saints.

Last night, Rachel told me that Joan of Arc suffered from a genetic disorder that made her technically male. I am not sure why/how Rachel knows this, but I couldn't stop thinking about this idea in the shower this morning, so googling was required. True enough...it is speculated that St. Joan suffered from androgen insensitivity syndrome. I read about it on Wikipedia, but I still couldn't get wrap my mind around the gender implications of it all. Further research indicated that Joan has long been considered a hero to the transgendered community because she always wore men's clothing.

Anyway, last night Rachel and I bitched about what a blow to feminism this implication could be. Joan of Arc, the original feminist, a male?! Disheartening, perhaps.

Then Patrick (shockingly) bought a round of tequila shots for everyone. All heavy conversations were forgotten. The Aalto serves shots in miniature brandy snifters...fancy!

A plan was hatched wherein Patrick, Reyna, and I move in with his parents in Corvallis.

Bedtime is at 10 pm.

We will each have our own room! We are allowed to hang posters with that weird blue putty. No tacks are permitted!

No guests after 8 pm.

The three of us will acquire matching flannel pajamas.

There is a swimming pool. We will be so tan!

Loud music is forbidden!

Rent will be $100 each month.

We closed down the bar and then made the long walk home in the rain. This time we had the foresight to bring umbrellas. Brilliant! It was a long day that began at 9 am (Reyna and I are both early risers), breakfast at Jam with Mary and Cedar, and then an afternoon of cooking (vegetable soup and vegan carrot cake). Then we went downtown to catch Zach's night at the Tube (where we ran into such luminaries as "Barclay Boondoggle"). We planned to grab one drink at the Aalto and then have an early night. In the end, we went to bed at 4 am. The best intentions...