Attack of the 35 Ton Popsicle...

Belly-dancing was awesome. It's like sex without that cumbersome penis. It's awkward at first, but then by the end, you're all about it.

It made me estactic.

I've got to work out a way to do this all the time. I need to talk to my boss to at least go once a week or maybe every other week.

And Sharon (my friend who I went with) and I went to Hooters for beer and food after (because where else would you go?) and girl talked. Because where other than Hooters would you girl talk?

It was nice. She's a really cool girl and you know how strapped I am for cool girls in the city.

I missed a call from my stepdad. His Father's Day card that I sent him (late) finally arrived and he sounded very emotional but thankful for it. I started getting misty eyed and was about to cry when it moved on to the next message.

It's from Amy (who I haven't spoken to in a while):

"I heard New York got attacked by a giant popsicle. So I was calling to see if you got attacked by the giant popsicle."

If you don't know what she's talking about, here you go. It's for real.

And it made me laugh my ass off.

I'm happy. Let's see how long this lasts.