I woke up late, I ate late...and the eating, ooo...

I went out to my favorite sushi place, the Joy of Tempura. There is no better miso soup anywhere in this country, my friends...I have checked and I am a spoiled bastard for having it here. I gourged, I ordered, I gourged some more...the sushi was eaten...all was well.

Then, my mom and I decided to stop offer by an up-scale restaurant and just have dessert. I saw the red-haired waitress there again, so blissfully digesting sushi that I forgot to return her hello or smile. Two points of for me.

We sit, we kibitz, and someone introduces me to the bartender. She's 5'9, thin but curvy, with a nice if off-centered smile and a penchant for good conversation (job description insert).

She was cute, but not my type...and even if she was, I have but a fortnight and then some here before I go off to be institutionalized again (did you realize that convicts, people in mental wards, and college students are all grouped in many national polls as the "institutionalized" segment of the population?).

So I'm drinking right now and I think to myself, "I'll give my friend a call and see what's up." After this correspondence, we have decided to drive out to his pad and for him to ditch his parents early. This plan pleases me, for it shall mean long, dope-ass car ride whilst drinking me some 40. Ah malt liquor: sweet, sweet mutha' that you is.

No takeover attempts by canadian terrorists yet. There's a scandal brewing in The Valley, though, so I may have some useless gossip to throw in as tidbits later.

Do you like pie, by the way? I like pie.

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