2003-08-14 - 11:12 p.m.
Okay. So my last entry was something less than usual quiddle-ness. But read it anyway and tell me what you think. I hate having a best friend who drives me so crazy.
Tonight I did such stupid things I am embarssed to tell them. It involved spit and a guy in a moose costume. Yeahhhh. So we went to a baseball game, minor league, duh. We sat in our little luxury box, me and Tweedledee and Tweedledum, with all these company executives...and um...we got a little stir-crazy so we decided to go get cotton candy. Okay. FIRST we see the extremely pathetic moose in the hallway. The moose makes little "OH!" motion with hand to mouth, due to the extreme beauty and hott-ness of the approaching trio. We can't ignore him, the hallway is tiny. We can't turn around and run, we are much too dignified. (well not me but that comes later) So we continue to walk foward...and it might have all been fine except that quiddle decides to act like a six-year-old (but that was predicable, no?) And makes "OH!" motion with hand at the rather goofy looking moose man with companion holding permanent autographing marker. Mhhmm. This was stupid enough, but upon approaching, quiddle says, "Hey, can I get a high-five from a moose?" At which point it is discovered that whoever is in the suit is absolutely for certain a sweaty, pathetic teenage boy, whereupon quiddle puts one hand up for high-five, dirty little moose puts two hands out as though expecting a hug or double-boob grab (hence the sweaty boy assumption), and quiddle then goes for a double high five (sometimes known in dorky circles as a "high ten" yyeahhh i kknnoowww) and then proceeds to run to the elevator, stupified by her absolute moronic behavior...and while discussing this loudly and at great length in the elevator, proceeds to spray a rather widely felt spit shower at T&T. They scream and giggle and overall, quiddle feels quite stupid. THEN...quiddle gets distracted by fried dough, buys it instead of cotton candy...goes back up elevator only to discover to her dismay and chagrin that the moose is waiting to get in at the top floor. Quiddle then compounds the situation by putting head down, saying things under breath and ignoring moose. goodness. Now the terrible thought comes that it may be someone quiddle knows in the furry costume, soon replaced by the realization that nothing short of doing a butt dance complete with white girl attempted rap could be more embarassing than being the guy who dresses up as a moose at the minor league game. Enough said.
Later, the moose blows kisses to quiddle from on the field. Quiddle stabs herself with a plastic fork, then proceeds to drop it down onto the next tier, where someone, a rather LARGE someone looks up with a murderous face after said fork pokes his rather massive harley-davidson hat wearing head and quiddle hides behind the fridge. My absolute sexiness and charm will never cease to amaze people.
It's funny, when people meet me, they ask where I go to college. After bein around me for a while, they ask me if I'm sure I'm in high school. heh. Not really, I'm not generally stupid, I just have my moments where it's like my little dorky demon takes over and I can't control what happens! It's like...compulsize dorkiness! AHHH!!!
Goodnight diaryland, don't spit on people in elevators, avoid fraternizing with anything dressed up in a fuzzy costume, and don't grow up to be a pomaded-hair man who kills bugs for a living and has been married 5 times. I love you much too dearly for this fate to befall you. Bye.
