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Drewey's birthday is, as we ALL know, October 5th, and Sven, being the genius that he is, decided to host an early Birthday Palooza for Drewey. We watched Sahara. Or, rather, they did. I mostly studied and by the time I was done studying I tried to follow the movie and got kinda bored trying to figure out what the heck was going on. I don't agree morally, ethically, or politically, with the Movie Talkers movement, wherein followers of the aforesaid talk constantly while watching movies and ask inane questions. I especially can't stand it when the movie is new to everyone in the room and there is one person in the room who is asking about the plotline and asking who this person is an what that person does for a dayjob, and let me tell you, Person Who Knows Just About As Much As We Do, we know just about as much as you do. So you might as well not ask us.
Anyways. That was a bit tangental. My point really is that I didn't want any appearances of alliance with this movement and so I didn't try to get the facts out of the boys by asking a million questions. So I kinda didn't get the second half of the movie as much as I'm sure I was supposed to.
So besides the movie, Sven brought lemon cake (lemony goodness) and delicious orange and cream sherbert, and Chaz and I bought taco fixings. We had about a million tacos each and ate sizeable bowls of sherbert and some even ate cake too. I was feeling pretty proud of myself for not being too much fo a piggy and not eating a giant slice of cake or getting seconds on my gigantic bowl of sherbert, but then I looked aorund my seat and saw the THREE empty cans of Vanilla Coke lying there, mocking me. How I drank three cans without exploding, I've no idea, but I think it has something to do with the fact that I've been exceedingly good at not drinking any tonic for the last four or five months. I really have. I've had a couple of glasses of Coke at parties and stuff, and I definitely drink my IBC on palooza nights, but other than strictly party settings, I haven't touched caffiene tonics at all, and I've only had about four cups of coffee since then. At first I missed it dreadfully, back when I was undergoing extensive and strenuous detox from all manner of fun foods while on INH for my probably-wasn't-tuberculosis-but-I-missed-olives-so-much-I-almost-wished-it-was period. But after all that, caffiene was no longer necessary really. Now that it's so rare that I drink it, if I ever am having an awful day at school and I really, really need a pick-me-up, if I grab myself a coffee, it's like being on speed. I culture petri dishes like a maniac, my hands shaking and pupils dilated. My professor told me I should probably get my blood sugar tested because I was shaking while innoculating loops of Escherichia Coli into delicious broth media, but I told her it was because I had coffe. She looked at me like I was the biggest weenie in the world. Good times, good times.
So. Recap. Cake, Icecream, Vanilla Coke, Sahara, and...
Well. Andrew also got those little pressurized air capsules you use for cleaning/dusting out your compy. He used it to carbonate his Coke to a froth such as is not possibly scientifically feasible to the human brain. The bubbles were a thing of awe.
And that's the last time, I promise you, that I will ever use the phrase, "The bubbles were a thing of awe." At least for a very, very long time.