I'm at my parents' house and about to have dinner.
New Orleans was... horrid, really. Bad. Let's just say Cassie and I are never drinking again together. No.... Nothing like that happened. Just... Drinking makes you emotional and all.
The super ego is soluble in alcohol, mm kay?
We got couches. These... lovely... black vinyl couches. Hey. Kelly's dad paid for them. I let her pick them out. I do like them, yes. But our cat. Whew. Getting The Russian declawed has now been put on the priority list.
Julie confessed her love for me last night over the phone. And told me she's been having sex dreams about me. And told me she misses me but knows we can't be together and all. And something about how if she still loves me later on... she won't marry Cory, whom she is practically engaged to. So, hence... she has to get over me by next June. I'm happy where I am, it seems. I'm liking this girl and this apartment and this cat and all the places those things can lead to.
My AIM isn't working. This upsets me a great deal, goddammit.
Anyway. Pork chop time, my lovies!