Last night, I apologized to this kid down the hallway who I once drunk dialed and told him that I never wanted to speak to him again and that his girlfriend was a banshee bitch. But it was a pretty poorly constructed apology, since I told him that he "lacks social graces" and that his girlfriend should never be let out during the full moon. But it's the thought that counts, right?
When I was a little girl, I lived in a house right next to Dyke Stadium (later renamed "Ryan Field" for the sake of lesbians everywhere), where Northwestern University holds its football games. Since we lived so close, I got hella ca$h by holding lemonade/apple cider stands in my front yard, because I paid the co$t to be the bo$$. But on this day, I was chilling on my front steps, enjoying a cherry popsicle (I would rub it all over my mouth to make lipstick), pigtails and clad in Limited Too. And then a couple of drunk college students came wandering from their local tailgating party over to my house. And this guy whipped out his dick and pissed on the tree in my front yard, completely oblivious to my cherry popsicled self.
It's weird, I just remembered this a couple weeks ago. PTSD?
I wonder if there's a reason why this happened to me. I must have pissed someone off a lot in a past life or something. I can't stop thinking about how retarded I must have been to let it happen. Maybe I did deserve it.
I thought I was smart
I thought I was right
I thought it better not to fight
I thought there was a virtue, in always being cool
So it came time to fight
I thought "I'll just step aside"
And that the time will prove you wrong
And that you would be a fool
I don't know where the sunbeams end
And the starlight begins
It's all a mystery
My computer's being wack-a-mole right now and a lot of letters are only showing up white on white. I am in Biology lecture and I usually don't bring my computer along because I dunno, there's something to be said for hand-written notes, but I have to write a three page paper on Post Traumatic Stress Disorder by 5 pm. I also am a nosy motherfucker and always look at what people are doing on their computers. Once, there was this sketchy skinny white boy with bifocals and a G-Unit oversized shirt who A number one) had a VENTI STRAWBERRY PINK AS A MY LITTLE PONY'S HAIR Frappachino drink in one hand and was doing Text Twist with the other. I see that kid all the time, man. I think he was the one who spend over $600 on phone sex hotlines from his dorm room. I'm really afraid I might crash soon when I still have to go to Environmental Justice class and find references and edit this stupid paper. My mouth is as dry as a fucking dried ass apricot on a desert island that's been rolling around in paper towels. I don't give no fuck about recessive alleles. This weekend was probably the worst of my entire life, because, let's face it, when it rains, it pours. Too bad Fat Joe didn't incorporate that old saying into his smash hit "Make It Rain."
Look at a picture, they're always fun to see:
It is a little frightening that I lost the three basically most important material objects in my life right now.
1. My cell phone. I have terrible separation anxiety surrounding my cell phone. It is vital to my survival. If I lose it like in my tiny ass room I freAK out and have someone call it everytime. And now it's out there in the holistic great wide Earth.
2. My id card. This gets me meals and allows me access to my dorm and more or less qualifies me as a student.
3. My brand new winter coat (I am assuming that my cell phone and id card are in one of the million pockets it has). I live in like the mountains. This is some Into The Wild, Discovery Channel bullshit show on the untouched by society parts of the world, mf wildnerness. Like my house is in the mountains. Out there, it's cold as Santa Claus's tit if he had frostbite and had to skin reindeer for coats of warmth, including Rudolf's (typo but I like it) red nose as a button. Also I literally just received this beautiful coat in the mail on Thursday. (Thanks Dad.)
The reason why this is so frightening is because I never, ever, ever lose this shit. I have this ritual with myself before I leave any party slightly/moderately/extremely intoxicated where I CHECK to make sure I didn't leave anything behind. I will make sure I have my cell phone and my id card and wearing a coat is pretty standard for Colorado nights in November.
The fact that I didn't check for these and also
1. That I woke up still drunk
2. That I do not remember going home
3. That I do not remember where I went after that last frat
is scary to me.
