, I must say, and I wasn't really introduced to anyone right away (note friend who resembles flaky pastry) and then when my friend who refers to me as his "bestest angel"rolled in after work I was ready steady go! and we sat on the porch swing and thought about other porch swings we'd sat on and with whom and over what sort of tuna melts with recipies borrowed from whom, and then we looked at the stars because it was so clear and so cold. And so we went off to do what we do, and then it was 1am, and I had to be on the radio at 8am, and so...time to go. Teaching Aristotle, particularly the
Metaphysics is more difficult than originally suspected. And today, I found out that one of my students is apparently a groupie to a band that I don't even like that much...going for drinks and then to the hotel room! Can I ask you: If you're 17 or 18, do you go with a band member to a hotel room?! I'm just wondering. Alas...
