It's times like these that I'm glad I'm not a vegetarian anymore. I love my immune system. Two mornings ago I woke up with a terribly scratchy throat, a stuffy nose, and I sounded like shit. As I type this, my nose runs. But that's it. No more stuffy nose, no more scratchy throat, and I can sing Tenacious D once again. My white blood cells mightly smote the cold. Chalk another victory up for meat and potatoes.
So I'm going to the mall today with two girls from work, Stephie and Tina. I don't really know Tina that well, but she seems pretty cool. Stephie's like the sister I never had. You know how I'm always complaining about my real sister? I'd like to adopt Steph, kick my real sister out, and let Steph be my new sibling. That's mean, but she's great. We're probably going to Trumbull. Going the long haul.
I'm trying to get up the courage to call this girl I met at school while registering for classes. I registered on the 13th of December, I think. We were both waiting for the Bursar's office personnel to help us and she said, "Every time I come here, it's a minimum three-hour wait. Ugh." I agreed and told her how every time I go, they screw up my financial aid stuff. She laughed at that and we talked for a while until a woman from the Bursar's office finally helped her. Afterwards, she had to leave. However, she gave me her number and told me to give her a ring sometime, that she would like to hang out. I placed the piece of paper with her number on it into my pants pocket and continued to wait. After I got home, I changed my pants. Now, I forgot that I'd done this. I didn't wash the other pants, I just put them in the "stuff that doesn't quite fit" drawer of my dresser and went about my day. Later on, I thought I'd lost the slip of paper.
The other day, I was cleaning my room and opened that drawer again, finding the pair of pants. I always go through the pockets of pants and it wasn't any different this time. What do I uncover? The slip with her name and number on it. She was moderately attractive and her name was Evelyn. I guess the shortened version of that is Eve? Black hair, green eyes, that somewhat pale-looking skin, tall, average weight (although average to me is skinny to everyone else, I think). Hrm. But yeah, I'm trying to get up the balls to call her. But what do I say? My story as to why I didn't call her? You're supposed to call after two days or some bull like that. "Uh, yeah, it took me a month to locate your number." Yeah, right. Meh. I hate feeling so insecure.
Oh, and by the way, to those of us who watched American History X the other night, that quote at the end is from Abraham Lincoln's first inaugural address.