A sad story about how I didn't call home
Wensday, August 14, 2002 - 22:01

Today one of my friends from school who's been on an exchange program for a year was back in town. He's fun. So him, me, New Girl, Other Girl who I've never given a monicker to, and the Slurper went to a posh lounge, where we drank some beer and chewed the fat. I don't normally like to "drink some beer", but today it was okay. Good times.

The Slurper, who is exactly like a Sim whose social meter is way in the red, came along because he was standing in the computer lounge like a pathetic puppy dog all day long waiting for us fun people to do something. He knew if he stood around long enough we'd be forced to invite him to whatever it was that he knew we were planning. So we, or actually New Girl, since she has a soft spot for the Slurper (don't ask me why), were/was forced to invite him. He's such a weirdo.

We caught our old friend up on all the gossip he'd missed over the year. Highlights included: Mr. Knowitall shaking his bootay at the CAT conference (at the previous CAT conference, which the old friend helped organize, Mr. Knowitall went swimming in front of everyone, hairy back, bald head and all [don't think I'm making fun of him for that--ain't nothing he can or should do about perfectly natural things...what I'm making fun of him about is his lack of social skills, because he was the only one swimming at a party of 100 people, blah blah]), recent pomposity committed by the Pompous Ass who didn't break his foot sucking his own dick, the drama queen tendencies of one mean grad student who has been here far too long, and the religious inclinations of a disturbingly large number of students being admitted to the program.

And we also all talked about how we hate freptology and how we all (except our old friend and the Slurper) want to quit. There's no real point to freptology outside of the field, and while I can appreciate learning for learning's sake, well, you don't want to spend the rest of your life doing something that's pointless, do you? Sure, certain sub-fields in freptology actually have real-life ramifications, but a lot of it is just plain crap.

Anyway, we left for the lounge from school. Mr. Pooh was going to be surfing, and we were going to be getting back from the lounge early, but I didn't get home until 8:30 (which is still pretty early, ain't it?), and Mr. Pooh didn't find any waves, so he'd been home since 5 and had made dinner. He was watching The Who: Live at the Royal Albert Hall DVD (which is fantastic) and said to me when I came in: "Your dinner's cold." Isn't that so sad?!? Poor Mr. Pooh! If I'd known he'd be home I would have called him and he could have come over to the lounge to see our old friend, but alas...