  We won! Much, much, much more importantly Stevie Weller, my former flame/infatuation/object of extreme physical urges was at the game, visiting from college. Speaking of which, I had my ass grabbed! Cool! Oh wait, I am a pseudo-feminist and having a punk freshman touch me is totally un cool. The prick. Bobby B. (who was another perverted ass last year... there was much attention played to underwear, particularly mine, which pissed me off and made Mary quite upset) was hanging out with us and, indeed, was drunk. He begged us for a ride home and we oblidged stupidly. He was slurring his speech and standing too close and falling over himself. Cool!
He talked to me about how different I was from last year, along with a lot of other "come hither" things I couldn't understand. He was, however, sober enough to notice me house on the ride home. "Hey, wasn't the kid who called in the bomb threats to Sac... didn't he live...? " "Yes, my brother. " "Whaa...?!? " Ah... the hijinks of Spokane kids who have to make their own entertainment. Illegal activities are surpassed only by smallmindedness in this place. A. .... A. 
