David Hvidsten

This is David. He's my friend. He's sixteen. He's a vegetarian. The good kind. He doesn't eat meat because he doesn't like the taste. Eggs, milk, and dairy products are still open. He's pretty cool, for a geek. He plays Magic the Gathering. D&D. Reads sci-fi. Into trance. Into writing. Into reading. He's going out with Christine, if that's the sort of thing that makes a difference to you. He has a website, updated infrequently. It's all about him. Sadly, not many people go there. You should. Now.

A lot of the time he does things without thinking them through first. This one time in Art II we were glazing our clay masks so they could be fired. He thought the glaze needed water because it was thick. He held it upside down to show us that none would come out. I suggested to him that maybe that wasn't a good idea. He felt that to prove me wrong he should use an extreme example, such as turning the glaze upside down over my head. He must have felt that it would remove any doubt in my mind as to how well founded his self-confidence was. I looked up to see the pink, chalky glaze falling out of the jar. Seconds later I was coated. He felt really bad after he stopped laughing. Not that it was a big deal.

He tends to start his mornings with a cup of green tea. He works at Subway and always seems to find some way to work his extensive sandwich knowledge into any conversation. I find that very amusing for some reason. He gets paid $6.50 an hour there, which is a lot for just sitting around at one in the morning. His mom plays piano on the first floor of his house, and he's been playing ever since he could talk. If you ask him any question related to music, he'll probably know the answer, which alternately annoys and amuses me.

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