I'm at Jory's house right now. Lorina and Steve are in the other room, and Jory and Sarah are here with me in the kitchen.
Moving on to my incredible day (I think these people are ruining my creative vibe. I feel no funny-ness in blogland at the moment). After an insane three hours with Alex's family (including Steve's girlfriend Kathy) at the two-man luge run for the Olympics, I came home and promptly wanted to fall asleep.
But apparently some divine creature had other plans. Prepubescent boy slut called. I haven't seen him in ages. So, off we go to see the ice sculpting contest in Provo. (My day has been saturated with Olympian venues.)
And we ended up at Osaka, the quiet-as-a-library Japanese restaurant. It is possibly the most tranquil place I've set foot in all day, and I desecrated its sanctuary by bellowing at Jory that he was a hooker the minute we walked in the door. We all then proceeded to take pictures of each other acting like idiots, drinking miso soup, and laughing until we almost passed out. (There are some great pictures of Jory and Steve clicking their heels together on the street.)
Jory just fell off the counter. I'm laughing so hard on the inside that it hurts my face.
I've had a wonderful day... but the whole day I've been wanting Alex here. I know, I'm a vapid girl who should be shot, but being around couple-ey people all day has made me miss his face. I don't want to wax terribly sentimental. I guess I'll just go write in my book when I get home.
Happy Olympics!