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February 11, 2011

I think I would thoroughly enjoy going to the pub more with Dave if he quit smoking. I hate being left alone for significant periods of time. I’m not needy, I wouldn’t mind if so much if it were a restuarant, but its not. Anyways. So much for me not drinking. The last drink I had was on NYE. Didn’t get drunk, but felt ill. Tonight I’m okay. I’m 6 drinks (scratch that, 7) in and feeling okay. My head is feeling like warm fuzzy socks and I wish I could quote Zuckerberg and be like “I was drunk, and angry, and blogging” but I can’t. I’m “drunk, and content, and blogging”. And this entry is taking me a long time. I’m only writing when Dave leaves for a smoke (boo, cancer sucks!). For the first time I don’t really know what to write about. My hot wings were hot. Dave’s pizza was probably the worst pizza I’ve ever had (ever, ever) the bottom of the crust was just covered in flour and it was super doughy. Its like, how can you fuck up a pizza? Its dough, topping and an oven. They single handenly fucked it up. We sent it back, and round two wasn’t any better. I bet I could probably write an entire blog entry about what makes a good pizza, but I’ll save that one for another day.

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