I hate finals week. Lord, I can't take it! Anyways, Christian's birthday was a weird old time. These Pittsburgh fans from Omaha were jacking the dancefloor and one tried to start shit with me because Christian was dancing with his wife. Sorry dude, turtlenecks and guido chains aren't cool. Then a (possibly) gay dude sat next to me and wanted me to go dance. I felt a little odd, but flattered in a weird way. He probably viewed me in the same way all the ladies do, as a big teddy bear. Oh, and there was a bachelorette party of very large women that no one was dancing with. Nate kept pushing me into them, and one kept grabbing mine and Christians respective asses. I would have rather been harassed by the gay dude.
I was in the Coffman bookstore a few minutes ago, deciding which periodical I would like to purchase for the day. It was down to Sports Illustrated and Rolling Stone. I went with SI when I looked in Rolling Stone and they had nearly the exact same top 50 list for albums of the year as Blender. Rolling Stone has become a piece of shit in the last five years. I am so sick of seeing pictures of Federline and Paris Hilton in there. Too bad I didn't want to spend the nine bucks on Mojo or Q. British music mags are hype driven trash sometimes, but at least they do stories on actual bands and some obscure older stuff also.
Christmas is gonna really suck this year. I haven't done any shopping, and I can wait to see my extended family. My uncle Danny actually walked away from me in mid-sentence on Thanksgiving because I wasn't talking about him. Everyone gets drunk as shit and theres a bunch of unsupervised little kids running around interrupting my TV watching. Thats what happens when you have six aunts and uncles and thirteen cousins.
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