Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Baskin Robbins for Dinner is Never a Good Sign
Sometimes, thankfully not very often, I hate being a girl. Not to be too open (who, me?), but it is my blog, so who cares. Yesterday my cramps reached an all-time terror alert. The only thing that sounded slightly good for dinner was a vat (not just a scoop, mind you, a vat) of Baskin Robbins peanut butter and chocolate ice cream. I could've happily eaten my vat, taken a bath, and passed out in an ice cream coma had it not been for Blader calling me to go out to dinner (Hooray! Saved from the ice cream after all). It was a good time. Apparently all our park flirting has paid off in a fun friendship. We went to TGI Friday's and then watched a bunch of funny You Tube videos. He's a cute boy, I enjoyed myself. Of course, it only partly takes away from my profound sadness regarding 28, but I'll be fine. I had to see this coming - the disappearing act. He is 28, after all. How could I have possibly thought it'd turn out any other way?