Wocka Wocka Wocka

I'm in love with Fozzy. He's soooo damned small, it's too cute. Since I brought him home friday I have seen him lay down twice, both times for less than a minute. He's either sleeping when I am away or he's not really a kitten kitten bo bitten, but is actually a robot in a fur suit. I'll keep you posted.

So last night after work Craig and I met up with Devorah and her friends for a drink at the Bel. Mmmm, Bel-alicious. I'm afraid Devorah's friends weren't much into the whole college bar thing, but it was fun anyway. As Craig was driving me back to my car, Jason called and wanted to hang out, so off I went. Being that it was Santa Rosa, our options were as follows: 1.) back to the Bel, consume more alcohol and thereby remove driving as an option, or 2.) Carrows. *sigh* It was prom night and so there were approximately 18,000 eleventeen year olds in formal attire. *rolls eyes* While there I observed at least two people I know, but I didn't actually say hi to either. Icky, trashy, yuck-o Shyla was there with her even ickier, trashier, and yuck-o-ier (doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, does it?) husband. Eww. This will mean nothing to anyone but Rachel, I know. But eww, Rachel, ick, huh? Come to think of it the other person I saw won't be familiar to anyone but Rachel, as well. Logan! He was there with a group of people that I imagined were friends from rehab. He looks good! Still thin but not gaunt, you know? Hope he's doing okay. He looked as though he was (for the most part) not thrilled to death with the people he was spending his evening with, but was trying desperately to stay out of trouble and these people were security to him. Poor baby. I'll always remember him at what? 13? Such a sweety. *Sigh* Those years seem like forever ago. I was thinking about Gene today and how what happened affected us all. The world's not the same without him.

music: Wish You Were Here, Pink Floyd