post mcat

I almost met my Seth Cohen tonight at a bar of all places... luckily his striped polo shirt and my fine spun navy blue silk shell grazed as I headed for the bathroom, yellow frothy drink in hand. His eyes were first to catch mine, his dark curls grazed his brows as be leaned forward towards my ear. "What are you drinking?" Uhhh... well... "I believe it's an amaretto sour... and even if you asked, I couldn't tell you what's in it." he smiled. hmmm... nice teeth too. "I'd wager amaretto." I laughed, but it wasn't funny, not even witty really. "I prefer to stick to something I can keep track of..." He lifted a pint to reveal what must have been some sort of good old american beer. piss yellow. yuck. it was probably Bud Light. He quickly sucked up a sip from the glass, almost impatient to reveal his well-mannered worldliness: "I can't stand domestics, but I love Heineken, especially in such good company." We made small talk a few moments longer, but my bladder had the best of me. Liquour is both a blessing and a curse of the social life, and what it amounts to is usually an "almost" or a "never should have been." damn. It's a shame my mind can't fool me, because he looked so good in that light.

k