Thursday I don't care about you
It's Friday, I'm in love

(and apparently an elected representative of my university graduate program as well)

The evening begins with my surprise nomination to represent my program in the university's association of graduate studies. The laughter that fills the room at the mere mention of my name was stifled as the nomination was quickly seconded and... thirded? When asked whether I accepted the nomination, the only response I could make was, "How much does it pay?" More laughter. Apparently it pays nothing, though the monthly meetings I'm required to attend feature free pizza and pop. Sold! Apparently I now demand respect. Go figure.

Plans to meet The Girl in the Beret for drinks causes time to slow to a crawl as class nears its end. You would think that at some point in life the butterflies in your stomach would finally digest and cease to be an issue. But, as it stood, the fluttering of their indigestible wings led to me having hadn't eaten all day... always a good idea when drinking was on the schedule.

We meet at her place and head to the Hammer and the Tailbone pub. There we split poutine with real cheese curds. OMG! Cheese curds.. where have you been all my life? Thursday I didn't care about you, but now its Friday and all I want to do is spread your gooey goodness all over my chest and have someone lick it off. (was that outloud?) I take back all those jokes about you looking like curdled semen. While you may still look the part, you definitely don't taste it. At least I hope not. Because... yum!

Perhaps it was my hair, which thanks to handfuls of glue and the desperate need for a trim looked especially tangled. Or maybe it was the magic cardigan that I removed with gloved hands from it's protective lead box and carefully doned for the evening. More than likely it was the multiple pints of beer followed by numerous glasses of wine. But I felt charming. That is, until I failed to give the waitress enough cash to cover our tab and she was forced to catch us at the door and ask for more money. Classy.

Walking home from her place later that night, listening to a mix cd... Beat Happening, Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Cure, New Order.... 4 minute songs fly by in 4 seconds. This is bad. I realize I'm setting myself up for disappointment, but just can't help it. All signs read "Platonicville 5KM," but excuse me if I enjoy the scenery along the way.

Sigh. With a capital S.