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Jul. 6th, 2004 @ 09:31 am Volleyball Goddess
Apparently, somehow a major skill I must've been harboring for some time remained hidden until yesterday. I am a Volleyball Goddess. To be more specific, a Pool Volleyball Serving Goddess. Caroline can verify. I was SO good that I was given a third of the bounty: my own can of potted meat. That's right -- I said potted meat. Who's Monday beats that?!?

To give some context, I had a pretty active weekend, for a change. Lots of sun, lots of water, resulting in lots of conflicting tan lines.

Friday was, in fact, my birthday, as my big sis pointed out in a comment. The day was a bit of a roller coaster of emotions, but ended well, w/ me going to a party a friend of Steven's had. Woke up with boys crashed out all around the room and grabbed a chili cheese burger as soon as we got up. In my opinion, that's not too shabby of a time.

Mike was in from out of town, as was his roomie, Shane, and a bunch of us went out on Saturday. Sunday, the boys and I went to Barton Springs Spillway, which is very close to a really beautiful oasis of soft grass and cool, silky water, but is exactly the opposite, replete w/ dripping dogs and hard cement ground. It was fun, though, and watching my boys hit on make-up-laden girls was entertainment enough.

For the first time in my life, I didn't see fireworks. I was napping, preparing myself for a long night. Star Seeds, a greasy all-night diner, filled our bellies and, again, my new roommate came in the next morning to find far too many people in my bedroom just waking up at 3 pm. I bet she thinks I'm a total hooch. Little does she know, I'm just a fan of slumber parties.

We shook the sleep off and headed to Caroline's pool, where we had a total blast. We had floaties. Mike had an insatiable appetite for flipping said floating, tossing us like rag dolls, and cannonballing our oily asses. Then, volleyball ensued. At one point I was referred to as "magic." Got a date for tonight, which I didn't want at all, but it was easier to say "sure" than, "I don't have a type, but you're not it." He's smarmy, but I'm a wuss. So, if anything happens to me tonight, a beefy guy named Darren who works at Dell is to blame. Unless I grow some balls in the meantime.