last night was one to remember. (aside from the 2.5 litre screwdriver.)
i traded my book ‘fever pitch’ for ‘the god delusion.’ i read the 2 forwards, it should be a good read. i really liked how the author repetedly stayed that there are no such thing as christen children, or muslim children. only children of christen or muslim parents. he stated that one of his goals in writing the book was to make it just as taboo to say a child is chistian as feminist made it taboo to call them sugar at work.
THEN i found the book of mormon. i have been really interested in reading it for some time. at one point i owned a copy, but i have no idea what happened to it. that is not important. i read the begining of it. so far so good. joseph smith, what a guy. i really like the part about finding gold plates, enough of them to contain enough words to fill a 600 page book. and he couldn’t show them to anyone. that was the rule of moroni, the son of mormon. then he was told to show it to 11 people, and they wrote a blurb about how they saw it. that is all the proof i need, they must be real. he also translated them into english without knowing the language that they had been written in.
and there was a toga party. drinking in the hostel is expensive, so did a little pre-drinking. i purchased a 26 of vodka and 1 litre orange juice. -i just got a free bowl of asperigus soup.- mixed the oj and vodka in a 2.5 litre water bottle, topped off with water, and headed out. i was also really generous, i did not want to drink it all my self. i shared it with the utah girls (the understand the book of mormon.) at least 2 of the 5 girls are hair stylist. i used to hate that stylist personality. now it was quite refreshing. the only thing that was missing was ‘guitar hero’.
we all went to a club, i think it was called caos. it reminds me why i hate clubing so much. even when i am drunk enough to dance it gets boring after 5 minutes. the music usually sucks, ymca exempt.

i do not know what time i left the club. everyone was heading off to another place, i was done with clubs. you just can not talk. on my drunken way home, still in a toga, i ran met some pushy peruvians. they really wanted me to join them for a beer. well, as they would same come for a beer, just one, two. it was easier to speak spanish in that state of mind. i stopped thinking and just spoke. i wasn’t worried about pronounciation or conjugation or structure. i made it home and fell fast asleep.