801...

On my way to delivering a box of chocolates to my partners at unnamed coffee shop last week, I ended up giving the box of chocolates to the employees of my favorite pizza place. The guy working the register wrote the number 801 on receipt paper and slipped it to me. I don't get it. Do you?

You want to know what else I don't get? How in the world my time in Chicago has become such a...flashback? It all started a couple of weeks ago when I heard that someone was hating on me at a bar because I went on a date with their friend and didn't ever call him again. I will say right now, the date was great. The guy is a very nice guy and not too bad to look at either. There just wasn't anything there...can't be helped. I would have been more of a jerk if I'd kept going out with him. After this "bar" conversation I proceeded to get dirty looks and whispers from some of these people. What did I do?

Again, yesterday I ended up in a stupid ninth grade-style argument with someone I really don't want to fight with. I care about this person and it was stupid. It was all because of some conversation that, once again, I wasn't there for but apparently was about me. It's not my fault my friends open there mouths sometimes and give too much information on things that don't matter anymore. I had nothing to do with it and it somehow ended up being my fault. It's over now and everythings fine.

Even this blog is sounding ninth grade. I give up.

On a slightly lighter note: I put a post up a while ago, that no longer exists, with a video of me making fun of people asking people out on MySpace. I took it down because...well, I had been drinking and no one needs to see that side of me. Ever. In truth I have no problems with people asking people out on MySpace or e-mail. It's kind of cute actually. I was having a discussion with someone about this on the phone yesterday. I logged on to my space (your welcome...) and a total stranger had put the moves on me in a MySpace message. It wasn't creepy or anything by any means...but the timing was...pretty perfect.

Can I just say that it is warm outside and it's February? I beginning to think all you people who took such time and care to warn me about Chicago winters were just trying to fool me. Either that or it still rings true that I bring heat.

It's a beautiful day. If you don't have to work get outside NOW. I did. I feel good.