(I would've liked to touch base with Meaghan, but I haven't talked to her in over a year or so).

Originally, I thought we were going just for the game on saturday, then do whatever for the remainder and sunday. She bushwacked me with the idea of going to the last game of the series on sunday. I actually like watching live sports, so it was fun. Still, she'd talked up doing a lot of stuff around town--and then we watch baseball after bum-rushing out of the hotel at mach 6.

We got slightly lost the first night, but winded back at the hotel alright. Same with finding the urban American Indian community that kinda vaguely exists, as well as Eat Street. We had excellent thai food. Em had objections over the gay sassy waiter. After she'd smilingly put in her order, he'd said something like, "yes, yes I believe I can allow that." It was sassy. I found it amusing. She did not. Oh not at all. Later on, he wizzed by and said he'd be bringing out the check. We'd decided on dessert.

That's when Emily pulled out the no-nonsense approach that I love to see. She brought him over, told him we actually wanted dessert, and asked him what the selections were. We already knew, but I guess she was probing him. He mentioned what we wanted, the Midnight Cowboy. It was an "adult" dessert. He said he could get us the PG version. Later on we'd both WTF about this comment, given that we don't look like Mormons or old people. Again, in a no-nonsense, 'your tip is screwed' fashion, Emily made it clear we wanted the adult version.

It was a banana split. More specifically, it was a long banana dick and two coconut ice cream balls, with festive peanut sprinkles and a cherry screwed through the near tip of the banana. I commented to Em that it was a Prince Albert and delightfully giggled. She slid me a pained 'you did just say that' expression.

The way there had been pleasant but painful, given that driving for more than an hour makes the left side of my lower back scream out in varying agony degrees. The way back was better. It may have been the extra bunched up leather jacket Emily put behind my back. It could have been screaming down a lawless highway at 100 while listening to classic rock. It may have been the sweet but not at all vomitacular way we just enjoy each other's company.

I decided to stay late at work today instead of seeing yet another baseball game with her and a grad school friend, Jeff. I dunno. I want mexican food and Kurt Cobain in moderate quantities while shuffling through the mostly adequate data my undergrad dragged through for the last 2 months. Granted, he's busy. But granted: I would have done this shit in 2 weeks. He could have too. It's not as if I'm going to do him any favors after getting the department to grant him an exception to some paperwork he needs to graduate.

Long story. Not worth remembering. Not worth telling.

I heard from Rachel (aka Badass) recently. This makes me happy. I don't hear from her for long stretches. Because of various circumstances and the length of time that goes by, I sometimes think she might be dead. But then she comes back and, yeah, happy.

Reminds me of a night sky constellation of folk I should tap with my cell-phone or screen names.

Reminds me I need to be entering data.

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