Dear Dude Named Chris,
I am sorry I sent you the text message "Baby D: Arenas played better tonight then your boy Biggie will tomorrow. Meow Meow." I know that made absolutely no sense, seeing as you are a total stranger who I sent a text message to. From here on, I'll make sure to double-check my address book. But thanks for writing back! Twice!
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We went to a Wizards game last night. Our seat location: sick. In between vague comments re: Washington's nonexistent defense, I ate cajun fries, sat next to a pleseantly drunk Jamaican man who loved himself some Etan Thomas and hated Ricky Davis, and texted my brother all about 2 dudes from my high school class sitting 20 feet away. Anyhoos. Yay, basketball.
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