Her lips are soft

What a tight schedule today. I went to guitar practice at 12:30PM, which was rescheduled from yesterday. Vahik saw I was burned out from the eight-page Paco de Pena song. We went over some old stuf before finally settling on The Chantays' Pipeline.

Then it was time for Top Rocking. Always the highlight of my week. Afterward, sweaty girls would walk by us as they greeted Eric.

ERIC: All these girls are walking by like, "I'm so wet." Is that an invitation? [Kneels forward, teasing thrusting action.]

Then I saw that chick Jojo. It was time for coffee at the lounge. I reacquainted myself with her.

JOJO: How old are you?
RYAN: (Pause.) [Censored.]
JOJO: ... Are you lying?
RYAN: No.

She mentioned I could pass for nineteen years old. ("That's going on the resume!") Anyway, she's from Massachusetts. She had a hard time believing I was born and raised here. She was probably just doped up from exhaustion induced by her dancing, but she said I was "so funny," had a "genuine spirit," and eventually called me "the coolest guy." After admitting I enjoyed Ballet, but had no idea how to tie my hair into a ball, she thought my long hair was cool. As I was leaving, she offered to hug and kissed me on the cheek, saying, "Bye, love." Her lips are soft.

At the mall, I got more free samples from Hickory Farms. Then I sampled every tea at Teavana. The chick who looked more jackoffable as a blond before dying her hair dark brown - but is still slowly starting to grow on me - was working at Waba Teriyaki Grill. The Adele look-alike was working at the iPlay & Talk vendor booth. She's renewed in the database. I was procrastinating going to the Birthday party of Dave, the teacher (not to be confused with the rockstar or the bartending classmate), when I was heading toward the stairwell in the parking lot and I saw an old friend - a guy named Chris (albeit the millionth "Chris" I've met) who used to work at Hot Topic during the Holiday season last year and whom I added on Facebook so I could look at his cute coworkers' pages. I'll refer to him as CB from now on to avoid confusion. He was carrying his dog.

RYAN: What's the doggy's name?
CB: Benji.
RYAN: Did you name it after you?
CB: Yeah. Why not? It's like my kid.

I finally made my way to Dave's Birthday "party" - or, rather, a total of a few people showing up out of pity. Most of them were his high school students twelve or fourteen years ago. The bartender and this cholo looking dude played probably the best Pool I've seen live. I drank an Adios Motherfucker and Long Island Iced Tea.

BARTENDER: (Referring to Long Island Iced Tea) Is it strong?
RYAN: Yeah, it's good.
BARTENDER: No, it's not! I saw your face! [Imitating what he thought was my disapproving face.]

It actually was strong. I was merely just acclimating to the new taste as I don't remember when was the last time I tried a Long Island Iced Tea. He later gave me an extra cup of Long Island Iced Tea without asking for one.

DAVE: I guess you're his homie now.

Dinner was chicken, meatballs, bread, macaroni salad, potato salad, salad, and a cake of cupcakes shaped into a Christmas tree.

DAVE: I can tell your buzzed.

Oh yeah, there was this one chick who stayed briefly - a thirty-something-year-old with short, bottle-blond hair whose nipples left an imprint on her shirt. She wasn't wearing a bra. She's in my database.