Monday, September 13, 2010

An Open Letter to Patrick- Part 2.

Dear Patrick,

I still haven't been able to reach you over gchat- you must still have me blocked, but so much has happened that I think it's time that we communicate again. While I did make some progress in that you answered 2 of my calls last week, I think that progress came to a screeching halt after I was unable to ahere to your friendship conditions. I am so glad that you managed to let me know that yesterday you vomited taco bell so strongly and forcefully that the water splashed out of the toilet and into your face and hair. Hearing that cute little anecdote really made me feel like I was right there with you.

Where should I begin?! I think the first thing I want to tell you about is the Big 10 Bar Crawl that I went on with Sister Moley a few weekends ago. It was a lot of fun and I was definitely in college mode, but my fun fell short when I found myself unable to walk home. I lost function of my legs and arms and toppled over 3 blocks from my house and couldnt get up again. I rolled around trying to gather the strength to get up but I just couldnt muster it... and I had my headphones in listening to 'colors of the wind' by pochahantis. Some man on a bike stopped to assist me and basically carry me the 3 blocks home. It was really special. I really think that I proved then and there that no matter what anyone says, jager bombs are NEVER a good idea.

My new apartment is still fine, minus a minor fire and the fact that my landlords wish me dead. That part is mainly Becki's fault though, since she fell asleep in the hallway last weekend for a good 3 hours because they didn't believe her when she tried to tell them that she was actually me. I got a harsh scolding from the landlords, explaining that no matter what happens, I can't use them to let in my friends when I can't be bothered to come home yet. Sorry for partying. In other news, I am almost done with LOST. Jin and Sun just died and I swear I cried harder than when you told me my tatoo was ugly that time at Lairs' lake house. Remember that? I do.

The psychic next door got SHUT DOWN, which proves the point that I was trying to make all along, which is that she is either a prostitute, a drug lord, a prostituting drug lord, or just a crazy woman with eyes that look in 2 different directions. I'm really disappointed though, because I really wanted to get more involved in her little operation and maybe do some kind of an expose. But I guess too little, too late. I think Ashley Manning is the most disappointed, as she was the one who insisted that we knock on the psychics door at 9:30am on a Saturday until she answered. When she finally answered the door all wild eyed and disheveled, it scared us both so much that we didn't even try to find another psychic to see that day.

Not much else has happened- James came into town last week and he and I drank coors lights/blue moons all night long. One of the bartenders kept buying us more and more drinks. Eventually dad made some kind of a rude comment and alas, the free drinks stopped there. When I told him that you had been spreading rumors that I was dead, he laughed. I was a little hurt by this- especially when I told him that you had told people I was facebooking from the beyond- specifically, purgatory. All he said was "Well at least he doesn't think you're in hell." Not a very fatherly response, but I guess it's safe to say that you won James over long ago. So thats about it for me. See you Thursday? Perhaps we can even rent Ponyo?

Your friend,