mainsqueeze's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'm Not Ready Angela, I hope you are feeling a little bit better. Nobody's dignity should be in tatters for very long. Thanks for the note. I was waiting for you to say hello, but you seemed a little nervous or whatever. I usually don't chat up girls, on account of me being married, so that's my excuse. Thanks as well for the shirt compliment. Jonah's a great guy, and I try to support him however I can. Some closing advice- When you point at someone and say, "Look at his shirt," or whatever and then stand next to him without saying anything, you're only going to make everyone involved uncomfortable. Next time, just walk right up there like the rock star (or schlockstar) that you are and introduce yourself. By the way, your note was very well written. Did you learn to write like that in the Clark County School District? If so, there's hope for us all. un abrazo, Josh Friday night, Crystal, Cameron, and I went to see TSOL at the Las Vegas Mercury's 2nd anniversary party. The night was uneventful, really, except for the part when I flew into the bespectacled, Jonah-shirt-wearing dreamboat I'd been trying to talk to all night. Some punk boy was furiously swinging his arms, going around in the circle pit, when WHAMMO! His stocky, leather-clad torso connected with my stocky, accident-prone torso, and I went sailing across the room. After I recovered from the shock (and temporary paralysis, due to embarassment) I ran far, far away, and I sat in a corner, and I wrote a note. In the note, I identified myself as the human missile, made a few self-deprecating jokes, and wrote my email address. Of course, I never gave The Boy the note. I tried, and tried, and finally I handed it to Crystal and said, "Put it in a fucking scrapbook, or something." As we were leaving, we saw The Boy walking just a few feet ahead of us. Crystal asked if I wanted her to give it to him. No, I said, he's probably really mean. Look at his shoes, I told her, those are mean person shoes. We reached the car, and by this time, The Boy was about 150 yards away. I turned to Crystal, and I told her that I'd changed my mind. I wanted her to do it. She sprinted over to him, and gave him the note, and the next day, he replied. Rock, dude. 11:15 p.m. - 2003-02-04 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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