Long, Sweet and Perfect

Those three words describe my night last night (not how I feel today after going to bed at 6am).

I stayed up way past my bedtime with Arch Enemy. And normally, I value sleep more than a tub full of perfectly concocted Hello Jello, but I would happily sacrifice it again and again for a night like last night.

It took three dogs

and a few hours of adult conversation (which is something I feel like I'm sorely lacking most of the time), but I finally get it. As I was finally laying down in bed last night, with the words that passed between the two of us still reverberating around in my head, so many things clicked.

I understand why I feel the way I do about a few (important) things. I know some of what I'm missing. I know a bit more of what it takes to be a happy, thriving person, and, dare I say, an adult.

I don't know if I would call it an epiphany, but it was definitely an ah ha moment.

I wish, more than anything, that I could have more moments/nights like that.

It was long overdo.

PS-I have a week left till summer.

PPS-It is Twin and Adult's birthdays.

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?

Blah

Without going into detail, I'm not having a good day. And if there was ever a day in my life when sitting at Starfucks with ChiChi and Twin,

smoking tigarettes

and drinking unsweetened iced passion fruit tea (for Twin and I)

and carmel frappuccinos (for ChiChi) would be ah-maze-ing, it would be today.

We've spent so much time and money there over the years, planning our lives and bitching about them.

I need to do both today.

I guess it's good that in less than a month I'll be able to do just that.

Suitors Abound

This weekend kicked my ass, hurt my liver, scraped my legs and burned my shoulders. If there was ever a time when I needed a weekend to recover from my weekend I think it would be now. Seriously, I’m far worse for the wear right now.

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.

Shockers

Oh boy, oh berto! This weekend was a doozy. Not a bad doozy. A jam-packed doozy.

It started on Friday when, after a super scrumptious lunch, Westchester and I had to run to my room, grab a bag-full-o-booze, and run out to meet the Minimalist and Country to head off to a men’s rugby game a few towns away. The ride was an hour and a half of nonstop old rap, including Country dancing so hard the car was accelerating randomly.

Upon arriving at the pitch I chugged 2 beers while Country held me at knifepoint. I shit you not.

I watched a little bit of the game, but the real action for me was in the car. Not my car, mind you. GoodMan had lent us his car for the evening. And by action, I mean hibidy-bibidy. Hanky-panky. Yup, the Minimalist and I did the horizontal tango in the backseat of GoodMan’s car. And the icing on the cake…

We got caught! HA!

I’m not sure how long people were watching, but suddenly the Minimalist jumped up, which caused me to look up and realize that Country, Cesar, Roomie, and a couple of other rugby fans had their faces smooshed to the glass. Upon putting my pants back on and exiting the car, I took a bow.

Because, honestly what else could I have done?

Saturday brought some lovely weather and an afternoon spent lying in the grass. Hippie-dippy says, love.

I’m thoroughly enjoying the hints of spring that have been popping up. Including the lovely trees that are blooming around campus.

My evening was spent drinking a water bottle full of vodka and ginger ale (a delicious combination) at Big Baby’s house. He hasn’t had people over in quite a while so everyone was there, which I thoroughly enjoyed. Most of my time was spent watching the beer pong games, in which a handful of my Republican friends were dominating. They weren’t so absorbed in their play so that all of them couldn’t hit on me, including utilizing an adorable beagle puppy.

Yup, they went there.

The highlight of my night, though, came at the very end. As I was filing out the door with the other people in the car, I passed Asshole*. We’ve hung out a handful of times. We’ve talked. We’ve laughed. He’s insulted me to my face. But nothing terribly noteworthy. Until I said g’bye to him. That’s when the unthinkable happened. Something I had never seen in general, certainly not with me.

He hugged me.

This is huge! Especially since earlier in the night he had a freshman climbing a light post to avoid being shot by him with a BB gun.

It may not sound like a big deal, but it’s really boggled me.

Could this mean that I am actually being completely accepted by the inner circle? Or maybe he was just off his rocker drunk?

I’ll never know.

*Asshole-a “dear” friend of the Minimalist’s who is infamous for his ability to offend, degrade and thoroughly belittle anybody and everybody he comes into contact with. But he’s a great guy, because he treats everyone equally.

Fucking Alarms

Let me fill you in on one unfortunate aspect of dorm life that few people think about—fire alarms.

This isn’t high school where there is one scheduled fire drill a month, everyone files out in an orderly fashion and you waste a few minutes of class. No, this is college where there are no fire drills. There are just fire alarms. That go off at odd times. For odd reasons. Stupid reasons like someone burned a bag of popcorn or didn’t turn the oven off in the communal kitchen. When that incessant noise begins everyone in the building is required to drop what they’re doing and assemble in the parking lot. If you don’t evacuate you face fines. If you do evacuate you face a crowd of pissed of college students who have been made to stand and wait the 5-10 until the fire trucks come (even though the station is half a block away and it shouldn’t take that long), then the 10-15 it takes the firemen to suit up, grab unnecessary equipment and go inside to discover the cause of the alarm, and finally the 5 extra minutes it takes to make the announcement that it is safe to re-enter because there is, in fact, no fire.

This is a highly annoying process that I have been lucky enough to only have endureed a small handful of times. Then yesterday happened.

There I was around 11pm, innocently sitting in my room doing homework and researching what vegetables to plant in the upcoming month, when I hear the screeching of the alarm. Oh fuck. So I grab a jacket, lock my door, and file down the stairs with my few freshmen. As I’m exiting I do see a few people frantically running, as if it were a real fire. This is comical, but not enough to reverse my anger.

Once outside I find my posse, bitch for a few minutes, and begin the waiting game. 10 minutes later 3 fire trucks roll onto campus, sirens blaring. This was completely unnecessary. The firemen get their lifesaving tools and enter the clearing not burning dorm. 10 minutes later we’re told we can enter.

Considering it had been a week or so since the last alarm (for which I wasn’t even present) I don’t stay pissed for too long. I eventually go to bed, expecting a few hours of wonderful sleep before an 8am gym call.

HA! I couldn’t have been more wrong.

At about 4am, while in a deep, peaceful, bear-like sleep, the fucking alarm goes off again. I’m pissed the instant I wake up. Getting out of bed I find my pants and shoes. Roomie is trying to find her clothes by phone-light. I angrily turn on the ceiling light because, honestly, who the hell are we trying not to disturb? I stomp downstairs, gather in the parking lot and wait. While waiting I angrily listen to people complaining about their lost sleep and how we should get out of early classes in the morning.

Seriously? I think to myself. Grow the fuck up. Nobody, including myself, cares.

As you can tell, I’m angry and have no patience.

The fire trucks eventually come (only 2 this time) and the ordeal begins again.

It didn’t take too long, though, before PSafe stuck a head out a 3^rd floor window and announced someone pulled the alarm intentionally (not even a hint of burning bacon) so we could all come inside.

I angrily shuffle up the stairs behind hordes of the slowest walkers possible, and upon entering my room, strip off my pants and throw myself into bed. I quickly fall back asleep and wake without a hint of anger.

Moral of this story:

Fire alarms happen. They’re not drills planned by the school. They’re stupid people doing stupid things. Blame the students. But they’re not that huge of a deal. Keep some shoes and a jacket by the door and you’ll survive.