Wednesday, April 28
Sunday, April 25
Why dog barf?
Because you know what’s in shit. You know what caused shit. Dog barf, on the other hand, is a complete mystery.
I’m chalking it up to a good ole fashioned hangover and blaming warm beer, keg beer, unset Hello Jello, vodka and old tequila mixed, and a little bit of Hennessy plus a night of dancing, getting sweated and stepped on (hello possibly re-broken foot. Is this the 3rd or 4th time we’ve met?), too many cookies and not enough water, and my constant state of stress and sleeplessness for my current state of dog barf.
I even look a little like dog barf.
Yes, I did just take that this morning. Yes, I am still wearing last night’s dress.
If you can’t tell, yesterday was a rugby day, hence the Hello Jello.
Unfortunately, I made this batch on Friday night after having a drink or two so I think (and by think I mean definitely) I added too much Hello (vodka). That threw off the delicate scientific balance that is Hello Jello and I wound up with it on my hands the next morning when I went to take it out before the game.
It later got drank through a straw (bad idea).
From there I went to an off-campus party with some friends (including Arch Enemy). I danced. I drank. I’m pretty sure I had a nip slip or three. And Arch Enemy proposed…with my own ring. It fit perfectly, though (imagine that), so I took it as a sign and said yes. I think we’re going to Vegas after finals.
Rewind who knows how long.
I lost/blacked out and hid my purse containing my school ID and room key. So I’ve been living off the grid for a week now. The Minimalist’s parents were in town so we spent another Sunday afternoon at his brother’s house with them. The difference this time, though, was that Sunday became Monday and we hadn’t left yet. Him and I ended up sharing a quickly deflating air mattress in the living room after I ate ham
(super duper bad idea, I was sick till Wednesday), drank whiskey and had a heart to heart with his father. Yup, I’m that kind of girl.
We also went to dinner with them on Friday, though that meal was far less exciting. The only story-worthy happening was his father practically dancing on the table to the Indian music videos that were playing.
And his mother, who hates me less, invited me to Vermont in August. I, of course, intend to block out that commitment for the next couple of months.
I’m sure some other things have happened since I last wrote, but the only other noteworthy thing I can think of is…
I got an internship!
An awesome internship!
The greatest internship ever!
I’m going to be writing (yes, actually writing all by myself) a column for a food and culture magazine in my Dirty Dirty town.
What will this column be on?
The vegetarian and vegan food scene, of course!
Talk about made to order perfect.
I’m jazzed beyond belief and can’t wait to get home and start eating. And I don’t really have to wait that long to get home because May 6th is the magic day.
Yup, just 11 short days before my freshman year is over. And now I’m hyperventilating.
Off to find a paper bag to breath/barf into.
Monday, April 12
Nothing too terribly notable happened this weekend. Well, unless you count the Minimalist and I getting within a hair (or two) of defining what we’re doing as notable.
Before you pull out the tickertape and noisemakers, let me rain on your parade a bit.
No, we are not in any way officially doing anything. We are still (and will be for the foreseeable future) “whatevering.” Unfortunately for some, FaceSpace doesn’t have that as an option, so we can’t even officially do that.
There are no babies or weddings or promise rings in the future.
What is in the future, the very near future, is what prompted this occurrence…
Dorms close May 6. My freshman year ends May 6. That means May 6 I pack up my little toy car with all the belongings I’m not putting into storage and drive the 7 hours back to my Dirty Dirty “home” (that is hopefully not as dirty now that the mold problem is supposedly taken care of). May 6 is the day I leave the life and friends I have spent so many months adapting to and enjoying. May 6 is the day it all changes. Or actually, goes back to how it was.
Moral of the story: May 6 is a huge day.
And it’s only 24 days away.
This realization has been giving me multiple mini-panic attacks everyday for the past week. Some of those attacks have been based on the knowledge that without anything official or declared there is nothing to hold the Minimalist and my place as we live out these sweltering months separately.
So Friday night, after an evening full of debauchery, when we were sitting on his bed the Minimalist noticed something wasn’t quite right. Immediately he guessed what was weighing on my mind which tells me A) how well he knows me (scary thought) and B) that he’s been thinking about it, too (possibly even scarier).
The talk went well. It was wonderfully unemotional and completely lacking in awkwardness. The verdict:
We like each other. And we are going to (somehow, someway) see each other over the summer. No concrete plans yet on how that’ll happen, but we decided it will, so it will.
I know this isn’t quite earth shattering, but it’s a big step for him and I. Agreeing to see each other over the break means agreeing to plan in advance. It means expectations.
That scares me. Hell, everything scares me right now:
Finals, the end of ¼ of college, going home and finding what’s left of my old life there, jobs, internships, responsibilities.
Basically, I’m about a step away from curling up in the fetal position with my baby blanket (which I did bring to college).
Welcome to adulthood?
Friday, April 9
Sunday, April 4
It all started Friday when Roomie and I took Westchester to the airport to pick up her younger sister—Jailbait*. She was coming down for the weekend to soak up some sun and get away from some drama back home.
She soaked up some sun, but she wasn’t able to escape drama. She ended up creating plenty down here.
The night started out nice enough. We went out to an Asian vegetarian/vegan restaurant I’ve been dying to try. Dinner was lovely as was the coffee shop we stopped by after.
A little later we headed out to a party off-campus with a big posse of ladies.
In the little bit of time we were there (it wasn’t my crowd and there was a bonfire blazing) I had an interesting little encounter. I was approached by a guy who I barely knew—Arch Enemy**—who began the conversation: “We hate each other, right?”
Doesn’t that sound like the beginning of a beautiful friendship?
It actually turned out to be.
My group of girls ended up leave the house-party not too long after and heading over to the bonfire. It wasn’t quite roaring yet, but some of my friends—Tucker*** and Blondie****--were starting it. And by the time we got there GoodMan was just tapping the keg, I was still able to grab a seat around the fire so I could drink my first cup with Blondie, and not too long later people broke out the drums. I even ran into Arch Enemy again. Him and I ended up chatting quite a bit and before long he was telling people I was his long-term girlfriend (we’ve been dating since we were fetuses, apparently).
Everything was going great…until…Cesar stood up on a bench and announced that, for whatever reason, PSafe had called the cops and given them permission to come into the woods and restore order. WTF, PSafe? They never, ever, ever do this.
This announcement coincided with Tucker and Blondie deciding to leave and get sandwiches, so I was planning on heading out with them.
But on the trail I ran into Connecticut who, in his usual levelheaded, take-charge Repiblican fashion, calmed all the fleeing partiers and convinced me to return to the pit with him. At which point I refilled my cup and refound my “boyfriend.” Once again everything was going good.
Until…GoodMan and someone else ran up to the keg, grabbed it and ran off into the woods. WTF, guys? I was still drinking on that.
That’s when Country made the announcement that, yes, cops were in fact advancing upon us quickly. This fact was proven when I looked over and saw cops running through the woods yielding flashlights.
My cue to leave. And leave I did, with a group of people (including Arch Enemy, Westchester and Jailbait) through the woods. We were forced to blaze our own trail in order to avoid being stopped, but we eventually made it to freedom and back to an apartment, where we immediately began drinking again. And where Westchester and Jailbait got into a rather heated fight. Jailbait, of course, was to blame.
Saturday “morning” proved to be quite hectic, as I woke up with just enough time to say g’bye to the Minimalist, run to my room, change and head out to the meadows to partake in an Easter Beer hunt with Tucker, Roomie, Westchester and Jailbait hosted by GoodMan. $3 for all the beer you can find. How else are you supposed to celebrate Jesus’ resurrections?
We ended up finding about 40 so I was sent out to get a cooler, blanket and food because we fully intended to camp out until we finished them all. 6 hours later we were burnt, drunk and on the verge of death, but we finished. And with just enough time to take a quick nap, dress, and begin drinking again. This time we went to a soccer party.
(Arch Enemy was supposed to be there (as he is currently trying to woo me), but he wasn’t feeling too hot so he promised to find me next weekend.)
After all day in the sun none of us were feeling our best, but we pushed through. Jailbait, though, did not. She acted her age by refusing to drink or talk to anyone (even though everyone was being perfectly nice and offering her drinks), but instead she opted for literally sitting in a corner texting for an hour. Then she called Westchester and demanded to be taken home. Luckily, Blondie was nice and sober enough to drive.
By the time we got back to the soccer house, though, the cops were sitting in their car across the street waiting to bust the place so Blondie, Connecticut, a random girl, and I headed back to campus where we once again took to the woods with some 40s for a bonfire.
The bonfire ended up being one of the worst decisions ever because I’m 99% sure it was thrown by a bunch of neo-Nazis (or Unibombers), none of which go to school here. And most of which head shaved heads.
Blondie protected me from their advances and we left not too long later. We ended up back at his apartment watching Fox and the Hound (one of my absolute favorites!).
I got home around 4, completely exhausted and vowing never to drink again (this week). Fat chance of that because I woke to a text from the Minimalist inviting me to help him and the guys kill the rest of the keg. Oh dear God!
*Jailbait-Westchester’s 17-year-old sister. She’s a junior in high school and sure acts it.
**Arch Enemy-a guy I’d met at a party a month or so back who, for whatever reason, I decided I very much hated. It was mutual at the time.
***Tucker-one of the leading Republicans and an occasional rugglet, who tucks in every shirt every time.
****Blondie-a cross-country boy with blonde hair, blue eyes and oodles of sweet, easy charm.
*****Connecticut-the epitome of an affluent, Northeastern Republican. He’s got curly blonde hair, which he parts on the side.