The meeting was exactly what I expected it to be, a cluster-fuck. A cluster-fuck with time limits and Robert's Rules of Order, but a cluster-fuck nonetheless. I was the only non-h.o.p. person there and they were talking about shit that didn't concern me. Why was I there then? Well who the fuck knows? I sat around for an hour then excused myself. Luckily, Mike was done working out and I was able to go to dinner with him. After the long day and the bad mood of the last few days, this was a fun light-hearted evening. Exactly what I needed.

I feel a lot better. It was either Mike or the chicken-fried steak. I'm going to give Mike the benefit of the doubt and say it was him. Even if it was the chicken-fried steak, he was the one who suggested it, so he gets the credit for my mood being better.

He and I are supposed to go gallery hoping on Saturday to see the Larry Clark and Pierre et Gilles exhibits. That should be fun. Then we have the Sports Ball on Sunday. I long for that event to be over. I'm waiting for some of my teammates (and I'm not trying to make you guys feel bad, I'm just venting) to step up and help me a little on the sports expo part. I've gotten two guys to agree to set up our table at the expo, but no one has come through with things to put on the table. I'm going to get a jersey and a ball. I wanted to sell t-shirts or raffle them, but the person with the shirts won't respond to my e-mails and the person with the raffle tickets won't either. Well, fuck it. This isn't my job.

Brian, since I know you read this, you now have my undying respect for managing to pull off the auction. I'd have either slashed my wrists or killed someone.

On to the important stuff, it's $25 for an open bar. I plan on getting good and sloppy. If I'm not singing Danny Boy and puking by midnight then the evening will have been a waste.