Hey all you crazy cats and dogs out there. My name's Cantay and I will be giving you a guided tour of my inflamed anus, which is currently being raped.

No, but seriously... I shouldn't be here right now. Why? Because I have a paper due in approximately eleven hours. "What?" you say, "A paper due on a Saturday? That's mad!"

Mad, or just a little crazy? Or perhaps a little bit of both? I don't know, but I'm about 1/4 done. Which sucks. The paper itself will be all right, I'm sure; I just really don't want to have to finish it, especially since I've hit this nice wall-thing that's been telling me to do jack shit for the past forty-five minutes. Blegh.

It's a good paper, though. Really. I mean, it's pretty much explaining how OPEC works, and somehow it's sort of fun to do. I mean, what can I say? I've got a thing for actually applying the shaz you learn in class--especially when that class is Microeconomics. And let me tell you, I definitely don't want to let my professor down; not only is he quite cool, but I also feel like I'm obligated to him to do well because he actually made a homework problem based on my constant desire to use uzis to solve economic problems. And the fact that he has huge teeth helps. We're talking teeth that you'd have to go to the museum McDonald's to buy, because only there can you get humongosized stuff. In a cup.

Yeah, that's right. Eric gets it. And no one else. You know why? Cause no one else reads this blog... except for two or three people every now and again. And one of those two or three would be me.

Alas, I sort of brought it upon myself with this dearth of posts. But still!

All right, so now on to something that isn't focusing on what I am not doing and/or complaining about what I am doing. And that leaves one thing...

I had my first date ever tonight! ^.^

I took her by the arm and ran with her up 21st Street, then New Hampshire Avenue, then 20th Street, then R Street, and then another block up 18th. By the time we got there, I think she might have died from all the running and the two or three cars that just weren't able to stop in time, but I didn't care, cause we made it! 1801 18th Street NW, baby! Dragging her limp form along and coughing up blood with every step, I walked into the restaurant and bellowed, "We need a table for two, motherfuckers!"

The manager promptly grabbed two menus and led us to a lovely table with a great view of a sign that demanded that we clean up our pets' poop. I slipped him a five-note and smacked his ass as he walked off. He winked at me suggestively and left--I knew then that I had secured one kickass meal.

By then, she had woken up, as she was apparently still alive, though bleeding from several places. She complained about a sharp pain in her abdomen and she asked for a glass of water. I slapped her with all the force I could muster and told her to shut the fuck up before I urinated all over her bagillion dollar dress. And then I splashed her glass of water in her face--that taught her to be damn quiet.

When the waiter came to take our order, I told him to give me everything on the menu except for the calamari, which my date absolutely hated. I told him to give her that as a punishment for her insolence, and then I kicked her in the face for being such a whiny-ass. The waiter came back with our food five minutes later, and I proceeded to dig in, but not before hocking a loogey and decorating my date's calamari with it. When she complained that she wasn't hungry because she could see her spleen, I overturned the table and punched her right in her spleen so it would go back in and she wouldn't have any stupid-ass excuse not to eat. She cried through the whole meal, but hell if she didn't eat that calamari good!

When the meal was done, our waiter came over and told us that the manager would let us have dessert on the house. I was so delighted that I apologized to my date for spitting on her calamari and asked her what she wanted. When she said she would like the fruit cup, which had raspberries (to which I am allergic), I slapped that ignorant, selfish wench and told her to shut the fuck up. I then ordered the cappucino flan and spit on it when it came so that my date wouldn't want any.

I paid for the meal with a gift-certificate that my aunt gave me to a restaurant with a name somewhat similar to the one we were at, and left before the waiter could even check the check. My date complained up until we got back to O Street that we did a bad thing. At O Street, I stuck my hand down her throat and removed her voicebox so that she would stop. When we got back to the dorm, I left her off at her room and had hot sex with the manager of the restaurant, who followed me home.

::Clears throat:: Some parts of the events above are loosely based on actual events. But anyways, yeah. I had a lot of fun. And she kicks ass.

So yeah... I think I'd better get to that paper. Cheers folks, and hasta la byebye!