It's 3:13 in the morning. I'm making an outline for my paper on the political/economic factors that led to the brain drain during the 80s and 90s in Nigeria. I've had lots of cookie dough ice cream, lots of drunken phone call reports from Low/Pinnacle, one Hilary Duff movie, and this amazing email:
I just took a momentary break from attempting to write my paper in Hartley/procrastinating to go back to my room and get my iPod charger and a diet coke. So it's 1:50, and I'm waiting for the elevator to return, and David Billingsey stumbles out of the bathroom, looks and me, and yells "I got the wrong girl! I hooked up with the wrong girl!" and i'm like, "umm? sorry?" and he's like, "i was going for the other one, but I got the wrong one!" and as i was trying to figure out how to get out of this odd situation, the elevator opens and who comes out but Neha and your suitmate/wyatt's friend whose name I can never remember (andrew??). And neha is wearing a basbeall hat and is like dancing around as the doors opened and she sees me and goes, "HEY!! HEY!!! Can I give you a kiss???" and I'm like, umm, NO. and she goes, "just on the cheek, just on the cheek!" and then andrew (??) and david corner me and i throw my arm in front of my face and neha half kisses me on the cheek. and then the other elevator opens, i speed toward it, rudy comes out, and david goes, "hey man, wanna smoke?" And the thing I'm thinking as I descend is, wow, these people do not need any more mind-altering substances this evening.
and now it's back to south african housing policy. but at least i have diet coke. and a funny story. :-)
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