I'm in labs quite often, if you hadn't noticed (thanks for caring about my life, asshole [just kidding {...butthead}]). We've been waiting on chemistry test gradation, and as I was up in the lab writing a lab report this afternoon, along with a few kids in my lab, my professor was calling people in one at a time to get their test grades. Most of the news wasn't good - I think the average and median were both around 62 - so by the time he called me in, I was close to panicking. See, I always think I know what I'm doing, except then I'm afraid I don't. Do I suffer from nonconfidence in my chemistry abilities? Abso-fraggin'-loutely. ...I need to work on that. Anyway, he called me in because I missed a single question, and he wanted me to look at the answer key to make sure that he hadn't screwed the answer up.

MOAR CONFIDENCE. DO I HEAR MOAR CONFIDENCE? MOAR CONFIDENCE TO THE MAN IN THE BACK WITHOUT THE HAT!

And thus I'm mostly over not going to pride. Stacy*, in her infinite wisdom, reminded me that if I couldn't go, it was because I shouldn't go. Some days I believe in fate, some days I believe in destiny, some days I believe in luck, and some days I just believe.

Still, I decided drinking tonight would be a good idea. Result? I am a little tipsy and I've invented a new drink, the spiced rum'n'A&W, which isn't bad. Try it if you want, but as I'm certain that I'm the first one to ever think of it, I intend to collect royalties whenever you make it.

In other news, engagements annoy me. Not only gay engagements (more on that if I feel like it), but engagements in general. In brief, I think it's because of my own perceived shortcomings: I'm in a place where I can't even get a date, much less commit to a relationship, much much less commit to a lifetime.

Yet when an old friend (who shall, at her request, remain nameless) wrote me relatively unexpectedly this evening to announce her engagement, I felt the warm glow of Christmas lights. Part of that is the rum (no doubt upon sobriety I shall look at this entry with the intense monocle of incredulity), and part of it is because this person is the last person I ever would have imagined getting married, and part of it is the analogous wonder of seeing goats dance ballet: I want to know how she's going to do it. I'm kinda hoping I get an invite, and hoping even more that I can attend.

And now, some advice. One of my lab partners, the one who's young (just nineteen) and the one whom I do not have a crush on, explicated why he thought anal sex was awkward, uncomfortable, and weird, I couldn't say anything. As in, I was literally frozen by the awkwardness, unable to do anything but cheer when Stacy* came and rescued me for lunch. The lab partner I do have a crush on made an awkward joke that could've easily been a "ha ha I've so done that" cover, but I'm trying not to read too much into it. Just because he's smouldering and I'm frustrated.... No! I shall not address thee, mistress of sorrows!

This really shouldn't go out until my system's repolarized. Or depolarized. Whatever. It will, anyway.

Kellie* texted me tonight to tell me that if she were a gay man, she would totally be sexing it up with me. She's my guiding light, that girl.

(*yes, their actual names)

Man, I hate being irrationally pissed for many days. People don't want to be around me. Hell, I don't want to be around me.

In related news, I am not going to pride, due in part (or in whole) to the utter lameness of every. single. person. I was supposed to go with.

In unrelated news, I really love Grape-Nuts.

In related news that is unrelated to the unrelated news but is related to the related news, I've decided that while it's nice to say "being gay isn't a big deal!" such it something you would say only from the sidelines. The passage of the new measure involving patient determination of who's allowed in the hospital room threw this into sharper focus.

In a final related piece, I dislike the gays who play at straight acceptance. Specifically, I think gays getting engaged and buying rings and planning weddings is the whipped rose on top of a ridiculous cake. C'mon, guys! Let's continue to argue legalities, but let's also start our own fucking religion or something, huh?

Current plan: Mad seduction skillz at pride so that I don't ever have to buy my own alcohol. Good idea? Good idea!

For the record, I find it incredibly frightening when a person dubs him/herself a "Reagan conservative." It sounds too much like a rallying cry for burning homos and science in the same fire.

In other news, it's April? What happened to March? Or February? Oh, yeah, and I'm going to pride next weekend. I've never been to one and I'm nervous-excited.

90s/dance Pandora stations for the win.
This synchronous sequence struck me:
"It's Gotta Be You" by the Backstreet Boys
"It's Gonna Be Me" by N*Sync
Weird, no? And, yeah, I'm eccentric.

I changed my title! I changed my title! I don't think I can do anything about the address, but I suppose I'll let the bygones live.

I'm going to update more often. Goal: go! 'Course, it's probably not the most realistic goal to make before a solid week of tests, but there you go. Kimono is from the Greek....

ohmygodohmygodohmygod that was totally an earthquake and not the washing machine shaking the entire house!

On the one hand, you see what chemistry does to my logic circuits.
On the second hand, anyone who's west of the Rockies just updated their Facebook status, which means that the quake was so big that it actually shook the internet. I wonder where it was centered?

Adding lol to the end of your stupid question doesn't reduce the stupidity of said question.