Another weekend, another trip to Chicago. Forget about it being the second city, it’s more like my second-home city. I’ve been there so much that Christine’s mom has decided to make me an honorary member of the family. This time around we went to a Cubs game, and although the game was nothing exciting, we did get to see someone rush the field before being arrested. We also got to see the Cubs’ pitcher and catcher trade blows in the dugout, before taking the brawl into the locker room and, eventually, the hospital. Now that’s what I call teamwork!
While I was in Chicago, I also rediscovered my craving for fountain soda, due to McDonalds offering a 42-ounce refillable soda for an astonishing 89 cents. That’s right. FORTY-TWO OUNCES. EIGHTY-NINE CENTS. That sucker was so big that I had to sit at a table and eat my French fries and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies (what can I say, I’m incredibly health conscious when it comes to my diet), because there was no way I could carry everything with me and walk back to Chris’s apartment at the same time. Sure, maybe a coordinated individual could have, but this is me we’re talking about, the girl who hasn’t met a drink she couldn’t knock over. Walking AND drinking AND eating? Completely out of the question.
Now I’m back home again, and although it would be ideal to start working on what I need to get done this week, I have approximately 50 hours of Lost at my immediate disposal, Mr. Dangerous having provided me with the DVDs from the entire seasons one and two. It is his goal to get me hooked by the time the fourth season rolls around. He’s off to a good start in realizing that goal, that’s for sure. Maybe he’ll finally help me kick the last of my lingering bitterness towards J.J. Abrams.
I’d write more, but I promised Jende I would get my ass to the post office today and finally mail the package I’ve been meaning to send him for about a month now. I’m heading out now, Jende, for real this time. Your package o’ porn is on its way. Hang in there, man. (Okay, that was mean, because now you’re going to get your hopes crushed when you open the package and find NO PORN. And I’d go back and rectify that situation, but I gotta get it in the mail TODAY! There is NO TIME! NO TIME FOR PORN! I’m on a deadline! It’s gotta GO, GO, GO today! So that means you’re shit out of luck, my friend. Sorry!)
