(no subject)

My brother's dating a Wellesley girl. At the risk of making fun of Mudd's humble neighbors to the south, as far as I can tell that's the MIT equivalent of dating a Scrippsie. She looks the part, too; ever inseparable from her designer jeans and whatnot. Not that I care, she's done nothing to bug me.

Except call my brother a drunk. I'll believe that either when I see it or he shares.

I must be ridiculously out of shape. I barely skated for ten minutes before being out of breath and verging on dehydration, and snow is precious little remedy for the latter. Er, on that note, I should get a glass of water. What I should actually do is get lunch, but Brady and Allie are hanging out upstairs, and I feel like avoiding the awkward moments as long as I can.

Sometimes, I feel like my life is a long string of awkward moments. I wish I were competent at conversation.

To note: This wa written before lunch, and posted after.

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