more musings

for the record i would just like to point out the differences in my shoes and riley’s shoes. (so i editorialize a tiny bit but i swear they’re almost exactly like that.. also that the cheerleaders were forced to buy them in 7th/8th grade. if i were friends with any cheerleaders i would have them attest to that fact but last i knew there was still a ban on all things jess… a much appreciated one i might add.

i remembered what i really needed to blog about when i blogged earlier. (all 3 things). we’ll go in chronological order beginning with a: the loss of jarod.

jarod and i are not seeing each other right now because time did not allow us to see each other anyway. i haven’t seen the boy since last wednesday over lunch and to tell the truth next week is looking worse and then i’ll be in salt lake city and it seems that with his starting classes again on monday and both of our work schedules we’re just going to not be able to work. i’m a little sad about it because i’ve grown rather attached but i also think its probably for the best. i mean i’ve basically been in a relationship since 8th grade, despite the level of commitment i was willing to admit and i’m not really desiring to feel “tied down” right now. although the “Freer” i get the more i understand the 1984 concept FREEDOM IS SLAVERY.

now on to part b: the texas roadhouse.

today around 5ish josh and i went on a suggested date to the texas roadhouse (suggested shall be defined as: the tickets were part of a date package he won at prom but the only romance was in our mutual enjoyment of our surroundings). this restaurant is insane. in typical debate fashion i’ll go ahead and break it down into subheads that don’t exist in the real world.

little one: the peanuts. this place had peanuts everywhere, litterally. when you walked in the door there was a huge barrel (i’d say 40 gallons) that held peanuts. and you’re supposed to just walk in, eat them, and throw the shells on the floor. i don’t know why this is so but you definitely walk into a pile of peanut droppings. and i hate that part of peanuts (remember in 9th grade when kyle deshelled and deflakystuffed a pound of peanuts and i ate them in all of my classes along with a jar of derekjeter skippy peanut butter). so i was grossed out. then we walked to our table and i realized i was sliding all over the place due to the peanut shells. when we got to our table we were greeted by a bucket of peanuts. a bucket. tin. full of peanuts. again you take them from the bucket and throw the leftover parts on the floor. josh and i did not engage in such behavior but he did at one point throw a peanut onto the floor.

little two: rash patriotism. because we were first time visitors we were given an american flag for our bucket of peanuts. (need i say more?)

little three: the art. we were sitting under a painting of dwight d. eisenhower, kathleen sebelius, amelia earhart, and bob dole all playing poker… does it seem odd to anyone that they had sebelius gambling because it doesn’t me (insert story here: the other day i was driving and passed the young sebelius. he’s 19/20 and drives a cherry mazda miata. oh god. brian and i make fun of boys who drive mazda miata’s. its the only good side of the male female double standard). other art, pictures of ichabod sports and cheerleaders that are painted and a huge miller draft add with halfnaked girls in cowboy hats and they may have been riding a mechanical bull (or i may have been imaginging that).. i swear all i noticed was the blond chick’s freckly shoulders. and how cool that was. even freckly-shouldered girls get drunk and look hot in cowboy hats.

little four: the food. excellent. my steak bled.

little five: the line dancing. the waiters occasionally line dance. its amazing. truly.

i completely recommend this place. this is the kind of experience you would only get at a place called texas roadhouse. dont attend if you have a weak stomach.

this puts us at part c. the death of reagan.

i must admit i’m a little sad. i mean i didn’t like his presidency and its not like how i get when i think about when kennedy died but really, i’m a little sad. maybe its because he’s not taking reaganomics with him. ::glare::

okay. now i just have a general life question. Why is it that you only see people you don’t want to see after you’ve graduated high school? my god. some of them i didn’t even see when i was in high school and now i’m out and they’re around every corner. bitches.

how’s that for a fucking novel, dan?

• Category: Journal