I have come to that conclusion. Maybe I ought to clarify because I don't think I'm high-maintanence in the traditional definition of the term. I can't be bothered to get my hair done every six weeks. Getting a regular trim is too much like work! I do have fake nails, because I'm an incessant nail biter and I can't grow my own to save my life, however, I cannot stand having to go every two weeks to get them done. I both love and hate it. I feel absolutely decadent and it's really relaxing but I hate having to do it. It makes me crazy. Maybe I'm just like Sally in "When Harry Met Sally" when Harry tells her that she's the worst kind, she's high maintanence but she thinks she's low maintanence. I, however, do not order things on the side. Anyway. There's my thought of the day.

Sometimes, life is just too comedic. I've always said that God has a sense of humour, a rather twisted, questionable sense of humour, but one none the less. This evening, I went to Trisha and Paulnotpaul's new place which is off of Hertel. Yes, they have had to move to Parkside as a result of the advent of the sproglet. It's a lovely place. Anyway, whilst there, Trisha informed me that she had a surprise for me. Actually, we were walking to Kosta's as the time, but that is neither here nor there. So, after food, I was attempting to help them unpack some things and such when she exclaimed, "Oh! Your surprise!" and then ran off. When she returned, she dangled a very familiar red and black object before- my wallet that has a strap that slips over one's wrist that I lost that fateful night of her bachelorette party. Those of you that were there, know the time we had and might possibly remember that I was drunk off my ass. Not only was I drunk off my ass, but I was drunk off my ass in a black wig! Good times! Okay, okay, I digress again! So, the wallet that I remembered tossing on her loveseat in the front room in a drunken haze at about 4:30 in the morning was no where to be seen! The next only natural assumption was that it was lost somewhere on Allen St. And yet, there it was all of the time, hidden in the folds of fabric on her loveseat! I feel somewhat vindicated but also like I've lost a good drinking story. Or did I gain another story? I think it might be both. All I could do was laugh when I saw it tonight. What else was there to do? Madness. At least I now have that 20-odd dollars and various forms of ID back, including my Buff State ID when I ridiculously short, copper red hair! I am so glad that I have that back! Good night, fair E-strippers!

I think I'm beginning to like someone that I'm not sure I'm supposed to and I don't know how I feel about this. And I mean Really like! This sucks!

After reading Jason's last post, I am reminded of just how similar the problems of men and women really are! Jason, your story is the male version of mine. I have a tendency to keep myself so separated and apart from the whole dating thing, I don't even know what I'm doing and I do it for the very same reasons as you, minus the whole girlfriend's mouth thing, of course. Let me tell you, you get mired there for so long, you get to the point where you are so comfortable with telling yourself that there's no point as he (in my case, "she" in your's) will just shoot you down anyway so you might at well not even try. You begin to think that you are doomed to be alone forever. (God, I'm depressing myself!) Take heart! Talk to that girl! You will regret if you don't. Trust me. I'm speaking from experience.

Okay, I just saw a nun with permed hair!