I do this to myself.

I have a guess on why I'm not getting any better:
I don't fucking stay home and relax.

Chase told me yesterday... and instead of listening... I got up and hung out in the damn cold.

Bad, bad, BAAAAAAAAD AnoMALIE!

Well, I did hang out while there was sunshine... but I was in a dark movie theater laughing out loud to Juno.
Good stuff, that movie (although I got into a verbal altercation with a little dimwit friend of Little Sister's who posted a bulletin about how much Juno sucked and how people shouldn't go see it. It still angers me to think of the little imbecile).

After that, I hung out with AnoMALIE05, her boyfriend, her sister, my siblings, and a cousin (who has all of a sudden turned into a sumo jerk) at the newest outdoor mall that's about 5 minutes away from my house (when traffic isn't killer).
I had never been to California Pizza Kitchen, and they all made a huge deal about that place being so awesome and how much of an abomination it is that I haven't been (now seriously... you want me, of all people, to get addicted to that shit?)... so we went.

There, not only did I have some of that pizza for the first time... but I also had chicken tandoori for the first time (the only Indian food I've ever had is Naan bread? And I that stuff was gooood!). I ordered a Mango Tandoori Chicken Pizza.
Everyone at the table was like:
"Dude... you fucked up by ordering that shit..."
"That doesn't sound good at all."
"Mango... on a pizza?"
"What the fuck is Tandoori?!"

Of course, being the only college graduate there (I'm totally being a jackass on purpose. I'm not this conceited... yet), I did it to school these plebes I call "friends and family."
What the fuck do they know about a good palate? Ordering shit like "Five cheeses and tomato... with smoked hickory bacon" or "The works." Pshhhh. That's for regular, blue collar people (AGAIN! I'm being a jackass on purpose!) who call up Pizza Hut, after working their nine to five, and along with that, order a six-pack of Pepsi (I ordered Kiwi Fresh Lemonade. Take that, plebes!).
I have taste, motherfuckers! (In all reality, I was just curious about tandoori chicken because a good friend of mine is addicted to the stuff. I wanted to see what the fuss was about... and plus, if I was going to pay 13 dollars for a personal-sized pizza, I might as well make it an exotic-ass pizza... not some... sausage and olives I can get at the Sidewalk Cafe for 5 bucks)

We all got our pizza, and of course, mine was the most fantastic of all. It was spicy but sweet at the same time... best fucking taste ever. Ever. And I have a slight suspicion my "pizza dough" was actually naan... mmmmmmm. And as for presentation, mine was the hottest (not literally... although, yeah, it took that prize as well) looking one there.

Anyway, the important thing about this is that before getting a table, we had to wait for 40 minutes... because supposedly we had "a big party," with only 7 people.
I'm pretty sure the 30 minutes we waited outside fucked me up real nice.

After the dinner... we went to AnoMALIE05's boyfriend's house-- where I befriended the chubbiest, fluffiest, smallest chihuahua that looked more like a chinchilla-- where I watched some pretty hot Filipinos play Rock Band first (I want that game so bad now), and then Fight Night (where the youngest boy playing got licked all over the front of his face as a diversion tactic because the damn 9-year-old kept kicking everyone's ass).
This all just made me realize:
Shit, dude, I love watching guys play video games... what the hell is wrong with me?

Now, I'm home... kind of sore in the joints... nose still running... eye not-so-watery... and my voice Phoebe-From-"Friends"-Singing-"Smelly Cat"-Sexy.
Niiice.