My social life in Santa Cruz has slowed to a crawl, but good news: the pie season is upon us. No time like the present to hop a train up to Sactown and try some of mom's heavily sugared varietals. Now, dear reader, it should be noted that I did not indeed "hop" the train; that was just a figure of speech. I do not condone such flagrant disregard of train safety. I boarded the train cautiously and legally, and even volunteered to wear a life vest although Amtrak staff deemed this practice to be both very unnecessary and grossly unappealing. The woman sitting next to me asked the conductor if she could move, as the life vest, inflated to full capacity, was "encroaching on her space" and "should have purchased a ticket if it wanted its own seat." "Safety first," I said, sneering at her as she pouted. Some people have no class.
Once my tum was properly pie-filled, I decided to call up Rach and see what she's been doing. Apparently she's been doing a whole lotta nothing, but we did go to the local fake British bar, The Bonn Lair, wherein we participated in an impromptu "light rock" trivia contest. Drunken thirty-something age single men sure are impressed with our 80s hits knowledge, it seems. Today Rach gave me a much needed home haircut in her backyard while her parents looked on with suspicion and perhaps even anger. Now I'm ready to go back to S.C. and really razzle-dazzle those fellow math majors.
I know. I already regret using "razzle-dazzle."
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