let's be honest: this is (mostly) because I wrote down my URL on coasters and want to throw the Grizzle kids a bone. but MFA kids, I love you too.

Aside from the shitheads that were my last table of the night, last night was exactly what I needed. A bunch of us ended up at a boy house, the sort with a beer pong table in lieu of a real table, and three mountain bikes propped against the walls, and some of the light bulbs were green, and there was a deer skull. I drank wine from a scotch tumbler, until I switched to beer that I found, open and abandoned, on the beer pong table. Country music was playing, I actually scored a couple of decent shots against our mid cook, and there was much talk of $80 UW slippers until 4:45 am, at which point I said my farewells and went home.

Only until I arrived home did I realize that nobody once during the evening had said the words thesis, development, tone, or writing. And for that I was extremely grateful.

I don't need eighty of these nights, but it's nice to know they still exist. I feel that about March, I'm going to need them.