The week's discoveries:
Eight hours of sitting on one's arse can be incredibly tiring. Tuesday night I was planning to go to Swing Central but ended up collapsing for a "short nap" that ended up taking an hour and a half. Oh how many times Safeway's 24-hourness has saved my butt... letting us get stuff for Kelsey's birthday party.
Keg + refrigerator = keggerator. Yes, I saw this product of Stanford engineering grad students ingenuity at a party elsewhere in Rains: a big fridge that looked perfectly ordinary, save for the tap sticking out the side.
Leads dancing hustle are great "big pillars of testosterone". This came after this great conversation between the hustle instructor and one of the dancers:
Instructor: Look at that picture up there. [everyone looks at the picture] The lady is the picture. The man is the frame.
Kat: Wait, where's the lady? [the painting contains no women]
Instructor: You're missing the point.
A big complex menu can serve as a diversion for a sneak attack visible in broad daylight through big floor-to-ceiling windows, like those in the Beckman cafe where we still somehow managed to surprise Kelsey for her birthday.
Every woman Dave knows "is a potential mate". Whether they know it or not. Whether they want to be considered a potential mate or not. Dave is apparently also the self-proclaimed least gay man alive.
Playing Mafia with three loud opinionated people is going to give you a headache and take a loooong time.
In the Rains laundry room, if you have no quarters, no one can hear you curse. I had never come to appreciate working change machines or my flatmates' stashes of quarters until today.
There is such a thing as cream sherry, apparently. And it makes some fine shrimp pasta sauce.
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