Hmmm...apparently I wax poetic when I'm drunk.

So Travers's friend Simon had some people over last night for beer pong, and we weren't going to stay long, I was only going to play one round, but Sanna showed up and offered to drive me home and it takes very little egging on to convince me that I should stay and drink more. So several rounds of beer pong and one of flip cup later (it's probably a good thing that I didn't play these games as an undergrad, as the small latent talent I've discovered that I have for them probably would have spelled academic disaster back then) and it's a damn good thing I had a DD. Drinking cheap beer always makes me feel like crap in the morning, but fortunately I was coherent enough to slug back a reasonable quantity of water last night while drunk dialing Carrie. Simon is an English student, so I spent a portion of the night dragging Song of Solomon*, Edward Abbey, Tristam Shandy, and Tom Jones off his shelves and convincing him to have a very drunken conversation about books, so naturally as soon as I got home I thought of Carrie and promptly called and woke her up at 3 am. Luckily my dearest friends are pretty good about humoring the drunk dial, and I've been told that I'm not the most annoying drunk ever, so these things work in my favor.

Earlier yesterday Anna and I finally signed our lease, so it's all official and we even have a set of keys and I headed over there yesterday to measure the rooms because I'm a big dork like that and sometime this weekend I'll draft schematics of each room and start figuring out where the furniture should go.

I'm hopeful that this place will be like Belmar Estates - a site of much revelry. As such, it needs to be aptly named. Any suggestions?

*As I inevitably do when drunk and near Song of Solomon, I insisted on quoting my favorite analogy ever:
"She was the third beer. Not the first one, which the throat receives with almost tearful gratitude; nor the second, that confirms and extends the pleasure of the first. But the third, the one you drink because it's there, because it can't hurt, and because what difference does it make?"
It's perhaps the worst way I can think of to describe a person, and yet I know exactly what he means.