Chat Roulette

Last night, we got on chat roulette around 10:00 p.m.; we didn't make it to bed until almost 4:00 a.m. I mean, we figured it would be at least an okay way to spend a Friday night. Last time we got on there, we met some pretty okay dudes, it was more entertaining than creepy, and we didn't see a single cock. So I guess lightning doesn't strike twice, because this time we got the worst that chat roulette has to offer. It was bad. But we obviously hung around because we have that much faith in humanity, and met some real nice boys ("huggy bear" and "babyface"). Talk about a small world, they live in Philly, and one of them went to my high school. Of course, we invited them to our party next week. They have no idea what they're getting themselves into, but they will.

And I got a new nickname, "Bubbles." Don't ask.

I spent seven hours downtown today, variously in different neighborhood cafes, doing research and homework. I had a lovely conversation with a Lebanese girl over my very exciting cultural immersion lunch. Also, my hatred for teenagers has been thoroughly reaffirmed. That aside, it turns out the Starbucks at 4th and South is a great place to "safe people watch", that is, do it so they can't see you. I love to people watch. I'll put on sunglasses so I can just stare at every detail and every nuance, and wonder what makes people tick. If you people watch with me, you can expect insensitive, stream-of-consciousness commentary.

On my way home, I stopped to see Jude in Old City. He's like a sitcom character, always at the same cafe, knows everyone in town, and has something to say about everything. On this particular occasion, he was sitting with two old European(?) men, talking about golf. As I make to sit down, a Duck bus rolls up - and at this point, you need to know about me, I hate the Ducks with a passion hotter than a thousand suns - and thirty college kids start blowing those goddamn quackers at us. Jude flipped them the shocker. I threw bread at them. The irony is almost certainly lost on those kids, since they started yelling and cheering, and sang a chorus as the bus pulled away. We could hear them for a few blocks further still. The old European men had a hearty chuckle, though. I can't say I could ask for a better experience than that.

And that was the most interesting part of my day. Dearest momma brought me the new laptop I'll be paying for all summer, and I'm pulling my hair out trying to get my iTunes library straight; my OCD prevents me from just saying, "fuck it." Also, it's been a nice opportunity to get reacquainted with old music I'd forgotten about. I continue to find ways to see good in the bad. I think I'm actually learning.