To Nick Doro's, then to the East Bank, then to a stressed out parking spot search, then on foot past the whole 400 Bar stretch and across 94 and to the frat district, where the Jewel of India sticks out like a cuticle-ripped, mealy thumb. Nick and I had recently discovered that we are exactly the same size and weight except that his head's bigger. So, because we are both relatively not strong, we thought it would be nice to start fighting more often to get better at fighting in case we ever really needed to fight. This hasn't happened yet, but the kid is toast when it does.

We had a real slow-paced conversation about "what makes relationships work." However slow-paced the concepts were moving, at least fifty thousand words were spoken in the matter of an hour. We were repeating ourselves and repeating each other, basically repeating everything we knew and everything we'd expect, and when we got down to the potatoes, "what makes a relationship work" is lack of confidence or love.

I got the Jewel's Special Dinner and Nick got the Vegetarian Thali. We got spiced hot tea. We were the best-dressed people in the restaurant. Helen tried to pick out some clothes for me when I was in the shower right before I got to Nick's. I didn't wear what Helen had picked out, to which Helen, obviously 'hurt,' told me I looked like a "pussy." I told her that might make Nick happy. Annie Tomasonni and the HBM both told me that I did not look like a "pussy."

The food and tea were served warm, and not hot, which is a little disappointing. The platters were more than could be finished by anyone who eats substantial amounts of rice with their Indian food. In the Special Dinner I got: "A mouthwatering house special—Tandoori Chicken, Lamb Rogan, Josh and Vegetable Korma. Served with Papadu, Chutney, Raita, rice and Naan bread." In the Vegetarian Thali Nick got "A taste adventure of three vegetable curries, served with soup, Chutney, Achar, Raita, Papadum, rice and Puri bread on an Indian steel dish." Nick didn't get the ironic pleasure of eating himself that I would get. Both dishes were in fact the adventures they claimed to be. Food is good.

I had a great time with Nick. I went to his house after and we talked about girls and listened to the Sugar Cubes. I made a deal with Helen that I would go home before I went to the bathroom, so that meant that if I had to go to the bathroom I had to run home. At 11 p.m. I booked for the toilets—home, and peed like a peeing person. I watched Amores Perros, which is a fantastic movie. I then went to sleep, and woke up at 10 a.m..

I called Marshall Mullenbach, and we went to play the first round of the racquetball tournament. For those of you that don't know Marshall, he is a great guy, who has been trying to break the Macalester interception record. He'd rather teach math than work real hard on his 40 with the chance of going to the pros. The whole deal is Marshall and I play racquetball twice a week, and we were paired in the first round. We play to 15 where the first to win two games wins. So in the first game I was up 12-8 and Marshall unleashed some startling aggression, and found himself with a satisfying 15-13 victory in game one. In game two, I was down 11-3, and then 14-5, whereby I got real angry and pulled off a dramatic 16-14 victory in game two. Game three was tight, our best game by far, I squeezed by the 'Mullenback' (what the football announcer sadly calls him) 15-11. Unfortunately I ran into Marshall at full speed on accident and hurt my left shoulder. I asked Marshall if that is what it felt like to get tackled in football, and he kind of chuckled, telling me that he gets hit at least ten times harder in football. Because I won such a clutch psychological game, Marshall got pissed and hit me with his racquet and broke my right arm.

Nevertheless, clad in as much red as ever, I went to play some afternoon intramural frisbee, where I made this clutch play. I got home, and took a spicy Indian-food shit, and sat down to write this. 8/10