On Monday, I took out Angela "Johnny" "I forget her last name" something. She's half-Korean, half-Trinidadian, with short dark hair.
     Although I don't know her incredibly well, the date started out with complements. Johnny said to me nicely, "You don't seem like a mega-asshole."
     Alright! What a great complement from a girl I'm on a date with. I told her I appreciated that she didn't consider me a mega-asshole. That means a lot.
     "Date of the Week" XIII was planned to be a game of Spy, which means Johnny and I were going to watch people who we saw in the mall and try to find out as much information as possible about them. We chose a couple seated next to us at Ruby Tuesday's restaurant. The guy had a finely-trimmed gray beard, with dark slacks and a dress-shirt on. His wife wore a lot of make-up and nice clothes.
     "I think they're from Alaska," I said.
     "What!?" said Johnny.
     "You're right. That was stupid. Maybe Minnesota."
     "What!? They're from the Southeast. Like, maybe Georgia."
     "What!?" I said. Then, I remembered my theory that Minnesotans are the nicest people. This couple didn't look too nice.
     "They're probably from Florida," said Johnny.
     I agreed with her. Our Spy instincts were very keen. We'd managed to laboriously rule out every state except for the one that 99% of people in the mall probably live in.
     When I gave Johnny the good news that dinner was on me, she said, "You're my hero." Apparently, a free dinner is what it takes to win over Johnny's admiration. MODERN ODDYSEUS' DATING ADVICE # 12 - Almost without exception, it's preferable to be a hero to your date than to be a mega-asshole.
     Johnny likes to help the poor, she plays piano, and she lets me call her Johnny - three qualities I hope to find in my wife. But, she doesn't want to get married for ten years, so no engagement was set on this date.
     We finished eating and had to leave. The couple was nowhere in sight. Johnny said, "What do you think they did for a living?"
     "Judging by his rugged beard, I'd say the guy worked in a outdoor clothing shop. Probably a salesman for Timberlands."
     "No, no, no. I think he's in management."
     "Yeah, you're probably right. They seemed to have a lot of money. Probably a manager at Timberlands."
     "Nah, I don't think so. What do you think the wife does?"
     "She doesn't work - just spends his money."
     "See, I don't know, Johnny," she said. "She's gotta sell make-up. Did you see all the make-up she was wearing?"
     "Yeah, you're right. She probably sells Mary Kay out of her home."
     All in all, Johnny's and my spywork wasn't very successful. We failed to confirm anything except that the couple enjoys chicken appetizers. Unless the C.I.A. needs to know what food to send refugees on their birthdays, I doubt they'll give us any jobs.
     We weren't involved in any high-speed car chases, we didn't get to dive around the couple's backyard ducking behind bushes, and we didn't execute any helicopter rescues. Maybe Johnny and I could sign up to "off" (that's spy lingo) Fidel Castro for our next date and have some real excitement. We could at least find out if he prefers onion rings to mozzarella sticks.

I hung out the other day with my fellow "Week of Gluttony" competitor, Jojo. We were talking about how hungry we were, when about ten other kids showed up. They sat next to us, including the Greek trouble-maker Corrina, who shook her bottle at Jojo, spraying water on him.
     Jojo ran to grab some water of his own. Corrina countered by grabbing a bottle of juice.
     Johnny from Cyprus, a former army commander, said to Jojo, "Are you a man or a mouse? You must get her back."
     A few minutes passed. Corrina's devious juice strategy managed to hold off Jojo for a little while ... until she was triple-teamed by Johnny, Costas from Greece, and the wily Swede. Corrina was now soaked. Jojo celebrated by pointing in her face.
     Corrina, her sister Catherine, and Austrian Karen went for revenge after the guys. A chase scene ensued. Beer bottles, ice cube trays, and cups were filled with water and quickly emptied over other people's heads. Soon, all of the combatants had gotten wet.
     By the time Raemondo, a large Sicilian, had brought out a two-gallon bucket of water, chaos had erupted. Everyone was soon drenched - including poor me, an innocent spectator. Everyone, that is, except for Jojo, who'd somehow managed to disappear without ever getting more than a few drops of water on him.
     "Let's get him!" yelled Corrina and the girls.
     We rushed to his room, but the door was locked. We knocked and knocked and knocked, but the crafty Swede wouldn't come out. We even employed his neighbor, Gerry, to invite him over.
     Gerry wasn't the smoothest persuader. "Will you come over here?" he said. "I wanna show you something."
     We even tried appealing to Jojo's weakness - food. "Oh!" said Gerry. "We've got pizza."
     Jojo wisely never left his second-floor dorm room. But the girls were persistent. "We've got to get him," said Leann, an Irishwoman. They tried knocking on his door a few more times to no avail. A small war had broken out, centralized outside of Jojo's dorm room in St. Petersburg, Florida.
     "There's only one solution," I said, sarcastically. "We're going to have to go through the vents. Karen, you're the smallest, are you ready for your mission?"
     Johnny from Cyprus started talking tactics. "Okay, Justin - you be my coordinate supervisor. I'll be chief-in-command." He turned to one of the girls and said, "Leann, you wash the dishes."
     Leann didn't find the sexist comment too funny.
     I continued the joke. "Corrina, you're going to have to tunnel into the middle of their room."
     Nichole, whose wit you may remember from "Date of the Week" VIII, pointed and said, "And you be the construction worker ... and you be the indian.
     "Get it? The Village People?"
     I applauded Nichole. That was a great joke. If only I hadn't let her get away after our date...
     Just then, Jojo's door opened a crack. His roommate, Morgan, a 6-foot-7 basketball player, held a bottle containing a mysterious orange liquid. Morgan said, "This is urine. We pi-ed in this bottle."
     "Nuh-uh." Corrina didn't believe him.
     "Oh, yeah? Well, just feel how warm it is."
     The girls felt the bottle, and all retreated, scared. They shouted at Jojo from a distance.
     "Come on. Come out of your room!"
     Morgan said, "This is urine."
     The girls continued. "Don't be a wimp, Jojo."
     "This is urine!"
     "Come on!"
     "This is URINE!"
     "Get out of--"
     "Urine!"
     "Co--"
     "Urine!"
     "We..."
     "I'm holding a bottle of urine!"
     Johnny and I looked at each other and laughed, as Morgan just kept repeating himself.
     "This is urine."
     "Jojo!"
     "URINE!"
     Finally, Jojo came out of his room, brandishing a black, inflated baseball bat. Morgan followed him, holding the bottle. They stood next to the girls. Corrina held the two-gallon bucket of water.
     "This is urine," Morgan reminded her.
     Jojo mocked Corrina confidently. "Boy, Corrina, you look really wet."
     "I'm holding a bottle of piss!"
     Jojo felt Corrina's shirt. "I would've thought you'd be dry by now, but you're soaked." Jojo smiled.
     "This is piss. Piss!"
     Just then, Corrina tried handing the bucket off to her sister. Jojo swiftly intercepted it and poored it back onto the girls. Morgan rushed up and emptied the contents of his bottle all over the girls' faces and clothes.
     "Aaaaah!" the Greek girls screamed.
     Jojo and Morgan disappeared, drier than two Mormons in the middle of Prohibition.
     Catherine ran to the showers. Corrina kept smelling herself, wondering if the bottle really contained pi or not. By the time the girls regained composure, Jojo and Morgan were safe in bed.
     "Week of Gluttony" may have belonged to Modern Oddyseus, but the champion of the water fight was certainly Jojo.
     We found out the next day that the bottle was really only apple juice. Jojo and Morgan had put it in the microwave so it'd feel warm.
     The Greek girls may have been traumatized by the incident, but it just goes to show: You can't expect to win when you mess with a sneaky Swede.
     (Unless you're prepared to gorge yourself with 4 1/2 gorilla-sized helpings of Chinese food)

until next time,
(Jojo's conqueror) Modern Oddyseus

P.S. - I only have one date left in the semester. I don't know who it'll be with, but I'm going to go out on a limb and title it ahead of time: "Date of the Week" XIV - The One Where I Get a Kiss! Stay tuned for more Modern Oddyseus' Dating Advice (such as MODERN ODDYSEUS' DATING ADVICE # 13 - Make a move with spontaneity and confidence. Don't say something stupid like, "So, you wanna make out?" I've actually said that before. It didn't work). Wish me luck!