The End, in brief

I'll have more to say, more thoughtful reflection and introspection shortly. It will probably come as I make the trek back "home" Thursday. Until then, I have this to offer:

My finals, and thus my freshman year, are over. In celebration I drank some Guilford Golden Ale (only fitting, right?) then headed to Arch Enemy's with Westchester for an afternoon and evening of beer pong (as a team, Arch Enemy and I are very compatible), dancing, dogs and a little drama.

The drama was stupid, as it always is, but it caused me to come to a couple more realizations. Those will be shared later, once they're fully developed.

After leaving I was supposed to go with the girls to an impromptu bonfire, but instead I stayed in my room, ate my weight in hummus, and fell into a fitful sleep.

And now I'm writing again.

I hope that holds you over.

Dog Barf

Sorry for my absences recently (I feel like I’m saying that a lot). I’ve been…somewhere doing something I’m sure. At the moment I feel like dog barf.

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 3^rd or 4^th 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.

Panic-Attacks

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…

Summer.

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?

Counting the Days

Praise Jesus and Allah and all their cousins!

At approximately 11:07AM I walked out of my last midterm into relative freedom. Spring break is still a few days away, but those few days will be filled with readings and short write-ups, not hours spent clicking through art history slides until I can’t close my eyes without seeing pictures of Transitional, Early and Late Classical Roman statues. No longer will I drive the Minimalist out of his own bed by listing off Egyptian tombs and artifacts.

^Imhotep, the stepped tomb of King Djoser from the Old Kingdom in Egpyt^

You know what I’m doing instead?

Reading interview transcripts of Quaker Conscientious Objectors during WW1 who volunteered to be semi-starved so the government could study starvation and rehabilitation. Creepy, right?

^Here’s one of the participants.^

Only slightly better than comparing cave paintings, but at least it’s something different.

Speaking of something different, there have been a few changes around the ole dormstead:

My rugby season has ended early. Very early.

It started when I would get short of breath at practice. I’ve always gotten short of breath (especially during sprints), but this was more than normal. I chocked it up to getting out of shape over Christmas break. Well, practice continued and my ability to breath continued to get worse. Very counterintuitive. So after spending the last part of far too many practices standing on the sidelines trying to get rid of the spots that were clouding my vision a equally-asthmatic ruggirl suggested that the cold must be aggravating my asthma.

Hell, the cold was aggravating all of me, but no other parts of my body were refusing to work. Damn asthma.

A week or so later a doctor confirmed the diagnosis and prescribed A) lots and lots of medicine (mainly steroids) that make it nearly impossible to eat soup, climb into bed and other things that require stability OR B) no more outdoor activity until the weather warmed. As much as I lovelovelove rugby I wasn’t willing to put myself through more meds just for the slim chance that they wouldn’t sap all my energy and I would be able to play.

So I’ve gone from bruise-sporting ruggirl to support staff. I carry water bottles, pump up balls, and keep time. Far less fun, but at least I’m not ditching the team like other girls.

I’m also trying veganism.

Why, you (and Mother) ask?

Why the hell not!

(To which Mother responded that I looked thinner than normal in some recent pictures. Mother has thought I have an aversion to food practically since I started making my own food choices. Me? An aversion to food? Really? Exhibit A: FoodBaby)

But frankly, I’m always up for a challenge. And anything involving food always peaks my interest. So with a little help from Fresh Market, a large handful of vegan blogs (especially Peas and Thank You), and the vegan station in the dining hall I’ll be saying “veganize me, Cap’n” for the rest of the week.

For the last few days of this little foodventure I’ll be on…Spring Break! Woohoo!

Roomie-Dearest, Frenchie, Mr. Jackson and Westchester are all accompanying me to Vagina Bitch for a week of drinking, me cooking amazingly wonderful and healthy food, and relaxation. Maybe 1 or 2 other things thrown in there, but you’ll just have to wait and be surprised about those.

The Minimalist and his crew are going to the mountains for their break. I was invited to go (and I know it would be ah-maze-ingly fun), but I kind of want to do my own thing (don’t take that as a sign of problems. Everything is better than ever. I promise.) And I don’t know if we could handle each other for a week straight. No need to put undo stress on our lovely little arrangement. (Though their house rental ends early, so he may come up with a friend anyway.)

So until Friday, when my posse and I get to escape the little brick boxes we live in, I’ll continue reading about starvation (while snacking on trail mix, of course) and dreaming of the free laundry and bathtub that awaits me.

End of a Semester

Finals ended yesterday. I studied for 5 hours straight, 10 hours total for my thoroughly antiquated art history exam. All of that stress and time in hopes of attaining the unobtainable—a 4.0 first semester of freshman year. This is the semester that’s supposed to destroy a person’s GPA; dig a hole they’re trying to climb out of the rest of their college careers. Will I get it?

At 10 o’clock yesterday when I walked back into my room after the test I sure as hell didn’t give a fuck. All I cared about was my flask and some Animal Collective. (I’ll let you know when I find out.)

From there, Roomie-Dearest and I reminisced over a bottle of pink champagne and pastries from Fresh Market. After a time of that Westchester came over and together we ventured over to Big Baby’s for, what he described as, some “festive day drinking.”

You had me at “festive,” says the girl craving Christmas.

It was a lovely time, which included a lost game of pong, a few pouches of fruit snacks and a date invitation from Dustin*. I, of course, said no, but it was nice to be asked.

From there Crazy** and Country accompanied Roomie and me back to our abode for a game of Kings*** and general noise making. The three of them eventually departed for some greener pastures, while I traipsed over to the Minimalist’s for a “nap”. By nap, I of course mean some lovin’. I would have been thoroughly content to lay in his bed naked until I had to get up this morning, but he had other plans. We spent some time gathered in DeVirgin’s place with a large collection of other people, most of who will be abroad for the spring.

Despite the relatively early hour, I was a zombie thanks to the perfect storm of a 6:45 wake-up call, exam and marathon drinking. So much so that when we “finally” returned to the Minimalist’s apartment I fell fast asleep on his shoulder. He woke me up so I could walk to his room, undress and both of us could cuddle up under the covers. We woke up this morning still cuddling. It was almost nauseatingly cute, especially for us.

The annoying ringing of one of my many, varying alarms interrupted the nausea to remind me that I didn’t do any of the packing I had planned to yesterday. That meant I had to pack, load my car and hug g’bye to the girls in less than 2 hours and you better believe I did it, with enough time to spare to be able to find myself, once again, in my favorite bed.

After a while I was on the road like Kerouac, driving through the first snow of the year and singing loudly to my favorite of all mixes (made by Twin). Besides a little bit of expected traffic and realizing I left my wallet in my room not to be seen till January, the 8 hours of me-time wasn’t half bad.

I got home just in time for some warm food, a cold beer and chocolate ice cream with Twin. And tomorrow, I get to spend a few luxurious hours grocery shopping and taking full advantage of a real kitchen.

Happy Merry!

*Dustin-his name isn’t Dustin, but he looks like it could be. He’s a really nice rugglet.

**Crazy-Cesar’s slightly-unhinged, but super sweet girlfriend.

***Kings-a drinking game involving a circle of cards. Also known as Ring of Fire or Circle of Death.

Craving Christmas

Hello, stranger. Long time no speak. How’s the family?

…

Oh, mine is doing well. My brother has infected lymph nodes. I think I have an ear infection. Sister is sick, as well. She emailed me about it, which is weird. She just got an email address and emails me random things. I didn’t have an email address when I was 8, but that was a long time ago and I guess times have changed. Have you been keeping busy?

…

I’ve been pretty busy, too. The fall rugby season ended with a all out bash with my ruggirls, complete with jungle juice, and a frigid co-ed touch tournament, where a few people got a little too intense. The tournament was followed by me drinking on a Sunday afternoon with some friends and getting some good tipsy bonding time with my man. I went to a “formal” Friday night and got skeezed on twice Saturday. Most of my peers are pulling their hair out and memorizing the library’s hours in preparation for finals. I, on the other hand, am having a relatively easy time of it. With only one actual final, a take-home final and two brief and briefer papers to write, I’m on easy street compared to most. Call it luck of (screwing) the Irish or a wonderful dose of karmic payback, but I’m loving things right now.

…

Well, not all things. Maybe this is part of growing up or being away from home with all of its decorations and abilities to create the delicious baked good I keep reading about, but I’m just not in the Christmas spirit. The only thing that has really been able to put me in the mood was the handful of trips I’ve made to the mall, which is thoroughly decked out in red, green and gold (and has been since at least November 1st). But now my Christmas shopping is done, my friends’ shopping is done, I’ve filled my Salvation Army stocking, bought all the wrapping supplies I need and finished writing my holiday budget advice article for the paper.

I, once again, almost can’t wait to go home in 11 days. The Minimalist may even be with me, which should make for an interesting few days. And in 16 days I’ll once again be in New York, eating Italian pastries, slices, and soaking up the accent.

Until then, what is a girl to do when she’s craving Christmas?

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

I Drink.

I apologize for my absence this past week. As I warned you, I had no time for anything that wasn’t completely necessary. That is evident by the clothes, dirty dishes, half-finished papers and open books cover every surface in my room. My side is starting to rival Roomie-Dearest’s for messiest. That will be rectified soon, as the walls feel like they’re closing in on me every time I step on a pair of shoes or can’t find a clean spoon.

In the meantime, as I procrastinate everything, allow me to recap my week:

I studied a lot, most of which was done in the library. I trudged through on minimal sleep and too much coffee, skipping practice Wednesday, much to my dismay. I took my last midterm Thursday and then poured myself a MUCH needed, deserved, enjoyed, etc. etc. drink.

Is it bad I started my Thirstday just after 5?

Therapist says: maybe.

I say: no. It’s clearly happy hour.

After dinner Roomie-Dearest and I, drinks in water bottles in hand, made our way over to the Minimalist, Cesar and co’s apartment for It’s Always Sunny and cookie baking. We drank. We socialized. I, once again, forgot that silicone bakeware gets just as hot as metal and burned myself. A quick stop over at our to be defined abode to refill, then we headed to a bridge in the woods where we continued to drink and be merry.

The next morning, upon waking up in the Minimalist’s bed, I went to class and then…did something I’m sure, though at the moment I don’t remember. That night Roomie-Dearest and I once again took to the woods, this time to a bonfire hosted by several friends. There were two fire pits, African drums, $3 bottomless cups that accompanied three kegs, and $1 shots. Unfortunately, the next morning was an early rugby morning so I had to restrain myself (which I have gotten better at, despite what this long weekend may lead you to believe). The bonfires ended when someone stupidly mentioned cops (that never came) so we walked back, all the while I was rapping “Fuck the Police”.

I woke the next morning (in my bed) and readied myself for rugby. After 80 minutes of near-constant play, I had earned the beer and pizza I happily consumed.

Highlights of the women’s rugby social-two large-breasted teammates ran around topless because they scored their first tris. I accidentally burned my captain’s lip with a cigarette. There was almost a fight when one girl threw boot-beer on her teammate (the other team, of course).

Then came a quick trip to the second half of the men’s game where the highlights included my friends completely covered in red body paint, more Hello-Jello, and Cesar getting another clump of his dreads ripped out. Next came the men’s social with more beer, me motor-boating a fat man’s boobies, and a little bit of a meltdown on my part.

What had happened was: on my way to the bathroom, a friend and teammate (who I trust to not purposely try to fuck me over) came and told me she heard the Minimalist was having sex with other people. I may or may not have shed a tear (I will never admit if I did), so I was taken to the bathroom. Roomie-Dearest, because she is such a dear, got Cesar and another one the roommates who immediately came into the bathroom and talked to me until I was calm.

It just warmed my little heart.

After the social and a barely-remembered dinner, I invited Brawny Man*, who had been flirting with me all social, and a few other friend’s back to my place for some ghetto margaritas. He continued flirting with me, I continued resisting, and he told me about his long-term, long-distance, open relationship with a girl in New York. He eventually left for a party and I made the walk over to the Minimalist’s apartment to chat (not talk, because that sounds scary).

Our chat included lots of use of the phrase “technically…, but in reality…” and a few girlish grins on my part. And after some Wikipedia researching (I shit you not), we decided to be sexually, not genetically, monogamous.

Cesar’s response: So nothing’s changed, right?

Pretty much, but it’s a step nonetheless. A step that lead into a lovely night of continued drinking and continued persistence by Brawny Man. (The Minimalist finds his persistence hilarious.)

I spent all of my slightly-hungover, slightly-exhausted Sunday with the Minimalist, his brother and girlfriend, and his parents.

What? Where did that come from?

His brother and girlfriend live half an hour away and his parents were in for the weekend. He mentioned their visit weeks ago, at which point he began trying to scare me. It surely worked, because driving down there I was my usual pre-parents nervous wreck (which he found hilarious). Everything turned out well. We drank some, played a stupid lawn games, ate some ribs, and heard embarrassing stories about the Minimalist.

And now it’s Monday, the last week before fall break and I’m running towards the light at the end of the tunnel and my former weight (but that’s a story for another day). I wonder wish I’ll reach first.

*Brawny Man-a male rugger with rugged good looks and a journalism major. He flirted with me at one social and the Minimalist got quite jealous.

A Big State Weekend

Midterms, midterms, how I hate thee.

Yes, m’dear friends, it is hell week here in College. Not Big University hell week where I’m being tortured and hazed all in the name of everlasting friendship and sisterhood. This is Tiny Liberal College hell week where they pile on endless amounts of work to ensure your education because 1) we are in charge of defeating the Ridiculous Right once we graduate and 2) if we’re going to do some of the crazy shit we do now we need to have some kind of intellectual justification.

Until this madness ceases I have gone into minimalist mode. I don’t have time to wash dishes, take out the trash, worry if my clothes really match, or unpack from my weekend. No, I have time for studying, some eating, and rugby.

But, because of popular demand, I will take a few moments to tell you about my weekend:

It was the first non-rugby weekend in a while, so I took the opportunity to head down to Brother’s Big State School, and invite Twin to join me. The first thing we did upon arriving (besides me make myself a drink and get reacquainted with the joins of free laundry) was head to Starfucks where we proceeded to almost relive every moment of our lives since we last saw each other. (We may be twins, but that doesn’t mean we have ESP.)

We returned to Brother’s humble abode to find two of his roommates-Yankee Doodle and In-State-and his girlfriend-Sorority Sister-setting up a beer pong table at…6!

In the immortal words of Asher Roth, “[They] love college”.

A few rounds of pong, a few drinks and a few cigarettes later I’m practically shoving pizza in Twin’s face while Brother asks her if she hates her vagina. Why all of this was going on, I’m not quite sure, but if I knew it would certainly be a long, complicated story.

We woke up the next morning to find that Twin had eaten half an expired candy apple and threw pretzel sticks around the apartment. The rest of Saturday day was pretty lazy. Some Starfucks, some homework, some football with a Fucktard girl. Brother, Sorority Sister and In-State had to leave for a sorority hoe-down, so Twin and I made dinner for Yankee Doddle and that Fucktard girl. Steamed rice, a sautéed vegetable medley, and chicken from the George Forman grill. Of course, only Twin and I ate the vegetables.

Then, we continued to drink heavily. We played three different card games (all of which I remember!). From there on, though, nothing. Here’s my night as told by Twin:

We got really drunk. I took my bra off at some point and Brother didn’t approve. I threw up over Brother’s second story balcony and a guy visiting downstairs took that as a sign to climb up the side of the building and chat. I talked with him for a long time, but since he was from Maryland most of our conversation consisted of me asking him if he knew every person I knew from Maryland. I then threw up some more (I think in Brother’s bathroom, but she didn’t specify). At some point I texted the Minimalist this sweet little nothing:

“I’m shit faced and I miss you. Do you miss me?”

He responded: “Of course I miss you. Have fun, drunky.”

So romantic.

I woke up the next morning still in my clothes, sans bra, and feeling like legit-shit. Twin and I said our good-byes, I packed up my stuff and eventually left. Four hours later I was home. Then, still hung-over mind you, I went to visit the Minimalist who really did miss me.

At one point will hugging him my nose was close to his armpit and he warned me not to smell him because his version of romantic is not showering or taking care of himself all weekend and drinking heavily so no random girls would try to talk to him.

And that is why I like him.

I eventually left his place and returned to mine. For once I didn’t spend the night. I actually needed to get some sleep. And now I’m in the thick of midterms, battling for my life, waiting for the light at the end of the tunnel-Friday.