Footsie.
Jun 02, 2001
Tonight was Adriana's roommate's birthday, so we assembled at 11pm,
grabbed a big chunkola of lesbian chic b-day cake and headed downtown.
Fourth street - my stompin' ground. We parked in the parking garage and
walked to her work. She had escaped. For the rest of the evening we
smuggled the birthday cake all around with us. You know
in highschool how they make girls carry around a sack of flour all day
to make them realize the responsibilities of caring for a child? It was
sortof like that, except we wanted to eat it.
We hoofed it all the way to the Ritz where I spazzed on air hockey. I need to find a game I'm not so good at, and one that doesn't make me sweat my caucasian butt off.
I realized that the Ritz does not exactly abound with cute chicas. It's definitely "testosterone heavy". Oh well. I guess that'll keep me outta trouble for a while.
We shared a cup of chocolate ice cream on the way back to the car. We checked out some party, but it was pretty dead - just three people playing footsie and watching movies. We chilled on "da stoop", swung by Adriana's swank new apartment and headed our seperate ways.
I realized tonight that all these songs keep popping into my head when we talk. And then I feel compelled to speak em. And I'm a goofy bastard, and it's alright, because I'm among friends.