It was as though J. had set about to craft my worst evening imaginable, a fact I reiterated to her ad nauseum on the ride to dinner. Even though I am fond of many of them, I do not really socialize with most of my fellow RPGers. When I do, I prefer that it take the form of some activity (such as laser tag) so as to prevent any faltering or
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I had beer and coffee ice cream while watching the new Battlestar Galactica with a horde of dorks tonight; the end result of which is that I cannot sleep but am too out of it to do much more than take photos of myself listening to my iPod. I would snap some nudes but setting up lighting is such a chore.
Five games of laser tag in three and a half hours. Our team always a distant second to prepubescent black boys. They knew everything we didn't. My voice is ragged and my feet are sore. Bathed in sweat by game two, I took off my mask and left it in someone's car.
I was a late bloomer with regards to a lot of things in life. Eccentricity and a narcissistic need to position myself as the perpetual outsider factored heavily into them all, but there were more legitimate reasons for each procrastination. With sex, it was my obsession with unattainable straight boys, which may or may not have simply been
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I have never gone on one of B.'s lauded beach trips owing to a long-past insecurity about my body and a long-standing aversion to the sun. As a consequence, I had never experienced "Summer Beer" before last night; though I had heard tale. It is a legendary elixir, as pleasing to the taste as the finest ambrosia and yet as numbing to the senses as
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