So, to a regular reader, it would appear that I have failed to offer a Jounral entry for the last three days. Well...it's only been two, technically, since one doesn't appear here. When I cover the events that led to my lapse, the reader will be forced to sympathize.

Friday was a good day, but I knew that fourth period was going to ruin it for me, especially since I didn't have headphones to drown out the anal nazi student-teacher. I mean it, she is the epitomy of nazis. She is always pissy, strict...she even looks like a nazi woman, what with the long blonde hair and athletic figure. I just think one of these days she's going to literally poop a brick and turn into a nice person. Anyway...I've sluffed this class before and gotten away with it, despite the also nazi-like attendance policy, but this was the mother of all sluffs. This was awesome! The ACTUAL teacher (who is a nice person, but she's really stupid) asked me if I had made the final changes on the Secret Garden poster. I had, but I hadn't brought it to school yet. I told her that I had my car and that I could go get it, but that would be in violation of not only attendance policy but of state law. "What?" she replied. "You have to go to the bathroom? Miss Erin, Josh has to go to the bathroom for me"

So I went home, checked my email, kicked back, got my poster, and showed up with about twenties minutes left in class. We brought the poster down to Ms. Broberg, she approved it (which I had already done) and Mrs. Thomas burned the file onto CD for her. I showed up in class just long enough to sit down before the bell rang. Freedom kicks the booty.

Unkle Sam and I just tried to kill the time until we were supposed to go to the gas station, and anticipation won through and we high-tailed it up there about a half hour or forty-five minutes early, drinking dews and practicing accents. Unks got some food at Iceberg but I wasn't feeling well so just sat and waited. After a few minutes I squeeled as my pants began vibrating awkwardly. Loik da coleen callin on me, oi'm never gettin' used to dat goin off. "We're across the street at the maverick! Hurry over!"

We had a momentary panic while looking for Katie's present, but we made it over, they pointed out the car, and we followed them up to Salt Lake just as the snow began to poor, and poor it did. Once we got the address, we had no problems finding the place, the problem was trying to direct Katie to where we were. We did that, thanks to Rio Gran e (pronounced "Rio Granny" until they get their sign fixed), but then they parked three quarters of a mile away. And once we were underground, I got dissoriented and by the time we resurfaced my dislexia had me completely, totally, and 100% inverted, which almost never happens. So I took them another two and a half miles the wrong direction before I found the capital building, which I knew to be north of us, and realized my mistake. I left my money, jacket, and one of my weapons in the car, and nobody else were any better equipped, making us virtually naked in twenty-degree wheather, with a fierce wind chill and we were getting wetter by the second. Even I was cold, though I tried not to show it. You know if I'm cold, it's cold. It's one thing for Hannah or Taylor to be cold, but I was getting cold towards the end.

The good news (and this was my greatest anxiety) is that we didn't miss any of Flogging Molly, just all the warm-up bands. The last song they played before Flogging Molly took the stage was Teenage Wasteland, and as much as I hate to admit it, I like that song even better than any of Flogging Molly's stuff.

We didn't mosh much, which was good, because everybody in the mosh pit was either drinking, high, or getting a contact buzz from everyone around them who were. People in the balcony were throwing their beer; it was a nightmare. Our job as "bouncers" was really just to keep an eye on the girls and make sure that no leather-clad, aluminum-nippled punker tried to mess with them. If any one of them were to, I would lay his ass out. I know Unkle Sam may not be a fighter, but that's not something I was going to put up with. I tried to direct traffic to keep them from getting shoved, but I was also doing a little subtle shoving back of my own. They probably would have been perfectly fine without us, but I'm sure it makes a difference just having us there. Even if we didn't look much like dates, it still would have come across that these girls weren't exactly looking for trouble, which is the most important message to send anyway.

The music ruled, and I LOVE THOSE GIRLS! That was SO MUCH FUN I can't even express it! It was great up until my stomach started acting up. I think the pot smoke agitated my ass cancer, because it started hurting pretty bad. But I was still intent on having fun and I did. They wrapped up the concert and we went back into the snow.

Luckily, I wasn't navigating, because I was having difficulty concentrating on anything but my now screaming innards. By the time we got to the garage, I was completely crippled in agony. But one thing about this occasion differed from my usual ass cancer attacks: someone was actually WITH ME when it happened, whcih does wonders. The best part was having Hannah there clutching me whenever I had a "contraction" (for those of you who don't know, nobody knows what's wrong with me so I call it "chronic ass cancer", for lack of a better name, and the pain is appearantly very similar to labor pains, even consistent with the length and duration of contractions). It made a HUGE difference having Hannah there, though I wish I was there alone with her, because I had to try not to cry in front of her friends. Nevertheless, leaning against the wall, clutching my stomach, gritting my teeth in pain, I could feel, through the agony, the warm, soft, but firm grip on my arm, Hannah's hair leaning into my shoulder affectionately. It may have been cold, inverted, and miserable, but if I had to endure that paralizing strain, I can think of no place I'd have rather been then there, with her at my side.

Thanum Andul, now I am crying.

We finnaly found Katie's car and she shuttled us over to where we parked. By this time my stomach had mostly settled down, though it was still quite tender. I reminded Katie about a few tips for cold-wheather, night-time driving that I thought were common knowlege, but with as furious as she and the rest of them were thanking me for 'em, maybe they weren't. Once we got out of downtown the conditions improved and I relaxed a lot, but from the phone call that I got from Hannah, it sounded like poor Katie hadn't relaxed the whole drive. Two lessons can be learned from this: 1. Whenever possible, take only one vehicle. 2. Whenever possible, take Dora.

Going home, Taylor and I had a bonding opportunity with Shawna, which I've been wanting for a while now. She's such a cute kid! And only just now did I realize that her voice reminded me of Destiny. We joked, invented Japenglish proverbs and idioms, drank soda and ate doughnuts, all the while I was trying not to speak Irish. I still don't think I've managed to quite shed the accent. I'm still stressing my "R's" way too much. And school isn't going to help either; we've still got to finish "Waking Ned Devine". Yay for random naked old men riding motorcycles through the Emerald Highlands!

The experience was amazing, altogether. As great as was the music, what made it awesome was the company. I've set things in motion to assure that another opportunity to hang out with these people arises in the near future. I'm afraid that my verbousity fails me today, or else I'd have done a better job in reccording this event; after all, it's a memory I don't want to ever forget.