Brief update: Saturday night over at Katie's was a lot of fun. We spent most of it just talking instead of the million and one ideas we originally had. It was very girly and (shall I say it?) bonding and all that jazz. Katie is a cool cat.
Yesterday had "bad day" written all over it from the very beginning. I went to Sam's Club to get food and left my debit card in the car, which pissed off the cashier (I had a lot of food she had to rescan). Work was a complete bummer. I went to Giant's for more food that didn't need to be bought at Sam's Club and my debit card gave me more trouble.
After all that, I came home to chill with Dave, his girlfriend, and friends for a few hours and things were suddenly looking up. We played Halo 2, drank a bit, ate a lot and enjoyed ourselves mightily.
Of course, I fuck it all up.
Ryan and I were trying to beat each other up, like we usually do, and I go to kick him in the stomach and he moves in the wrong direction and a horrible, horrible impact takes place. Oh God, I wanted to shoot myself right there. He was in so much pain he just left, not even a look in my direction. I stayed in my room for the rest of the night.
I called Ryan later to apologize profusely and he didn't sound mad, but I feel like vomiting every time I think about what I did to him. Dave said that I shouldn't worry about it because it was an accident and probably was inevitable with how much horseplay goes on... even Ron was trying to cheer me up and he only ever has the worst to say to anybody.
I fucked up royally.
