Weekend in numbers (irresponsible 20-something Austin edition):

10: Number of minutes (X 7)  spent on the Star Alliance website creating an around-the-world plane ticket itinerary.  Whoops.
9:  Estimated number of times I asked the DJ to play the song Conga by Miami Sound Machine on Friday night.  Hard to believe I was unsuccessful at this, really.
(why yes that is Gloria Estefan circa 1984, thanks for asking).
8:  Number of cities added to my (fantasy?) around-the-world plane ticket itinerary.  Tokyo? Phuket? Marrakech? Rio de Janeiro? Barcelona?  Anyone? Anyone?
7:  Number of pre-10 a.m. texts in a row without response received from Star Bar attendee whom I naively agreed to exchange numbers with after he told me he was a “screenwriter.”  Just as I am a “blogger.”
6:  Number of plans sketched out on and friends disappointed, seemingly.  I could blame my perpetual  flakiness on being soincrediblypopularandall, but it more likely stems more from my constant overcommitment and unrealistic belief in my own ability to teleport between social engagements.
5:  Number of pounds of bacon-laden macaroni and cheese I desired to consume in the suite at the UT game on Saturday.  Thank you LES.
4:  Number of times i thought about my [loud] yoga challenge proclamation on blog and shuddered at such an embarassingly public demonstration of a commitment handicap.
3:  Approx number of minutes of spastic bliss experienced while the Footloose song played at Molotov.
2:  Number of redbulls consumed at Star Bar.  Of all my bad habits, my penchance for consuming redbull at midnight must be one of the worst. #internalorganfail.
1:  Number of  times I experienced the pure unadulterated joy of incorporating discussions of Moby Dick whilst tailgating.
0:  Number of glow bracelets found in bed over weekend.  If you only knew what a rare occurence this was, you would be very proud of the marked progress toward maturity and overall adulthood that such an accomplishment represents for me.
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