Last night we walked from Skip's apartment to the bar, and I'm pretty sure that the walk to and from, combined with the dancing, equaled 26 miles and that I should get marathon credit.

We were blistered, but responsible. Well...sort of responsible. As responsible as you can be at 2:30 a.m. walking back from a bar.

We went to Denny's at three a.m. and saw some girl with "Brat" written across the back of her pants lecturing some guy on "respect." I'm not really sure what her problem was, but there were cop cars in the lot shortly after. I think that the cops should just park at Denny's all night long, sort of like how the EMTs park at the mall all weekend.

Now I'm going to barbecue with my parents. I hope there's pie. I like pie.