Woah, way new posting page.  Anyway, I am ditching the idea that anybody cares that I post too often and just give you, as always, a quick update.  Since I last wrote, I did ask a girl out to dinner, but it was not one of my neighbors downstairs, but a Math grad student that I danced with at a bar downtown.  But that's part of the second story (like where I live, the second story... I'm a -Josh insert politically incorrect word here-).  Maybe it was a bad omen to begin with, but when I tried to open my door to let the two girls from downstairs into my apartment, my door was instead held closed from the outside.  The girls were screaming about a giant moth, and I laughed and said I would be fine, so I opened the door and found myself not far from the creature that hatched ina bird's nest but had a butterfly for a father.  This thing was bird-sized.  I didn't want to smash it because it would've made a giant mess to clean up, so I ventured as near as I could towards it and nudged it with my sandal.  It flew off.  So I took all the ingrediants downstairs and helped the two girls make tacos, although their cullinary incompetance far exceeded my own.  It took the both of them to drain the hamburger.  Kari asked us, after making her own hard-shelled taco, "How do you make a soft shell?"  How can you have lived in the United States for more than two consecutive months without making or at least understanding the workings of the enigmatic soft-shell taco?!  Of course I made a fool of myself for not understanding their use of the the initials IP for the misdemeanor crime of being in possession of alcohol in public, or as a minor, I can't tell which.  I'm sorry my friends aren't attempting to drink under age or in public.  So much for this being short.  Another thing struck me while I was cooking dinner with these two Nursing majors; Amanda shared an uncanny resemblance with my last girlfriend.  And that's about the time her boyfriend showed up.  I left not long after dinner, but the girls said they wanted to do it again, but this time they wanted to buy the food and do the cooking.  I said that would be fine, but I can't say that I'm as excited about it on this side of the last dinner.
So I was at my apartment, minding my own business, when I was absconded by a young lady, her sister and brother-in-law to hit dinner and then I was told bowling.  Dinner was at Applebee's, and bowling was exchanged for dancing at a bar downtown.  Erin is the young lady, and though I can't say I've clicked with her socially, she at least takes me to do things that I would not do otherwise.  So I walked into a country-western type bar with a bluegrass/swing band playing in my New Balance running shoes, shorts, my 2nd East T-shirt with a wonderful Bible verse on the back, and my Ron Jon's visor.  Just ask me if I felt out of place.  I danced with three different girls, one who was married, but I got a bit impetuous during my second dance with Tiffany and asked her to dinner.  Stupid stupid stupid.  Now I understand.  You wait until the third dance to ask a nice girl to dinner the next night.  Or not.  She didn't say no, but she had a sort of deer in the headlights look that only magnified the fact that I was dancing crummy and she was probably bored.  Tiffany is a Mathematics grad student here going into her second year, and I am still very interested in what she would have to say about grad school here in general.  I mean, she's a tall, terribly thin yet wonderfully cute girl, but I really was pretty interested in a good grad school conversation above anything else, but I get stupid when I get up in the morning, so it lasts through the day, and it manifests itself most poignantly when I'm dancing with a nice Christian girl that could have been four or five years older than me.  You'd think it strange that I just happened to meet a nice Christian girl at a bar, but she knew Erin, the girl who took me, who I met through the church here in town.  I might see her tomorrow night if I get up the courage to venture out again.  So I'm cursed to eternally scare off nice girls.  Who needs a boulder to roll up a hill forever when you can just walk up to a girl and make her suddenly remember that she was going camping the next day, even though when you asked her what she was doing she had said "nothing"?  I'm betting with our numbers we could storm Crown and take it back over, kinda like a coup, and then we'd never have to try to meet new people ever again.  I'll take Bjerkas's place.  You pick your own target to kick out.  We'll sychronize our watches and use the shock and awe method that got us so quickly into Iraq.  See, then we'll never leave.  Oooh.  Sorry Duerk.  I'm still voting for the man, but I still say we'd better get used to the idea that we're on the losing side.  Hope this gives you an idea of life right now at this very moment.  I promise to never again post twice in a row unless it's an emergency.  Ciao.