Tonight, I went out on sort of a pseudo-date with my married friend Taylor. It wasn't an actual date (like I said, she's married; and like my pictures says, I'm disgusting), but it might as well have been. We ate bad food at a Chinese buffet until we could barely stand. And lucky me, I got to experience the classic sitcom scenario of having my card declined. Apparently, instead of making you wash dishes, they just call the police now. That didn't happen, but I almost wish it would've, just because it would be a good story. Instead, I got money from an ATM and paid with cash. After dinner, we went to Barnes & Noble, where I bought two books for myself and a copy of one of my favorite books for her. During the ride home, I constantly tried to talk my friend into giving me sexual favors for taking her out to dinner and buying her a gift, but she totally wasn't having it. I guess oral sex is reserved for lobster dinner. And attractive guys who aren't me. The old "I'm married, Chris" excuse is getting old. If I were a dashing millionaire, she would be all over me. Sadly, I'm merely a sloppy and pathetic thousandaire. I think it's time for me to go to sleep with the pillow that smells like my tears.