(no subject)
Tonight was such a weird night. Went downt to Deidrich's for a cup with the intention to leave to go hang out with Joe and Sonny... Met Geoff, Andrea Langstaff (Dodge was working...), and Cory and one of his highschool friends. We started having a conversation about terrible (as in disgusting/offensive) jokes. I was kinda off, but I did manage to come up with an alternate punchline to one... "What do you call two hundred black people on the bottom of the ocean?" Cory suggested that the 'correct' answer was "a good start." My answer was something along the lines of "an insurance claim." Yeah, I know, it's terrible...
Cory eventually started talking about cars and other manly-man-ish, and, as usual, I felt a little overwhelmed. Testosterone just ins't cool in large quantities. This lasted a good twenty to thirty minutes, before Cory and Co took off to go "drink in Costa Mesa." Yeah, whatever -- not my life, nor one I would choose to live.
Talked a little bit with Andrea Langstaff, which was cool -- she's apparently working on a story titled Bananaria (spelled phonetically -- that's for you Sonny!)... I'll spare you the details because it's still a work in progress, and I'd feel bad stealing her thunder.
I was getting ready to take my leave when David and Brett rolled up. Some crazy shit had happened, and they were a little scared about driving home. I don't blame them, but they essentially trapped me at the coffee house until about 1:30. Idk, we had a good time laughing it up with the Andreas; Dodge was having a bad day, so I hope that we helped to make it a little better in the end.
Oh, and the pastry lady (or fairy, as she prefers to be titled) showed up and offered us free pastries if we hung out at the shop when she showed up next time. To me it sounded like a desperate cry for friends; I can sympathize.