In the biggest hypocrite move of my own private blogosphere, I have started a new blog back at ole faithful-- blogspot.com

Check it out, and Take A Chance On A Chaunce

That's the first time I've used the name like that.. I feel dirty

See you next fall!

The blog will be giving birth at the end of the summer to . . .tourblog.

“I won’t rest until every day is Black History Month.”

But Mister Gates, that's literally impossible!

Last Friday I got up at 8:00, recovered from all the ugly naked people I still had in my immediate memory, grabbed my bags and headed for the airport.  I arrived in plenty of time for my flight, upgraded to first class for only $50—what a steal!—and then helped an ambiguously European man named “Michele” check into his flight using the e-ticket kiosk.  “Everything is so much more advanced here,” Michele philosophized to me.  “In Europe everything is—” and then he made some sound and used a hand gesture which I interpreted as “cultured.”  I proceeded to my gate but first stopped off at Dunkin’ Donuts to procure one of their visually stimulating NEW! SMOOTHIES!  I asked Darlene which flavor she thought was better, mango/passionfruit or strawberry/banana, and she said “Strawberry and banana” and for some reason, I believed her.  Needless to say, it was terrible and I drank the whole thing in ten minutes…I’m not sure at what point this would have occurred but it is undeniable that Darlene inserted around two and a half pounds of sugar syrup into my “smoothie."

The flights were both relatively short and fairly uncomfortable, except that in first class I was able to peruse American Airlines’ “premium passenger” magazine Celebrated Living in addition to their plebian edition, American Way.  In CL I learned all about how hunk and relevant celebrity Harry Connick, Jr. is doing something right now and is really talented in a number of areas, while in AW I learned all about how beautiful and relevant celebrity Teri Hatcher is actually really relevant and successful and (finally) she told me how she would spend an (obvious) day in the island paradise of Philadelphia.  Thanks to her I now know that you can eat lunch at a nice restaurant, go shopping at nice stores, take a nap at the Ritz, eat dinner at either of two nice restaurants, and then go out to bars before returning to the Ritz.  Also in CL I finally got the low-down on all the classiest and hardest to find hotels in America and abroad such as Ritz-Carlton London, the Ritz Paris, Park Hyatt Tokyo, Ritz-Carlton St. Thomas, Four Seasons New York, Ritz-Carlton New York and…Four Seasons Sydney.  I’m just glad they were finally able to get the research done on this article and get it out this year-- it’s journalism/blogger legend that this piece has been in the pipeline for 20-25 years.

After arriving in Nashville, Tennessee I had to wait for my parents’ arrival from Cali…fornia an hour after mine, so I decided to enjoy a few tunes on my Apple iPod^© and engage in the beloved activity of people-watching.  I have gleaned one steady conclusion from my people watching in Nashville which I believe resonates with the conclusions of a number of other people-watchers: people in the South are really fat.  “Whoa, whoa buddy, don’t get all insulting and hypocritical!  I’m from the South and I’m not fat and trashy…you’re from Southern California, why aren’t you fat??”   Well Southernblog, I am not saying that all people in the Drrty South are fat, just most of them, and don’t get me wrong—everyone in Los Angeles is pretty much hideous or beautiful, but they are all skinny.  Anyway, returning to my prepared remarks on obesity: I just don’t get it.

Thinking about this phenomenon with my dad on the drive into Bowling Green, Kentucky we mused shortly on the topic but also discussed traffic and le monde.  As we exited Highway 65 we began driving through town on the street my brother referred to as “the big, long street with all the restaurants.”  Boy oh boy, normalblog, was he right!  We proceeded to pass approximately sixty restaurants of the following names: McDonald’s, Hardee’s, Toot’s, Bob Evan’s, Tumbleweed’s, Steak n’ Shake, Arby’s, Longhorn’s, Mariah’s, Denny’s, Hop’s Grill and Bar, Toby’s Place, Garfield’s, and Burger King.  Not only is the number of possessive apostrophes in this last clause overwhelming, but these restaurants ALL serve BBQ pork, chicken, hamburgers, steak, fried chicken, French fries, sandwiches, and lard, pretty much exclusively.  As I began thinking back to my originally posed question regarding all the fat peepz, I began arriving at what scientists call “an empirical conclusion.”  I’ll let you figure that one out, blog.  Stay tunered.

Date: Fri, 19 May 2006 00:25:00 -0400
From: Anne-Marie Zapf-Belanger <amzapf@fas.harvard.edu>
To: Michael Carter Padgett <padgett@fas.harvard.edu>
Subject: Re: Proposition

Haha, this is possibly one of the more entertaining responses I've gotten so far. I don't really know what to say at this point. I feel a little overwhelmed.

AMZB

On 5/19/06, Michael Carter Padgett <padgett@fas.harvard.edu> wrote:
      Anne-Marie,

      So thanks for sending out your proposition, it's really sweet of you to ask.

      I was thinking and I'd love to get together for a session but to tell you the
      truth, Lamont is the only true library for me. So I just came (ha!) to the
      conclusion that we should definitely juice in Widener to dually fulfill the
      requirement, but I'd like to propose a second juicing in Lamont. I'm intimately
      familiar with both libraries so we've got that covered and as of 2003, I don't
      have any major venereal diseases.

      Anyway, let me know what you think. If I don't hear back from you no worries,
      I'll just take it really personally.

      Good luck with chuicing your juicing,

      MP

So I was sitting in this office today talking with my friend and I said "Dude what should I blog about today?  I've been mad negative and depressed lately so I want to take it up a notch and write something happy and uplifting."  So he naturally suggested that I write about "how fun it is to stand around and make fun of people."  I responded, "Yeah man, but I'm trying to be a bit more positive right now."  So he suggested that I talk instead about the shitty weather or something.  Frustrated but determined to still figure out a good topic I mused ouloud about "how many buffalo wings I ate today and how I haven't blogged about buffalo wings in awhile. But also," I realized, "I haven't blogged about homeless people in a really long time and that's like my favorite topic."  So then he kept checking his email and I decided that I would write about both topics, but definitely also about making fun of people at a later date.

In my return to the normal selection of dining hall food (read: not the 50% edible soup selection of the past week and a half) I gorged on buffalo wings and tots today.  I think definitely one of the best dining hall combinations in town/Harvard is a plate half-piled with buffalo wings, half-piled with tots, and three large cups of grapefruit juice.  Why is the juice machine always closed after-hours when I am in the mood for some grapefruit? Why is it called grapefruit juice anyway?  Doesn't have anything to do with grapes, at least I don't think.

Yesterday I was talking about homeless people with three snocks and gave a short version of my treatise on homeless life in the square, that is, how to tell the poseurs from the realz (see blog archives for deets).  Someone, not me, then made the observation that all these bums probably have really interesting stories and a suggestion was put to the table that we could go sing at one of the homeless shelters for like twenty minutes and chill afterward and listen to their stories.  Honestly though this is probably the most depressing thing I could think of,  primarily for the homeless people.  I think if I were "down n' out" the last thing I would ever want to do is listen to a bunch of snot-nosed chaunce college students singing about some bullshit and snapping their clean, well-trimmed fingers.  I mean, I know we all have a subconscious hope that the homeless people in the square all went to Harvard and have really interesting, well-articulated stories involving different countries and war and a bunch of other shit, but it's probably just really, really, really depressing.

I've been thinking about what I said about usage of the word "hot" and I think I have misrepresented my stance.  Jon Gentry, you can say that shit whenever you want, man.

I have also just updated my facebook.com status with the result that when I look at my profile it kindly tells me "You are a brah."  What do you think about that M. Blogue?

I still can't figure out if you are a man or a woman...

As I remarked to a few people yesterday, I’ve shaped the image which I think most accurately portrays the State of the Throat.   It feels as if I was diagnosed with tonsillitis and taken in for an operation which was subsequently botched, further injuring my tonsils, and then the surgeon left a number of sharp utensils in my throat to cause even more pain.   All this has instilled in me a temporary mindset of extreme negativity which is one part depressing and two parts fun!   On that note,

Words and phrases I am sick of hearing/sometimes saying:

1.  Awesome/awesomeness/any variant – The fact that this word has seeped into the jargon of every American aged 12-24 as the primary descriptive adjective regardless of appropriateness, to me, is both sad and annoying.   I remember reading recently somewhere (where, blog, where was it?) a similarly themed editorial about the usage of "awesome" in reaction to anything from "How do you feel this morning?" to "What’d you think of the funeral?" to "I finished running the analyses you requested on the Brooks account, sir."

2.  Ancillary – this word has begun popping up everywhere in my life, mostly in film lectures.   What happened to "secondary"? "Secondary" not good enough anymore? I think it’s a pretty neat word and I plan to use it a lot now and…exclusively.

3.  Rockstar – This word bothers me as much or more than "awesome" although it is probably used less.   Not only does the connotation of the word as describing someone who is "outstanding, or a star, or someone really unique and amazing and AWESOME to be around" annoy the shit out of me, but pretty much every use I encounter is also annoying and typically incorrect.  "Rockstar" should never be used in reference to any Harvard student besides Mark Eskenazi or perhaps Rivers Cuomo, and especially not as a complimentary note of thanks in response to the completion of an everyday task.

4.  D-bag/Douchebag – It’s just plain and simple that these words are passé.  "What to use instead?" you might ask but I don’t have an answer for you.  Just try something less douchebaggy, blog, and perhaps more original.

5.  Hot – I’m getting more of a headache contemplating why people still use this word to mean "cool" or "awesome" or "worth my time."

6.  Superlatives, especially ending in "ever" – Possibly the most annoying descriptive construction EVER har har.   Honestly, blog, are those the cutest shoes ever? Is Simple Plan really the best band ever?   Was Meet the Fockers really the funniest movie ever? Was I really the cutest baby ever?  Yes…yes I was.  Regardless, please stop saying shit like this because it is simply unnecessary.  The phenomenon of convincing someone that you really liked something, or thought it was funny, or thought it was scary, or good, or bad, by exaggerating it to the "____ ever!" has resulted in a complete reliance on superlatives in describing everything.   Ever hear of "The Boy Who Cried Wolf," blog?  Well maybe you should go check it out with the rest of America because I don’t believe what you said about your sorority gurlz.

Also—Goldberg, I loved the Ben Folds concert but just talked about the shit I didn’t like, sorry to mislead you.

1. There really just aren't enough blogs on here

2. Nevermind

Still funny to me that “weekend” in French is “week-end.”   But I guess we still bastardize the double entendu by using the infinitive so, Francois, we are even.   Shit, have I already blogged about this?

This weekend was pretty interesting but assuredly pretty much the same as all the others.   After staying up all night with a bunch of snocks I naced my Latin quiz and headed off to a garden party.   I think that there are four important elements to create a perfect Harvard garden party: 1) a ton of booze and a bartender to serve the underage patricians; 2) a bunch of people wearing incredibly silly outfits typically involving bright, ill-matched polo shirts with raised collars, offensive blazers, and a lot of ill-sized seersucker; 3) a bunch of these people who have no idea how ridiculous they look; and 4) a scorpion pool.   To adequately implement the last of these you first need a kiddie pool, a lot of orange juice and pineapple juice, and liters upon liters of shitty, shitty vodka.   Add to this 300 straws, five cocktail umbrellas, a bunch of eager coeds, and a hefty dosage of mononucleosis and oral herpes and you’ve got yourself a recipe for success.   Luckily my symptoms haven’t shown up yet, except that I feel completely terrible and refuse to make the connection in my mind.

After waking up surprisingly undressed in my bed with no sheets at 8:00 Saturday morning, I had a deliciously lengthy breakfast and headed off to Salem to sing a bunch of old songs for a bunch of old people.  The drive back was vomit-inducing as we drove in circles, lost, while ironically listening to Emerson College’s Saturday program of a capella recordings and talking shit about them.   Soon after, I ventured into Boston to complete a few tasks, bringing me to Newbury Tailoring Company.   These dudes really have it down: they mark your clothing while wearing t-shirts and jeans, surrounded by a scary selection of action figures, whilst listening to “Ghostbusters,” “Funky Town,” and other songs you never actually hear in real life.   But boy oh boy can they tailor!   I also finally went into that bizarre department store Louis Boston and was amazed to find that they have an astoundingly hideous selection of women’s shoes.

Today I did a number of things not worth mentioning and then attended the Lardfest (Ha! Yardfest!) extravaganza in Harvard Lard.   Unsurprisingly enough the food was gross.   I kind of dug the beef/goop burritos and the Cape Cod chips, but everything else looked like an accident.   And the desserts were disappointing.   I’m not quite sure who the opening act of the show was, but they were generally terrible: some twat and his friend were playing guitar and drums together but could neither have rocked less nor have written more clichéd tunes.   I think the words “down on the Sunset strip” actually escaped the singer’s mouth, at which point an angel was shot point blank by God himself.   This might have been a coincidence though, I can't remember.   Ben Folds was entertaining although he didn’t play pretty much any of the songs I would have liked him to.   I guess this was lucky for me because no one found out about the “I’ll Have Your Abortion” tattoo I got across my entire chest yesterday to strip naked and show him during the anticipated rendition of “Brick.”   Actually I don’t even like this song and now I’m confused.

All in all the show was great except for everything he said when he wasn’t singing.   Also the bassist was really, really fucking ugly, man.   Like fugly.   Alright, I feel like death and I’m going to bed.   This is the most negative entry I have written in a long time, but somehow it feels like home.

<3

I recently wrote this article for publication in the Vice issue of Venture Magazine.  Here's a sneak peak!

This weird dude sitting next to me who is also my non-Russian (non)roommate and I just compiled three lists in response to his statement "Yo we really need to start hooking up with more celebrities."

Things they offer:
Sex
Perceived physical and emotional gratification
Money for driving shoes and other unnecessary items
Social capital
Good reputation... possibly
Bragging rights

Things they don’t offer:
Actual sex
Ever meeting us
Hope
Money
Social capital
Anything relating directly to our lives at all
Good conversation

Things we offer them:
Possibly intentional impregnation
Our dignity
Nothing
Highly developed vocabulary
Constructive criticism of career path
Fresh material for jokes about “that awkward Jewish kid I slept with from Harvard who thought he was outrageously handsome!!!?1”

 

After literally years of temptation, I finally succombed yesterday and clicked on the ad featured at the top of my AOL Instant Messenger Buddy List (I have no friends) enticing me to “get the facts on marijuana.”   Oddly enough I previously assumed that I had at least one or two of “the facts” within my possession, but oh BOY was I incorrect.

First off, a fact which may come as a shock to us all: “most teens don't even know that marijuana use can hurt their grades and SAT scores”!!!   Despite realizing that I am totally screwed for my upcoming SAT exam, I decided to continue browsing this informative website.   First they dished me a strong serving of the “Lowdown” letting me know that, in fact, marijuana can be eaten in certain foods or smoked.   Also, it is an illegal drug.   Continuing on to the even more enticing list of links, I decided to find out “Why do people try drugs?”   Upon the full load of this page I have now realized that this website s possibly the funniest website on the world wide web, right next to www.theonion.com and www.bangbus.com.   I wouldn’t directly quote if I could think of a funnier way to relay the page’s information, but here two reasons people apparently try drugs:

1. "Lots of people turn to drugs for a little excitement because they say there's nothing else to do but watch the same Simpsons' rerun for the tenth time or hang out at the Burger King. But people who make these kinds of decisions usually find out that drugs are ultimately really a waste and painful."
2. "Because they think it makes them seem grown-up.   This is one of the weirdest reasons. Think about it…Why would an adult want to use drugs."
   

The “man” at freevibe.com also has informed me that “that most teen pregnancy occurs when either or both parties are high at the time of conception,” a statistic which I would really like to see whittled down into the scenarios of one of the partners being high and one not. That’s just lazy.

Padge responds:

1. “Teens who have used marijuana are four times more likely to have been pregnant or to have gotten someone pregnant than teens who have never smoked pot.”   That’s because those kids are the dorks.
2. “Compared to teens with no sexually active friends, teens who report half or more of their friends are sexually active are more than six and one-half times likelier to drink.” Again, that’s because those kids are the dorks.
3. “There are far too many stories about how someone went out, got high on marijuana, lowered his/her boundaries and did something they really, really regret afterwards.” There will never be too many stories of this hourly phenomenon as long as “regret” is interpreted as “did not remember."

One of my favorite parts of the website has to be the ad next to all of this helpful information about marijuana for “Stoner Greeting Cards: For when bad things happen ‘cause someone was stoned.”   I cannot wait to send a card to all my friends for whom scenario three is a reality.

I have realized everything which is wonderful and terrible about www.facebook.com's new "status" feature.  On one hand, it is pretty sick, but on the other it allows people to put really twat remarks like "____ is probably drunk.." and "____ is kind of a big deal" among others.  Already I have seen two people with "___ is waiting for Godot" (I love you both), although one person capitalized it like "Waiting for Godot" leading me to believe she is literally the play by Beckett.

So my short Georgian roommate (maybe he's from Chechnya?) just came in and alerted me to the most important discovery of my day apart from the correct translation of the fear clause in the third sentence of today's Latin translation.

The following video should be watched for a number of reasons, mostly because it is hilarious in general but also see if you can spot a conspicuous freshman year photo taken, mind you, at a locale having nothing to do with The Woodbridge Society.  But I am glad it made its way into one of the most visually stimulating montages I have seen.

http://www.digitas.harvard.edu/~wdbridge/fiesta.mov

Digitas... that's not even a word.

As most people can judge from the fairly cold temperatures and rain storms, spring has sprung.   With a Massachusetts spring comes a host of pleasantries, including bird chirping, grey skies, and quickly fading tans.   But for me spring always marks the beginning of a renaissance, renewing my familiarity with the ugliest seasonal fashions possible.   Not even Jesus Christ in his worst nightmares could have imagined the kind of clothes people wear in springtime nowadays, mistakes which at least 300 people make every hour between classes in the yard.   Here are what I see as the three worse garments “in season” right now, may God have mercy on my blog.

1.   Capri pants, pedal pushers, fuglies—whatever your choice of word is for this abomination, they are indubitably among the worst choices most females can make in preparation for Positive Psychology lecture or even section.   The underlying problem in this case is not purely existential, but rather in their execution.   I understand that Capri pants could actually be attractive…on Italian femininas from Capri.   Unfortunately this phenomenon has managed to make its way onto the bodies of unattractive girls everywhere.   The bottom line is that these are not inherently bad, but you really must make sure that you, yes you blog, should realistically be wearing them at all.

2.   Three quarter pants or “clam diggers”—unlike the Capri, this is possibly the ugliest garment ever mass-produced, not to mention the fact that pretty much no one in America has done any “clam digging” as a result of wearing them.   The male version of the Capri, this article of clothing is pretty much unacceptable right off the bat for anyone, anywhere, except maybe 6 or 7 dudes in Italy but even that is disputable.   What makes any three quarter pants sighting worse is that it is inevitably accompanied by some sort of shoulder messenger bag and possibly a hat from Structure, if we’re taking it back to 1999.   Please God, just don’t wear cargo clam diggers either, my keyboard is covered with tears right now.

3.  Jean versions of the above—when General Hummel (Ed Harris) mutters the words “May God have mercy on our souls” in “The Rock” (1996) before launching the VX nerve gas rockets I believe he was also referring to his stake in the recent production of a number of pairs of jean pedal pushers, for which he should have been killed immediately (he eventually dies *SPOILER*).   While the jean pedal pusher hasn’t pushed its ugly head too far into Harvard culture, it has unfortunately ruined the style of Disneyland and Midwestern airports.   On the way back from my spring break destination I going through Boston customs and spied a neat little pair of jean pedal pushers.   These babies were luckily had about a four inch floral stitching design at the bottom and were accompanied by a pair of ankle high boots (up to the bottom of the pedal pushers), and a mullet.   On the woman AND the man.

In short, keep on the lookout for these and other unattractive fashions this spring.   There are a few I haven’t even touched on, but that’s ok because I don’t feel like throwing up the delicious lobster bisque I just procured from the dining hall.

Actually spring break is over, it’s raining, and all I can think about is that Lamont has raised its reserves overdue charge from $0.01 to $0.02.   Considering that I haven’t re-checked out a laptop in a number of visits I’m fairly concerned for my impending term-bill… but not really because I don’t pay that bill!

 

I’m going to have to share with you, blog, that my spring break was OK, mostly because there is nothing more boring than when you ask someone how their break was and they respond, “It was soooo awwwesome I went to Acapulco and so-and-so suffered a fairly serious injury and then these two ugly people hooked up!!”   I find myself delighted of late by other stories of equally exotic/chach Mexican locales which are not Acapulco, although I am quite glad that Harvard kids finally got the chance to venture outside the square and hang out, with each other.

 

So what’s been happening in my life lately you may ask? Or you may stop reading at this point, but I’ll tell you anyway.   Mainly I’ve been writing my treatise on smiling at people.  Most of the time when I walk around all day in the square, I smile at everybody and receive a multitude (re: a number) of reactions.   Mostly ladies and effeminate dudes smile back right away, and then “guys” give me strange looks because I am walking around smiling at them.   I think the preferred method of male recognition is the nod, which ironically is probably last on the female preferred list of recognition methods behind “Yo yo” or stealing all of their Shakespeare books in the library when they are studying for a midterm in 6 hours.

 

Recently I’ve found that duration plays heavily into the return smile.   Like if I smile at a lady and she looks really serious then usually I get scared and change sides of the street, but if I stick with it and smile for like 7 seconds at her she will usually crack and give it up.   These are always most rewarded because they are hard to get!   This is not the entire treatise, so you should literally hold your breath in anticipation until it’s published.

The bro sitting next to me is wearing a bold amount of green which I find admirable.   I, on the other hand, am wearing a bold amount of blue.   The two of us just had a really deep moment about our color-wearing but now he has returned to a vigorous reading of I Was Born A Slave.   Time for Latin!

 Hi! Michael!

 I'm Kyulee, do you remember me? I hope you do :D! I'm the one whom you taught

 writing through the web camera until I went to my new school, Berkshire school.

 I really tried to contact with you but someone did hacking my email and changed

 the password, so I could not log in and read your emails which had your

 cellphone number. Now, I'm in Korea for spring break and finally get back

 my email password. Actually, I went to Boston and visited Harvard during thanks

 giving days. It was amazing! Anyway, I really hope that you remember me and

 take care! Bye!

 Kyulee

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sometimes electronic mail is so fucking poignant that it makes me feel... like something.

As a few people have noticed and called me out on, I have not blogged in quite some time. To be exact, which is easy since the CampusTap pimps put dates on each entry, I haven?t blogged since February 21^st at 10:33 AM. Right now it is 10:43 PM, March 12^th, although this Lamont loaner laptop thinks it is 5:08 PM on March 6^th. Semantics aside, that is almost a month and I need to explain. To be honest, I just wasn?t keeping it real.  A week went by during which I thought, ?What should I blog about?? and came up with nothing.  I had lost the mindset, the observational outlook.  Then the next week I spent sleeplessly in the Donatelli room and various halls working my proverbial ass off before traveling to Scottsdale, Arizona for the big bro?s bachelor party weekend. I came back to a much more relaxed setting and began thinking about the blog, my friend. Amid questions of ?why aren?t you blogging?? and ?are you still blogging?? and ?you are being such a chach by not blogging??? I realized that I needed to take my time until I knew I could devote myself once again.

 

It was finitely more than ironic that this break occurred after a flurry of activity surrounding a website switch, but I want to tell everyone?yes, both of you?that I am back to blog and here to stay. Too many times have I or people I know done the whole ?Ooooh I haven?t blogged in awhile/I am unhappy with my blogging/I am sad and lonely that I will now do it all differently in such and such ways??and then not done a damn thang differently. I know I am ready, especially to stop talking about it, and will continue.  Blog, I love you, and I am glad we have gotten back together. The make-up sex is terrific.

 

More to come, friend(s).

 

<3

Last night, I was eating a delicious sandwich and walking to Leverett House when I stumbled upon a star-crossed lover throwing either pieces of ice or giant exploding rocks at a window in Lowell House.  As I chortled in my head about her attempts at grabbing the attention of the room?s inhabitant, I also thought to myself, ?What happened to romance??  Or, more accurately, ?I should write a blog entry about wondering what happened to romance.?  Semantics aside, what did happen?  When did people stop throwing pebbles at the breakable windows of their lovers and serenading them with a sublimely appropriate song about love or springtime?  People used to even combine these activities.

 

Yesterday I also spent a small period of time talking with a friend about his current romantic pursuits, encouraging him to ask a girl out on a simple date for coffee or tea or another potent potable.  Like so many other kids, he was reluctant, but everyone knows that some simple time conversing in their pleasure of one another?s company is always preferable and more romantic than an easy email invite to a party or a furious Lamont-facebook-messaging session in the Donatelli room.  People don?t want to just come over, hook up, and be in a relationship in the course of one or one and a half nights-- These ?people? want to be wooed and swept off their feet and carried forcefully into a restaurant to eat a meal after which you must walk them home and possibly kiss them, awkwardly.  Or I guess the other way around for girls??  Either way, blog, when you see the next opportunity for romance I urge you to take?nay, seize!?it and put it in your pocket and carry it with you all the day long.  I promise you will feel better and be happier, unless of course you get rejected in which case you will die alone.

 

Also, my last entry from my old blog so I don't have to reproduce it:

http://mcpadgett.blogspot.com/