The Diary of Queen Mothy |
Boston Athletic Company Guy written @ 5:55 PM on October 27, 2002 (This is my second entry for the day. Backtrack.) Dude, you guys won't believe what I saw right before dinner. I was standing in line at about 5 o'clock waiting for the cafeteria staff to open the place up, and there was this guy standing in front of me. He was the immensely dark, tall, handsome type. Very Italian (or was he Spanish?). He was wearing a blue jogging suit. On the back of his jacket was a circular emblem with the words "Boston Athletic Company" on the outside rim, and in the center of the logo was the picture of an old-style unicorn. It may have been psychologically induced hysterium, but I already felt deeply connected to this very nice looking male specimen. He studied me when the cafeteria door was opened. Oh my God. What if the unicorn on his jacket is a sign?! My logical side says, "He probably doesn't even know what the fuck a unicorn is or the fact that he's got one on the back of his jacket." But what if it is an omen? How weird would that be? Bottom line, Fate and Men have to stop screwing with me. This is not healthy. *sigh* Can you believe I've devoted a place in the realm of the Internet for this little anecdote? This ranks up in importance with the jumping washing machine from the last entry. Which sounds really funny now that I've read that over a second time. I'm probably going to have weird people e-mail me after I post this entry asking me to sell them the pot I'm smoking. Just for kicks, I thought about calling home and asking my mom as soon as she picked up the phone, "Hey, what do you think about me getting my hair streaked pink, an eyebrow ring, and a unicorn tatoo that says Boston Athletic Company around it? I personally think it's a great idea." The sad part is my mom would probably endorse the idea. And Dad would send money. My roommate believes the other girls on the floor hate her. I don't understand where she gets this from. I mean, I don't really talk to the other girls on the floor, except the one that's in my art class every now and then, but they were always quite civil to me if conversation was inevitable. My roommate sternly believes they hate her though. Hmmm. This deserves some investigation. My in-box is empty. I am unhappy. Someone send me something.
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