Forget it. Forget the story of the vomit and its warmth and the chunkiness and the hitting of my face with the vomit and...ick. It's too late for it now anyway. It was a truly Exorcist-like dream and I don't care to ever think about it again. Besides, I'm pretty sure I've told everyone I ever talk to all about it. Sorry about that, folks.

I spent the weekend with Darren, as I do every other weekend. That, of course, means I'll be headed home this coming weekend to work for peanuts, as I do on weekends that Darren isn't here. I love it because I always have something to look forward to. I had an awesome weekend - lots of laughs and sharing of essential relationship information. A good time was had by all (err. both). It was probably the last nice weekend (weather-speaking) I'll spend in Duluth as an actual resident here, so I tried to make the most of it.

Did I mention I had pizza? Lots of pizza from Pizza Hut. Moderation always was a problem of mine... I had cake, too. And chips. And overconsumption of calories in a way that shouldn't be legal. Oh yes, and it gets worse. On Saturday night, I ended up at Perkins eating a chocolate chipper sundae which made me feeloh-so- icky in such a good way. All in all, I was a bad, bad girl this weekend and now I'm left with it weighing on my conscience. Time to double-up on this dieting effort. Oofda.

That's about all that's been new in these parts. I miss my dog. Not even two weeks since I've seen the smelly little shit and I miss her. Yoses!

But wait: one last thing. Last Wednesday Brian and Kelly and I went to Twins Bar, where my parents met. I was so excited I called them up to tell them. (My dad's response? "What the hell were you doing there?!") Of course, then he proceeded to tell me he'd never been to the "new location." New location! So yes, they actually met at the OLD Twins Bar that was just down the block from the current location. All that excitement for nothing...