px is not a cunt.

cxpx, texas welcomes you!

cx and i spent a good hour at the library searching for American Folk Music and Left-Winged Politics with zero luck.

balls.

however, i did stumble across Wicked Messenger: Bob Dylan and the 1960s. i think we struck oil on our search for gold.

kx called while us girls were whisper-giggling in the library...

kx said:

what are you doing?

mengtar whispered:

we're in the library.

kx said:

shutup. no, you're not. where are you? is cx there?

mengtar whispered:

yes we are. we're in the library.

kx said:

i need to talk to cx.

mengtar whispered:

we're in the LIBRARY!

cx whispered:

hey, we're in the library.

kx said:

NO! YOU'RE NOT! mengtar, put cx on the phone!

cx whispered:

this IS cx! and we ARE in the library!

mengtar whisper-giggles incessantly.

cx whispered:

kx! we're engaged! and mengtar and i are in the library!

kx said:

shutup mengtar!


i guess it was funnier at the time... no, YOU get a life!

i happened upon an awkward situation at jupiter house this evening... after rumble-night, it has become increasingly awkward to be around homeboy's friends, especially because those are the nights we seem to argue with increased intensity... in front of them... but one stuck around and chatted me up a bit. quite the tension reliever. we discussed his shitty day and my shitty day(s) before he went down to andys for a drink. before leaving juho, i surprised him with a shot before disappearing into the nighttime.

((how mysterious))

i feel like a good samaritan... or just a promoter of alcoholism.

also, px, i love you and you are beautiful and you make me sooo happy and i will visit you some day and i will never call you a cunt on my blog ever ever again even if i mean it as a term of endearment.