[The kids are alright]

Patrick and Amber flew in for the weekend. I had to work every day they were here, which sucked for me because while I was folding tiny pairs of blue underwear with “Sweet” written on the crotch in teeny rhinestones, my pals were off existing independently of me. Harumph. But I’m so glad they came, and I am working my ass off to save money so I can get up to New York during fall break.

We reunited at Nick’s house Saturday night. Amanda brought her new beau, who had to endure our inane conversation about the difference between a hernia and hemorrhoids. We sure know how to throw down. I want everyone to know that I spelled hemorrhoids right on my first try, without Dictionary.com’s help. What a success for me!

Belated birthday wishes to Coxasaurus. Twenty-two is fairly non-descript, eh?

Chrissy is escaping Dillard’s and going to work for BMI in Nashville, which is cool because she has a RIM degree and can finally use it. Plus she’s excited that it’s a desk job and now she can finally wear heels. Desk jobs, despite how they eventually sculpt your ass into a heart shape, rule.

I’m calling Earthlink tomorrow to try and get dial-up at home again. I can’t wait for that familiar frustration of being disconnected every 10 minutes to set in. It’s better than driving to the library every time I have an assignment for my online course. I need to be able to obsessively check my e-mail every 10 minutes. Don’t you?