notes |
profile
mail |
host | older I random entry
November 03, 2001 // 6:21 p.m. // A booty kind of night
G and I started off the night yesterday driving to the library. When it was closed, we drove to the main library downtown, we found it was also closed. "Why the hell would the library close at 6 on Friday's and Saturday's?" he said. We headed back to my house (where he made a wrong turn and ended up lost under an overpass. I refused to help him find the way out because he refused to take the freeway). About 30 minutes later, we picked up B, and headed up to the big Sugarhouse Barnes & Noble that neither had ever set foot inside before. It was like they had never even seen books. G bought the Cliff's Notes for a book he was supposed to have 300 pages read of by now. Fortunately when we left, it was 9:20, meaning we wouldn't be going to the Petco where Randi works. They've laid off me just a little about asking her out. Why do I have the feeling the shit will hit the fan tonight? From Barnes & Noble, we drove to the union building where we sat in the car listening to music for over an hour. We heard selections from only two artists: former crack-addict Mary J. Blige and pedophile R. Kelly. We listened to that damn "Feelin' On Your Booty" song a dozen times or more before the end of the night. Sheesh. From here we turned down eating at Wendy's and Taco Bell to opt for KFC. I wasn't visibly upset, but I didn't want to eat here. My routine rut of a life assures me a trip to KFC every Sunday night, and if I went last night, it'd mean I wouldn't have a hunger for chicken come Sunday. Plus it made it easier on the guy at the drive thru window who only had to take two separate orders rather than one. There's somnething about that square two blocks in Sugarhouse that makes the workers pissy about taking multiple orders. They refused to at Carl's Jr. At Wendy's the guy told us "sure if you want to make it hard on us." At KFC, he said, "man you guys are killing me." They're trying to make us feel guilty for putting them through even the slightest amount of work more than normal. So we eat just outside of the parking lot, listen to "Feelin' On Your Booty" even more, and the title line sparks a question to me that even a blind man could see coming. "Jason, have you ever felt on a girl's booty?" When I say no, they're shocked and look at me as if I had a third eye. He should have asked this to G who has even less experience with girls than I have. The truth is, I'm not a booty man at all. I really wouldn't want a girl's hands all over my behind either. It's so uncomfortable. This launches us into another discussion about girls I've kissed and made out with. I told them only two names on the rather short list. There's nothing worse than recounting experiences that you know you've shared with them before that you don't like reliving. At about midnight, we began driving around the east side of town, and we ended up by the ghost house. Ths house had taken down the three linked ghosts, meaning I cannot get a picture of them. Somehow after this, we ended up at Kara's house. It's pretty weird how last week it took us forever to find it, but how this time we just stumbled upon it. We didn't do anything to her house. We just parked near it and left a few minutes later. Perhaps the best part about the night was I got home at 12:45 a.m. which is much bettter than the usual two or three o'clock in the morning. If only we had arrived home at this time last weekend I wouldn't have been so cranky. Random Bonaduces lyric: "I felt all weakened this is more than she should take I'm always freaking and making these stupid mistakes Kate responds all optimistically She contends that there is something good in me I tried to argue and show what she's sustained She reviewed it and said, 'Let's stop comparing our pain Let's just try and like ourselves tonight and take care of each other at times like this.'"