Beauty Walks A Razor's Edge, Someday I'll Make It Mine

Jenn texted me the other day and told me to post. Now I'm feeling the pressure and can't think of anything to white about. I could whine about how my sister left me on Monday to go back to school and then Wednesday my friend Julie left for Washington D.C for a year. In about 48 hours I was deserted by both of the people who were willingly to go to the bar with me at any given moment. This means no more Wednesdays at Dingbats, Thursdays at Bourbon Street and any other random night they would go with me. Not that I don't have other friends willing to go with me BUT I WANT JULIE AND KERI. This me staying at home business while my sister and friends move/go back to school? I am not a fan.

I'm glad to report The Saga of Katie's Library Card That Took Way Too Fucking Long to Get is finally over: I got it two weeks ago and it was a joyous occasion. I wish I was kidding about how excited I got when I saw it in the mail. Now if only I don't fuck it up and never return the books I took out, that would be great. Someone remind me to take them back on the 22nd.

Keri turns 21 on Sunday. I am really excited about this already, don't get me wrong, but it feels like she's 21 already anyways since we went to the bar together all the time and has been using my ID (and getting it with it) the whole summer. It's probably just going to feel like a normal time at the bar with her, only I will have to buy her a lot to drink and then hold her hair later as she spews (if you're going to spew, spew into this) everything she drank all over the (fingers crossed) bathroom. I got yo back sista.

So of course nothing ever materialized with that guy I gave my number to. Of course not! I mean, not like I kept hoping for three weeks either! That would be pathetic! God, what fucking karma for going on two dates this summer with another guy, and then never answering his phone calls again because he was the worst kisser in the entire world. What did I expect to happen. This is my way of justifying it, by the way, Jeff won't call me because I was a bitch to Steve, so just go with it.* It could never just be because he doesn't like me, I have to blame it on the cosmic doings of the universe. Or something like that. As long as I can pretend it's beyond my control. What the fuck am I talking about.

My parents are going on a 2 week vacation starting Labor Day, but I can't go with (not like I was invited anyways) because I have to watch the dog. That's basically why my parents were cool with me moving home. So I could be the dog sitter while they traispe the United States in our big ass van. It's good to feel loved. So anyways, big two week party/rave/orgy at my house starting September 4th. Bring your glow sticks.

I have something to admit. I, self-admitted Dave Matthews Band hater for as long as I can remember, am going to a DMB concert in September. BEFORE YOU JUDGE ME, keep in mind I haven't been to a concert all summer and my friend Kelly is a real sweet talker, who could sell ketchup to a lady wearing white gloves (Wayne's World and Tommy Boy references in this post, I am all that is man). I don't like that I'm going to this concert anymore than you do, but goddamnit I will ENJOY (suffer through) IT AND HAVE FUN (get drunk) IF IT KILLS ME.

Let's go White Sox. I don't want to be the goddamn wild card. You take the series with the Yankees (hey-o John), sweep the Tigers and then split 2 and 2 with the Royals? Jesus christ. It's getting down to the wire, so stop fucking up. If that's not a morale booster, I don't know what is.

If you're out drinking Saturday or Sunday night, say a cheers to Keri in all her finally-21-goodness. Have a good weekend bitches.

*Sidenote: I saw Jeff this past Saturday, and we didn't talk, but later that night I had a dream that my uncle's dog talked to me. A dog will talk to me, but Jeff won't? Goddamnit. No, I do not read too much into my dreams.