It was a slow weekend this weekend. Friday night Nick Burnett got suspended for screwing around at work. He had to come back into town to pick us up and he brought his partially retarded girlfriend (seriously) with him. We went to Walmart and some people I knew saw me. I pretended not to hear them so they would think I was someone else but they didn't buy it.
          I think just being in their trailor was enough to get sick. Its so trashed. Like as trashed as my apartment in Sheldon was when I was drunk all the time and never cleaned. Its funny because nowadays I can't stand the mess. Thier social worker taped cleaning charts to the fridge but they don't follow it. These are the only white people I see on a daily basis. No wonder I'm so racist towards gringos.
          Saturday I watched my parents hyper little dog. Then I went home and brought Paige, Jess, and Justin over to play a game of Life. I never realized how much that game sucks before. The winner is the one that collects the most money before they die. That's a kid's game. What's it supposed to teach them?
          Sunday I did nothing until I woke up. Then I called Honest and we went ice skating. I've been wanting to go again for a while. I did way better than last time.  She did pretty well for it being her first time. She did better than me even. She didn't fall once but she clung to the side rail the whole time. After that we went to Hu Hot. It was pretty kick ass. I whistled at a waiter for change for a $20 and he started hitting on me right in front of her. That was something completely else. Flattering though. Then we went to LeMars and took around the pit with her daughter and I played a few songs. Her daughter wanted a hug before she left. It was cute.
          Then last night I had a long debate with Andy about anything and everything. His ideas are so different from mine and he is so sure of them. He's put a lot of thought into everything and he can justify all of his corrupt contentions very articulately. It's was a fun and disturbing conversation. He claims that I am wrong about everything because of my brain injury and I say he's wrong about everything because he under a continuous influence of whatever various powerful anti-psychotics or anti-depresants that he can minipulate his doctors into prescribing him. Not too mention booze and pot or whatever else comes into town.
          I still think I'm right.