Wotta day. Previous entries notwithstanding,

September 13, 2003

Wotta day. Previous entries notwithstanding, the evening gave every indication that it would be a good one. I had my choice of three parties to blow off (Abbott’s official ‘Studio 51’ shindig, a ΤΔΦ kegger, and something else for which this was the invitation), I had various friends and substances at my disposal, and I had two raffle tickets to win a 15-gig iPod.

Perhaps I should have taken it as a sign when, in short order, I got my ass handed to me in Soul Calibur and my raffle tickets failed to produce anything but a vague sense of disappointment. Not long after, a slight miscommunication had me ready to go to bed out of disgust, ennui, and sloth, when, as luck would have it, I was informed about another tragic death: Harry Goz. He’s cramming pennies with Alvis now, or something.

Mind you, seeing the last third (and then the first third) of Pulp Fiction made the night end on a fairly positive note.

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