Last night, at the wine bar on the far side of campus, Footsie Boy was our waiter, and very pointedly did not look me in the eye. From across the room he would stare, presumably wondering Is that the guy I played footsie with in my Mass Media class but then when we studied for the midterm I revealed that I am the stupidest person he'd ever met? but I can't be sure. That's what he should have been thinking, at any rate. It was half-off all bottles of wine, and my friends are alcoholics.
I'm not the designated driver, since we all live within walking distance, but my job is just as important. I keep an eye on everyone to make sure they don't do anything stupid, like bring home a guy with missing teeth to 'watch a movie' at bartime. It's not cockblocking, since it's established, and so far no one's called me up the next day with "oh my god why didn't you let me go home with that guy," but a few people have called to thank me for stopping them, and a few have forgot what happened completely, and I've had to remind them that I didn't allow them to go home with the overweight guy wearing the KoRn shirt who bought us shots.
The jazz band was loud, and we were right under the speakers. As the night went on, the lead singer got more and more drunk (the last song of the night went something along the lines of "We want some shots bartender, some Whiskey shots Mr Bartender, Bartender give us some shots now"). Conversation had gone by the wayside, and the place was getting crowded. I excused myself to the bathroom, or rather got up and mouthed the word 'restroom' since it was futile to try talking at that time. I didn't have to go, I just needed it to be a bit quieter.
I come back from the bathroom, and Guy is sitting at the table behind us, with his hand ver prominently placed on the knee of the (not very attractive) guy sitting next to him. He said Hi and removed his hand from the (not very attractive) guy's knee and shook mine. I asked him how he was, and asked if he just got into town or had stayed here for the summer. He replied "We just got here; I've never been to this bar." I repeated the question, and then he made the "I don't understand what you're saying, but I'm cuter than you are and I'm tipsy so I'm going to shrug my shoulders and put my hand back on this (not very attractive) guy's thigh" sort of face. However, he'd gotten a haircut and it's way too short now, and he totally wasn't cute enough to pull it off, especially paired with a plain white tshirt with pit stains, and the beginnings of a beer belly (though that might be due to how he was sitting). I mean, come on. He was still cute, just not as cute as I remembered him being.
Footsie boy walked past again, and we got another bottle. I poured myself a large glass, and said "After this, I need to get out of here." I had to repeat myself three times, but finally they caught on and got to slamming glasses of wine. We got outside, and I explained the situation.
"Hey guys, remember that time I had sex with a guy and then developed a crush on him and then he was kinda rude to me? Yeah, that was one of them." Of course, the wine was kicking in by then and it probably sounded something like "Hey membertat time I had sexx wit that oneguy" but fortunately everyone else was drinking too, and they could get the jist.
I forget who I was talking to online, but we started making a list of all the things I should do my last semester of college. Like, getting drunk on a Monday in college is cheap and fun, but once you graduate it makes you an alcoholic, and there's a sliding scale for the Walk of Shame where it's kind of empowering in college, and then the older you get, the sleazier it gets. And how it's, well, it's not ok but its more acceptable to be in the chatrooms when you're young, but once you hit 30 and are spending hours a day in the chatrooms you just become sad.
Maybe I should have done something. I can only be drunk and make an ass of myself for so long before it becomes a sign of alcoholism. I should had flirted with him, tried to steal him back or invite myself over for a threesome, or find someone else to make out with right in front of him, or something. These are supposed to be the best times of my life. I should live it up, and make the most of living at the #1 Party School in the country (at least according to Playboy). It's easy to stop someone else from making an ass of themself, but now's the time to be doing it. I should be getting it out of my system.
August 29, 2006
August 25, 2006
Hick!
While the forecast only has mentions of intermittent thunderstorms, I have a sneaking suspicision that a cold front will be moving in and hell will finally freeze over.
I'm going to the Minnesota State Fair this weekend.
I'm excited. We're going to get drunk and make fun of fat people eating deep fried twinkies on a stick.
I'm going to the Minnesota State Fair this weekend.
I'm excited. We're going to get drunk and make fun of fat people eating deep fried twinkies on a stick.
August 23, 2006
Vague!
Last week, in anticipation of living in my own place and getting back into the swing of things, I wrote:
As mentioned in Monday's post, drinking until I blame all the world's problems on the Jews happened this weekend, with more of an anti-semitic bent than there should have been. But they're back together now, so it's all good.
The sketchy all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet is on the other side of the building, which means I don't have to smell it every morning when I wake up, which is a comfort. The food isn't as good as I remember it, though while I was there yesterday, I did hear a Korean dance megamix cover of "Maggie May" which blew my mind and made my day.
I'm pretty sure that every single movie that Netflix offers featuring a shirtless man on the cover is now in my queue, even the really bad ones. I don't have cable, and for some reason I can't get any reception even for the local stations, so I'm whipping through DVDs like there's no tomorrow.
Not only do I have a sexy new laptop, but I'm on the fastest internet connection I've ever had. Thanks to the joys of tominparis, twistedboys, and some file-sharing networks (shhhhh! don't tell the govt), my forearm has gotten quite the workout and I've already made a dent in my harddrive.
Unfortunately, without cable tv and only one friend in town, there isn't much for me to do until school starts except wander around aimlessly during the day hoping to walk by shirtless guys playing frisbee and coming home and sitting for hours in the gay.com rooms, feeling like a total loser.
Which, of course, leads to the part you all have been waiting for.
It was during one of those hours in which I was just bumming around in the chatrooms when the Texan IMed. He's 26, and in town for a few days giving presentations for something or another. He was a really nice guy online, and looked just enough like my first boyfriend to sweeten the deal. The fact that he spoke in complete sentences was icing on the cake.
Chatting online led to flirting online, which led to him sending me a few more pics, some naughtier pics, including one which featured a fetish that I can't say I was ever into. However, I had downloaded a video this weekend which, to my surprise, I found immensely hot. As fetishes go, it's not as intense or weird as others, but it's still something that I almost never actually thought about participating in myself. One or two other guys from online have mentioned this fetish to me in the past, but I had put them on ignore. Usually, if a video features this fetish, I'll fastforward through that part, or not even download the video, but for some reason, I found the video hot, I found the picture he sent hot, I found him hot, and I was getting hot under the collar and below the belt.
I don't know what it was, whether it was his pics, or the video I had seen earlier in the day, or if I more frisky and desperate than I realized or felt, but it sounded really hot. Like, really, really hot. I'm usually quite vanilla but this fetish, at this particular moment in time, really hit the spot for me. And that spot felt gooooood. In fact, I ended up being the one to mention that fetish as something I would like to try, much to his surprise and glee. He said he had only indulged in that fetish once, and had had a good time, and was eager to try it again.
While I second yesterday's comment which said that the sweetest words in the English language are "I can host," it didn't end up being that way. He being in town for only a few days, he didn't really know how to get to my place, and with all of the construction downtown, I didn't really how to give him directions that wouldn't lead him into one of the lakes. I don't have a car, but I found that pic really hot and him really sweet. If he lived in town and it wasn't already after dinner, I would have rather invited him to coffee or dinner and a movie before we fooled around.
Push came to shove, and I was feeling generous and I somehow I found myself on a bus headed for the west side of town. I'm not big on the bus system, but as a student I get to ride for free, and he had a really cute smile.
I read the map wrong, and ended up at the transfer point about a half mile from his place. Rereading the map, I realized that there was only one more bus going near his place, and that was the one I was planning on taking to get there. I wouldn't have a way to get back afterwards. While normally I get really attached, and often my favorite part of good sex is post-coital cuddling, I don't exactly want to be stranded on the far side of town late at night, and I can't invite myself over for a slumber party, as much as that's how I'd rather end the night.
A rash decision, I got off the bus and called him, saying that I was at the transfer point, and hated to flake out but there was only one bus left going out his way for the night, and I didn't want to get stranded. I was probably just going to go grab the next bus that was heading downtown. He felt bad about my having to take the bus and then not even get any, and offered to pick me up from the transfer point since I wasn't that far, and then drive me back later that night sometime.
After a very long ten minutes of waiting in the parking lot, after a homeless black woman yelled at me for sitting on her bench, he showed up, and we headed over to his place. He wasn't as cute as his profile, or at least not cute in the same way. He was still cute, and his pictures weren't misleading, it was just that he didn't remind me of my ex as much as he used to. Which, I suppose, made it easier to engage in the fetish with him.
And I ended up enjoying the fetish, or at the very least not finding it as disgusting as I used to. I mean, I'm not going to end up adding it to my profile under my turn-ons, and I probably won't bring it up next time I'm online and feeling frisky. But if the right guy asks, I may partake in it again sometime.
All in all, I had a really good time. And I have the pictures to prove it...
• Once I get to school, I can indulge in all of my vices! I can fall head-over-heels for guys I sleep with once, write fawning posts about them, and then get crushed! I can spend hours in the gay.com chatrooms and then feel lame about wasting an evening! I can surf for porn on real internet; no more more of this dial-up shit. I can get really bad gay movies (i.e. pseudo softcore gay porn) from Netflix and not have to worry about my mom getting the mail! I live next door to a sketchy all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet! I can drink until I blame all of the wars on God's chosen people!
As mentioned in Monday's post, drinking until I blame all the world's problems on the Jews happened this weekend, with more of an anti-semitic bent than there should have been. But they're back together now, so it's all good.
The sketchy all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet is on the other side of the building, which means I don't have to smell it every morning when I wake up, which is a comfort. The food isn't as good as I remember it, though while I was there yesterday, I did hear a Korean dance megamix cover of "Maggie May" which blew my mind and made my day.
I'm pretty sure that every single movie that Netflix offers featuring a shirtless man on the cover is now in my queue, even the really bad ones. I don't have cable, and for some reason I can't get any reception even for the local stations, so I'm whipping through DVDs like there's no tomorrow.
Not only do I have a sexy new laptop, but I'm on the fastest internet connection I've ever had. Thanks to the joys of tominparis, twistedboys, and some file-sharing networks (shhhhh! don't tell the govt), my forearm has gotten quite the workout and I've already made a dent in my harddrive.
Unfortunately, without cable tv and only one friend in town, there isn't much for me to do until school starts except wander around aimlessly during the day hoping to walk by shirtless guys playing frisbee and coming home and sitting for hours in the gay.com rooms, feeling like a total loser.
Which, of course, leads to the part you all have been waiting for.
It was during one of those hours in which I was just bumming around in the chatrooms when the Texan IMed. He's 26, and in town for a few days giving presentations for something or another. He was a really nice guy online, and looked just enough like my first boyfriend to sweeten the deal. The fact that he spoke in complete sentences was icing on the cake.
Chatting online led to flirting online, which led to him sending me a few more pics, some naughtier pics, including one which featured a fetish that I can't say I was ever into. However, I had downloaded a video this weekend which, to my surprise, I found immensely hot. As fetishes go, it's not as intense or weird as others, but it's still something that I almost never actually thought about participating in myself. One or two other guys from online have mentioned this fetish to me in the past, but I had put them on ignore. Usually, if a video features this fetish, I'll fastforward through that part, or not even download the video, but for some reason, I found the video hot, I found the picture he sent hot, I found him hot, and I was getting hot under the collar and below the belt.
I don't know what it was, whether it was his pics, or the video I had seen earlier in the day, or if I more frisky and desperate than I realized or felt, but it sounded really hot. Like, really, really hot. I'm usually quite vanilla but this fetish, at this particular moment in time, really hit the spot for me. And that spot felt gooooood. In fact, I ended up being the one to mention that fetish as something I would like to try, much to his surprise and glee. He said he had only indulged in that fetish once, and had had a good time, and was eager to try it again.
While I second yesterday's comment which said that the sweetest words in the English language are "I can host," it didn't end up being that way. He being in town for only a few days, he didn't really know how to get to my place, and with all of the construction downtown, I didn't really how to give him directions that wouldn't lead him into one of the lakes. I don't have a car, but I found that pic really hot and him really sweet. If he lived in town and it wasn't already after dinner, I would have rather invited him to coffee or dinner and a movie before we fooled around.
Push came to shove, and I was feeling generous and I somehow I found myself on a bus headed for the west side of town. I'm not big on the bus system, but as a student I get to ride for free, and he had a really cute smile.
I read the map wrong, and ended up at the transfer point about a half mile from his place. Rereading the map, I realized that there was only one more bus going near his place, and that was the one I was planning on taking to get there. I wouldn't have a way to get back afterwards. While normally I get really attached, and often my favorite part of good sex is post-coital cuddling, I don't exactly want to be stranded on the far side of town late at night, and I can't invite myself over for a slumber party, as much as that's how I'd rather end the night.
A rash decision, I got off the bus and called him, saying that I was at the transfer point, and hated to flake out but there was only one bus left going out his way for the night, and I didn't want to get stranded. I was probably just going to go grab the next bus that was heading downtown. He felt bad about my having to take the bus and then not even get any, and offered to pick me up from the transfer point since I wasn't that far, and then drive me back later that night sometime.
After a very long ten minutes of waiting in the parking lot, after a homeless black woman yelled at me for sitting on her bench, he showed up, and we headed over to his place. He wasn't as cute as his profile, or at least not cute in the same way. He was still cute, and his pictures weren't misleading, it was just that he didn't remind me of my ex as much as he used to. Which, I suppose, made it easier to engage in the fetish with him.
And I ended up enjoying the fetish, or at the very least not finding it as disgusting as I used to. I mean, I'm not going to end up adding it to my profile under my turn-ons, and I probably won't bring it up next time I'm online and feeling frisky. But if the right guy asks, I may partake in it again sometime.
All in all, I had a really good time. And I have the pictures to prove it...
August 21, 2006
I can't wait for Classes to begin!
I'm back at school, and with over two weeks until classes begin, I'm finding plenty of time to indulge in my vices. At least one of them.
I drove down Thursday, and I picked out my room. I'm on the top floor, with picture windows and an awesome view of the capital. Below me is the apartment model, which means I don't have to worry about spontaneous dance parties or jumping up and down with glee that Bush's approval rating have gone down again. Unfortunately, being on the top floor of the building, on the east side, with huge picture windows, is that by 7:30 in the morning my room is brighter than an overachieving Asian.
I'm unpacking, putting up posters and setting up my tv (new from my birthday) and my new laptop (so sexy!) and as I plugged in my tv, I blew a fuse. Within ten minutes of being in my new place, I was stuck without electricity. I was not pleased. I made the necessary phone calls, and found out that the guy with the key to the fuse box lives out of town, and it would take until about 9 that night for him to get into town and flip the little switch. I'd just have to wait until then.
I started calling people I knew were in town already, trying both to find something to do and find someone to take all the refrigerated goods my parents bought me before they dropped me off. I called my new best friend the Republican, who dates one of my roommates from sophomore year and we both really like judging people. I left a message, and she called back a few minutes later to tell me that she had just broken up with her boyfriend, with whom she was staying until school started because her lease didn't start until September 1st. I didn't find a place for my milk and yogurt, but I did get drafted to drink until we blamed all of the world's problems on the Jews. Unfortunately, her ex is a Jew from New York who kept kosher, so instead of being topical and clever it sounded kind of anti-semitic.
We went out drinking, and had a good time at a dueling pianos bar. We had started drinking around 7 because she needed to get her mind off of things, so by 9 we were those loud people at the front who really got into it while everyone else was still on their first or second drink.
Around midnight, as we were about to leave to go to another bar, who should show up but her ex, hanging out with some people he didn't really like but he often used their car. It was incredibly awkward, but at least he was hanging out with people he didn't like and appeared to not be having a good time. That always helps. Then we went out and ordered bacon-cheeseburgers, because that is how she spites her kosher exboyfriend.
The next day, we repeat. I spend the day unpacking, putting away dvds and futzing with the shower, she calls, and we go out drinking until we blame all of the wars on the Jews. Repeat for Saturday night.
Sunday night began the same way, but all night her ex was calling her and leaving really sad, apologetic voicemails. I leave for like, two minutes to go to the bathroom, and when I return, she's outside, having a cigarette and talking to him. She comes back inside and says "I think we're back together."
Now, it's not that they're a bad couple. I don't particularly like him, but he is a good boyfriend. It's just that the story of their breakup is so wonderful, and I wish they would have stayed broken up if only for the story.
The fight that lead to the breakup started at a welcome back party, everyone was kind of drunk. Somehow, they were talking about how they never really see the constellations anymore. The Republican mentions how that she always sees the big dipper on her way home from the bars, over the lake. No one believes her, and start making fun of her for not knowing where the big dipper is. She storms out and goes and finds the constellation, over the lake, and comes back and rubs it in everyone's face. Later that night, it escalates into "You should have trusted me" and "Why do you take everything so seriously?"
The next day, they break up. Three days later they get back together, but still. They broke up over astronomy. That's so wonderful.
Two weeks of drinking, casual sex (for the first time in my life, I can host!) and all you can eat chinese buffet until school starts. Life is good.
I drove down Thursday, and I picked out my room. I'm on the top floor, with picture windows and an awesome view of the capital. Below me is the apartment model, which means I don't have to worry about spontaneous dance parties or jumping up and down with glee that Bush's approval rating have gone down again. Unfortunately, being on the top floor of the building, on the east side, with huge picture windows, is that by 7:30 in the morning my room is brighter than an overachieving Asian.
I'm unpacking, putting up posters and setting up my tv (new from my birthday) and my new laptop (so sexy!) and as I plugged in my tv, I blew a fuse. Within ten minutes of being in my new place, I was stuck without electricity. I was not pleased. I made the necessary phone calls, and found out that the guy with the key to the fuse box lives out of town, and it would take until about 9 that night for him to get into town and flip the little switch. I'd just have to wait until then.
I started calling people I knew were in town already, trying both to find something to do and find someone to take all the refrigerated goods my parents bought me before they dropped me off. I called my new best friend the Republican, who dates one of my roommates from sophomore year and we both really like judging people. I left a message, and she called back a few minutes later to tell me that she had just broken up with her boyfriend, with whom she was staying until school started because her lease didn't start until September 1st. I didn't find a place for my milk and yogurt, but I did get drafted to drink until we blamed all of the world's problems on the Jews. Unfortunately, her ex is a Jew from New York who kept kosher, so instead of being topical and clever it sounded kind of anti-semitic.
We went out drinking, and had a good time at a dueling pianos bar. We had started drinking around 7 because she needed to get her mind off of things, so by 9 we were those loud people at the front who really got into it while everyone else was still on their first or second drink.
Around midnight, as we were about to leave to go to another bar, who should show up but her ex, hanging out with some people he didn't really like but he often used their car. It was incredibly awkward, but at least he was hanging out with people he didn't like and appeared to not be having a good time. That always helps. Then we went out and ordered bacon-cheeseburgers, because that is how she spites her kosher exboyfriend.
The next day, we repeat. I spend the day unpacking, putting away dvds and futzing with the shower, she calls, and we go out drinking until we blame all of the wars on the Jews. Repeat for Saturday night.
Sunday night began the same way, but all night her ex was calling her and leaving really sad, apologetic voicemails. I leave for like, two minutes to go to the bathroom, and when I return, she's outside, having a cigarette and talking to him. She comes back inside and says "I think we're back together."
Now, it's not that they're a bad couple. I don't particularly like him, but he is a good boyfriend. It's just that the story of their breakup is so wonderful, and I wish they would have stayed broken up if only for the story.
The fight that lead to the breakup started at a welcome back party, everyone was kind of drunk. Somehow, they were talking about how they never really see the constellations anymore. The Republican mentions how that she always sees the big dipper on her way home from the bars, over the lake. No one believes her, and start making fun of her for not knowing where the big dipper is. She storms out and goes and finds the constellation, over the lake, and comes back and rubs it in everyone's face. Later that night, it escalates into "You should have trusted me" and "Why do you take everything so seriously?"
The next day, they break up. Three days later they get back together, but still. They broke up over astronomy. That's so wonderful.
Two weeks of drinking, casual sex (for the first time in my life, I can host!) and all you can eat chinese buffet until school starts. Life is good.
August 14, 2006
Blepharoplasty, Here I Come!
It is getting to be that time of the year again, and so I thought I would look through some textbooks to find the definitive definition of dark circles under the eyes. However, I haven't bought any textbooks for fall yet, and even when I do, the only medical terminology that will be referenced is possibly that Very Special Episode of Saved by the Bell where Jessie takes caffeine pills to increase her studying potential (yay for TV literacy!)
But trust me. There are bags under my eyes, like something out of Pom Poko.
The past few days, in bullet point format, with unnecessary italics.
• At least my grandfather can no longer snarkily say that I've never done an honest day's work in my life. I have now done approximately four. I wish we lived closer to the border so we would have more cheap undocumented laborers available to climb onto the roof and nail things down for 6 or 7 hours a day. That way I wouldn't have to.
• My last day of work was Saturday. I spent the morning on the roof, finishing up the top two rows, then changed and went to work. We finished a promotion giveaway thing, and I was supposed to spend my last day sitting at a table and handing out giftcards to people who have collected enough points. Instead, three people called in sick, and so not only was I actually forced to do work, I was forced to stay an extra three hours and close the store (well, not forced, since the overtime will be nice, but there wasn't anyone else available and trained to close the store). After the store quieted down around 10:30, I pulled out a chair from the back and read magazines near my register, since what are they going to do--fire me?
• I was awakened, rudely, at six the next morning by my mother-- We forgot to get balloons for your sister's Grad party! Due to my father's health, we had to forgo her grad party, so it was combined with an 'end of summer' party for her friends. We rented out a pavilion at my sister's favorite park, and since planning parties are what my people do best, I was de facto Party Planner. (Actually, no one said that, but I am the most Martha Stewart of the family, and was in charge of most of the preparation). It was kid themed (Even though she's off to college, she doesn't have to grow up yet!) with retro Disney posters, Kids Karaoke, hula-hoops and Skip-Its!, child-friendly food like bug juice, brownies with gummie worms in them, cupcakes, etc. We did not forget the balloons, it's just that we didn't need enough to order ahead; we were going to just pick them up that morning. But we didn't need to pick them up at 6 in the morning.
The party went fine, though it ended up being me frantically placing tables, arranging posters, setting up the food, ordering people to get more ice, damnit! for most of the morning, and then spending most of the party sitting around feeling awkward, listening to my mom chat with her friends since I didn't know any of my sister's friends, and none of them were cute 18 year old boys anyway. Then, during cleanup, I stepped on a broken bottle and cursed my life.
On the bright side, things can only improve this week.
• I move! I have a cute little efficiency only a few buildings from State St, and my lease begins tomorrow. However, half of the city will be moving into new digs, and hell hath no fury like move-in day for the largest university in the country. Also, I'm not entirely sure when I'll have a car this week, so I may not move in until Wednesday or Thursday. But still! The end of living at home is in sight!
• I buy a laptop! My sister is inheriting my old computer for when she moves into the dorms, and I'm buying a fancy new laptop today and it is going to be teh s3xx0r!
• Once I get to school, I can indulge in all of my vices! I can fall head-over-heels for guys I sleep with once, write fawning posts about them, and then get crushed! I can spend hours in the gay.com chatrooms and then feel lame about wasting an evening! I can surf for porn on real internet; no more more of this dial-up shit. I can get really bad gay movies (i.e. pseudo softcore gay porn) from Netflix and not have to worry about my mom getting the mail! I live next door to a sketchy all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet! I can drink until I blame all of the wars on God's chosen people!
But trust me. There are bags under my eyes, like something out of Pom Poko.
The past few days, in bullet point format, with unnecessary italics.
• At least my grandfather can no longer snarkily say that I've never done an honest day's work in my life. I have now done approximately four. I wish we lived closer to the border so we would have more cheap undocumented laborers available to climb onto the roof and nail things down for 6 or 7 hours a day. That way I wouldn't have to.
• My last day of work was Saturday. I spent the morning on the roof, finishing up the top two rows, then changed and went to work. We finished a promotion giveaway thing, and I was supposed to spend my last day sitting at a table and handing out giftcards to people who have collected enough points. Instead, three people called in sick, and so not only was I actually forced to do work, I was forced to stay an extra three hours and close the store (well, not forced, since the overtime will be nice, but there wasn't anyone else available and trained to close the store). After the store quieted down around 10:30, I pulled out a chair from the back and read magazines near my register, since what are they going to do--fire me?
• I was awakened, rudely, at six the next morning by my mother-- We forgot to get balloons for your sister's Grad party! Due to my father's health, we had to forgo her grad party, so it was combined with an 'end of summer' party for her friends. We rented out a pavilion at my sister's favorite park, and since planning parties are what my people do best, I was de facto Party Planner. (Actually, no one said that, but I am the most Martha Stewart of the family, and was in charge of most of the preparation). It was kid themed (Even though she's off to college, she doesn't have to grow up yet!) with retro Disney posters, Kids Karaoke, hula-hoops and Skip-Its!, child-friendly food like bug juice, brownies with gummie worms in them, cupcakes, etc. We did not forget the balloons, it's just that we didn't need enough to order ahead; we were going to just pick them up that morning. But we didn't need to pick them up at 6 in the morning.
The party went fine, though it ended up being me frantically placing tables, arranging posters, setting up the food, ordering people to get more ice, damnit! for most of the morning, and then spending most of the party sitting around feeling awkward, listening to my mom chat with her friends since I didn't know any of my sister's friends, and none of them were cute 18 year old boys anyway. Then, during cleanup, I stepped on a broken bottle and cursed my life.
On the bright side, things can only improve this week.
• I move! I have a cute little efficiency only a few buildings from State St, and my lease begins tomorrow. However, half of the city will be moving into new digs, and hell hath no fury like move-in day for the largest university in the country. Also, I'm not entirely sure when I'll have a car this week, so I may not move in until Wednesday or Thursday. But still! The end of living at home is in sight!
• I buy a laptop! My sister is inheriting my old computer for when she moves into the dorms, and I'm buying a fancy new laptop today and it is going to be teh s3xx0r!
• Once I get to school, I can indulge in all of my vices! I can fall head-over-heels for guys I sleep with once, write fawning posts about them, and then get crushed! I can spend hours in the gay.com chatrooms and then feel lame about wasting an evening! I can surf for porn on real internet; no more more of this dial-up shit. I can get really bad gay movies (i.e. pseudo softcore gay porn) from Netflix and not have to worry about my mom getting the mail! I live next door to a sketchy all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet! I can drink until I blame all of the wars on God's chosen people!
August 10, 2006
Macho Man
I am a big strong man. I cut the grass. I read the sports page (admittedly, articles like this). I am the breadwinner (admittedly, foccacia bread). I am a lumberjack and that's ok.
My grandfather, a former engineer for the government during WWII, stopped by our house a few days ago to visit for my birthday and to drop off some extra boxes. Making small talk in a catty sort of way, he asked if our insurance claims representative lived anywhere near our house. When we replied that we didn't know, he said that our roof was in such bad shape, we'd probably lose the insurance, and we should hope that he or she wouldn't have any errands to do in the area.
Fortunately, he was at a garage sale the next day, and picked up more than enough shingles to redo the roof for about $10. And, with two kids who are going to college in a month, now's not really the time for major house repairs.
It is, however, the time to recruit your sissyboy son to climb on the roof and do backbreaking labor.
I'm not sure that there's a computer font large enough to express my displeasure and pain in emoticon form, so you'll have to just imagine a large :( taking over the screen.
My grandfather, a former engineer for the government during WWII, stopped by our house a few days ago to visit for my birthday and to drop off some extra boxes. Making small talk in a catty sort of way, he asked if our insurance claims representative lived anywhere near our house. When we replied that we didn't know, he said that our roof was in such bad shape, we'd probably lose the insurance, and we should hope that he or she wouldn't have any errands to do in the area.
Fortunately, he was at a garage sale the next day, and picked up more than enough shingles to redo the roof for about $10. And, with two kids who are going to college in a month, now's not really the time for major house repairs.
It is, however, the time to recruit your sissyboy son to climb on the roof and do backbreaking labor.
I'm not sure that there's a computer font large enough to express my displeasure and pain in emoticon form, so you'll have to just imagine a large :( taking over the screen.
August 3, 2006
Zac Efron is so dreamy!
| You Should Be a Film Writer |
 You don't just create compelling stories, you see them as clearly as a movie in your mind. You have a knack for details and dialogue. You can really make a character come to life. Chances are, you enjoy creating all types of stories. The joy is in the storytelling. And nothing would please you more than millions of people seeing your story on the big screen! |
In Madison again, crashing at a different friend's house (to be specific, my Republican friend). Apartment showing is in a few hours, and now I'm trying to shake off last night's activity: turning High School Musical into a drinking game.
Also, I should mention that Zac is only dreamy in an "I bet his face would look amazing with my manjuice dripping off of it" sort of way.
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