Howe Silly.

Andrew and I went on a hayride on Friday night. It led us to a barnyard of bad dreams. It was very scary. Ah ah ah ah... one. I clung to him like a little child when a twenty-five-year-old bum came flying at me out of the corn with a chainsaw. Some might say that I was being silly, I say, see what you do when someone comes at you with a chainsaw.
Andrew really didn't want to go, but he eventually relented after I begged. That was nice of him, I guess. In turn, he gave me his really, bad, awful cold and now my nose is all stubbed up and my throat is burning like hot. Haaaowt.

I left work early last night because of the lack of work and my new found cold. Mike and I devised a plan of escape through lying about "car troubles" at lunch. We sneakily, while hypothetically waiting for a towtruck, went home and slept. Aren't we clever? No, not really.

Anyway, that all brought me to today: Russ and Stacey's wedding. It was simple, but elegant. It wasn't overly warm like Andrew's cousin's, but it meant so much more to see my big brother Russ get hitched. I cried for him. That was strange.
He of course, couldn't get through the songs, which made his bride cry, which made everyone cry, which really just made the wedding what weddings are: reasons for women to cry. It was still nice though.
Randomly enough, Bradford Howe from, oh my god, Much Music attended, as he is close friends to Russell. I didn't talk to him much, but my sister seemed to think that he liked me best. And of course, she said that revelation in a very, "why the fuck does he like you more than me," way.
It's a little weird, people usually don't like me more than stinky. I guess being a wallflower pays off from time to time.

I wish I could find it in me to write a proper post for this day, but my leaking nose has overtaken my soul and mind and it just cannot be forced.