This is a celebration, bitches.

I got Nicole's number tonight. Not that many of you know who she is or even care. But if all goes as planned, I'm going to call her tomorrow and we're going to go to Casino el Camino. Is everything coming up Milhouse?

UPDATE: It is astounding that there aren't any typos in that post. I was three sheets to the wind — probably had somewhere on the order of 15 beers all told yesterday. Right after I published, I set me alarm for 8.00 a.m., crawled in bed, and passed out. I woke up and the alarm was blaring, it was 9.15 a.m., and I had missed class once again. Okay, I'm going to go devote my life to drinking water for the next couple hours.

UPDATE II: My day went something like this: Recovered from hangover, paid rent, called Nicole and arranged to go to Casino around 8.00, called Lilly and left message that said, "It's on, we're going after I get done playing basketball. Could there be a better day?" (I mean, basketball, beer, burgers, and a girl all in the same day? Unprecedented.) Then as I'm driving to basketball, she calls and reschedules for tomorrow. Then I sprain my ankle — my right ankle, which I'd never sprained before, meaning it will take a lot longer to heal than my four-times-sprained left ankle — when I come down on someone's foot.

Sitting at my living room at 8.30 with a pack of ice on my throbbing foot, I told Robert, "Well, this wasn't what I expected to be doing three hours ago." Ah, well, that was yesterday. Today promises to be better.