In which we go out

Try listening to "Sympathy for the Devil" and focusing on the "whoo, whoo!" bits in the background, imagining that you are one of the people who have to sing them. It's actually making my throat and brain feel tired just thinking about it, like doing too many French pronunciation exercises involving the letter "r".

Then again, my brain might just be tired. I went to formal tonight not planning to make a night of it but rather to go home and get some work done on my essay once I'd eaten, and so far I've at least successfully accomplished the going home part. This is making me feel almost too mature. Although dinner was nice - they gave us profiteroles, which is the legendary formal dessert that you hardly ever get, although whispers of "profiteroles!" always circulate towards the end of the meal. We re-discovered that profiteroles are in fact just pastry shells full of cream, and that you can't have more than two without feeling sick. It's never good seeing legends up close.

Today was chiefly spent in dissecting last night's Blind Date, which in spite of what Hans suggests is a perfectly innocent event, and For Charity. Vicky's and Becky's dates did not work out brilliantly, but mine was surprisingly nice and a Very Good Date, which is quite a specific quality, I think. We even managed to get into Cindies without anyone getting punched. Once we were there, we barely knew what to do with ourselves and settled for mocking the Grease medley from the bar area. I got far too little sleep and barely managed to wake up and arrange lunch with Vicky before falling asleep again until said lunch. Becky and I ran into Bethmo, who told us that after he and his date had gotten amiably drunk in the Anchor she had decided to get back together with her ex-boyfriend. He took her to find him, and once they started making out he left quietly, rather pleased with his evening. The main effect of all this seeing new people seems to be to make you appreciate old people (old in acquaintance rather than age) more.