ok, so last night was the definition of something completely out of the ordinary. what do you call being completely smashed and obnoxiously puking called: dumb blonde with weird psychology? no. you call a person like that ME.
So here goes, I hate work. I hate the job I do and the people i work with ona daily basis(or atleast some of them). This is only because of the preppy stuff that they talk about, the weird lingo I can’t seem to get and what-the-hell-is a smelly plant?! So I digress, the world is a big large bowl of soup eager to swallow me up into its mix of different people. But I’m on the rim people, I don’t wanna fall in and talk about lazy-eyed bullshit. It doesn’t interest me.
As a result of my anti-assimilation the office folk have decided that I am to be EXCLUDED from any in-office or out-of-office activities. Yes, I love my boss. David is my chum! His awesome and I’ll be working with him next semester in the University Within so its a relationship that I’m comfortable with. But he can’t get that the other people in the office are so clique-y and misunderstanding. The other day I was asked “do they have road sides where you live?” WTF?! OFCOURSE THEY DO you dumbshits.
I’m stressed out and I’m being paid minimum wage. IS THIS THE REST OF MY LIFE?in a bubble??
Putting people on a wait list just so that they can enter a class. It reminds me of when I was put on a wait list to enter MIT, geez ma-geez was that the most tedious time of my life. And Mutti kept screaming and fretting all over the place about it..
mutti, my dear dear mother…would she woop my black ass if I told her what went down last night. I got so drunk I could’nt touch the floor with my feet. I flew high like A G5 and blogged about it like a pimp on steroids. Ok, that doesn’t make sense..
But you get my point. I went for my first college campus party.
Now let’s just say this, when you’ve had a stressful day at work and you feel like a 40-something yr-old woman with no kids then you need some action. So Mike wasn’t there and god only knows how much I love that guy. That party was(in my opinion) the best medicine for a stressful day. It started of with a birthday girl attempting to play ping pong and other people hangin’ around waitin’ for the drinks to spill over. Thing is, I admire people and their innovation of fun. ping pong?cups?3 seats? interesting.
I felt out of place though, I did the whole princess thing in the beginning. Running away when I knew i really wanted to go see what was up with that place. It wasn’t bad. I had fun giving kisses to the bartender every time she made me a drink. no people, it was just a kiss on the cheek!thanks for the guess though
The drink had lemon juice and this vodka called Denaka Vodka(last time i checked). i liked it. Thing is, i don’t what the hell is up with me and alcohol when I get it. i’m like a fly to a light. I drink in excess!And I think i had 4 cups of that and some grape juice punch thing that made me totally bubbly. Let’s just say, it was a night well spent learning new things about college social life. People are not as boring as I thought, their just shy. But I won’t dispute some are bitches, some are boring and some even piss the hell of off me. But generally, there is a secret to college campus life:
You are your own keeper, you are the creator of your social circles and your academic hurdles.
I got out of the room just in time to wave hi to the RA who was about to (as they say) “shut this shit down”. I yoo-hoo’d and tootal-ooed back to my room only to sit on the couch and design it with my favorite colored puke whilst having a conversation with my suitemate. See, low resistance to alcohol. c’moon dramasque! If it’s the finale, let it be the finale! I cursed and thought about the god-damned grape-juice and oh, what a lovely time I had playing king with Glee Master and the other “pips”.
I new I had to clean up my hit and i felt extremely guilty about the whole escapade. Who does that anyway?! Goes to her first college party an comes back home to puke. It’s true what they say about revealing your dirty laundry in the home and not out of it. It reminds me of my 18th birthday..ah, it tis the memory that counts..
Dramasque can’t spend her 18th going to the club. She gets different presents. One of them being very cheap, very dirty looking, strong whisky. 750ml. Dramasque sits down when she gets home. Eats pizza. Drinks her birthday present NEAT. And my-oh-my there she goes again decorating the carpet with her puke. Mutti walks down. Drama!what the hell have you done to the carpet! Mutti shut up, it’s my 18th friggin’ birthday!
So, I should be an interior designer. but i’m a marketing major and i haven’t done shit today. Except for maybe, cleaned the floor and recapped my wonderful night with my roommate. probably later i’ll make the embarrassing phone call to Mike and let him know that the good side of me apologizes for the 7 voice mails and 5 phone calls.
Whatever will be, may be.