you will, you won't; you do, you don't

I'm finding it really hard to keep this thing up. Britt is threatening me though, so I will try again. Even though she is the only one who reads it. I should really call this blog "Dear Britt B.".
I went to Stampede on Friday night with Marion. It was kind of sad. I mean, it was really fun (although I spent way more money than I wanted to) but the little girls were all dressed like hookers. The drunk people also got more and more pathetic as the night went on. And the fireworks were unsatisfying. Oh, and I hate what they do to those animals. Stupid cowboys. Anyway, we took the train home in the wee hours of the morning and I stayed at her house (which was tiny and adorable).
I guess the worst thing about Stampede is the same thing that was bad about the NHL playoffs. People are so desperate to have some (any!) distraction in their lives so they don't have to think about what really matters. I'm all for having a good time; I'm really not that anal, really. But it's the extent that the whole city embraces the distraction.
In other news, I drank three pots of green tea and five glasses of water in one hour this afternoon. Then we went and played tennis and I thought I was going to pee my pants.