This is where my goal-setting starts to turn awry. When I was little I had numerous journals that I would write in. I would be really good and write in it every night before bed. But sometimes I'd get lazy and I'd skip a day, having to write even more in my next entry. A skipped day turned into a skipped 5 days, then 8 days, then 13 days, then a month and then I'd think to myself, "Fuck it. I don't need to write this shit down. I'm a kid! I'll just remember it!" Hah, yeah no.
I'd look through my old journals years later and look at what I wrote. God, I was so dumb and emo...always mad at friends who were mean to me ha. Sheesh, I was lame and I still am but instead of complaining to a journal about mean people, I poop on their lives - despite what I said in my last post about not doing so...but c'mon, it's not like they know who i'm talking about :)
Anywho, yeah so i'm trying not to get lazy with this shit. I wanna make this blog...EPIC ha. like this year but i don't know if that'll happen. We'll just have to wait and see and keep up with fluster nuggets.
So yesterday was my first day of work even though I've been working in the same student union for 3 years. And i was actually supposed to show up for work last monday even though classes didn't start until tuesday. Oops. My boss reminds me of Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh so he didn't mind that I didn't show up and if he did, he'd just say "It's Okay, Jules" in his Eeyore-esque voice. He's great.
The student union was poppin' like popcorn. Heaps of froshie babies and stupid sophomores were walking in and out and eating and laughing and looking afraid of college (the froshie babies). And i say stupid sophomores because when i was in high school the sophomore class my senior year was really obnoxious and thought they were the shit because they already dealt with the whole froshie baby experience and thought they ruled campus. Eat my buns, doucher pups.
But I had a lot of shit to do like move tables and get keys and open locked doors and point people in the direction of the cafeteria even though they were staring right fucking at it. But i did enjoy greeting people. I like that. Unless they're rude and mean. After a long day (4 hours) or work I had a lovely night class to look forward, which like my other Advertising night class, is gonna be fucking awesome. And I have it with pretty much the same people I had ad classes with. That's what I was told: once you finally start taking classes for your major, you start seeing the same people almost everyday. So it's good to know that I'm taking awesome classes with crazy thinkers like myself.
Mind you, I spent a good amount of time on campus: a solid 12 hours almost. Woof. And that was mostly thanks to not just my weirdo schedule but my special friend Sheila. She's a purple (specifically Black Currant) colored 1999 Honda Accord V6 two-door that my mom gave to me to drive to and from campus with this year. I live a trek away from school so a car is ideal to get there unless I wanna walk thru a well-known rape trail and corn stalks and get murdered by the children who live among those stalks but that's a risk i'm willing to take considering my fucking car likes to sunbathe in the heat. I swear this car hates my stinkin' guts. My madre didn't have to deal with her not starting - I mean, once in a blue moon but Sheila does not start for me when it's sunny out. Beyond pissed. On top of that my best friend...the golden nugget of all nuggets (her hair is blonde...when she maintains her "ruts") rushed to go to a class at her gym and left the front door completely...wide...open. I was in the shower when that happened. No big deal, a creepy man is waiting for me outside the bathroom with a machete waiting to cut me up and put me in a cooler and send me along an inlet of the Long Island Sound. Really, totally safe.
As for the debauchery part that occurred later that night made up for the shittay parts of the day. Granted, my car still refused to start in 64 degree weather when it was dark as night. Actually, it was dark as fuck outside considering it was 9:00pm. Fucking car. Anywho, we got shit sorted, got our fwiends who came with, got dolled up and were off for the city in a matter of 45 minutes. I looked rather sluticious in my floral..."shress" (shirt dress: its long enough to be a shirt/top but still almost safe to be a dress depending on how tall one is). We arrive within 20 minutes, avoiding waiting for trains and then having to find seats, and then dealing with little college babies being ridiculous and loud and uber excited about getting into a swank bar in the city without having to have a decent fake. I haaaate people.
When I speak of we, I'm talking about two male companions who know how to kick butt in the field and our friend who had her period that night. Oh, and my best friend. Duh. We were lucky enough to find parking a block away from the bar. The reasons why it was going to be so poppin' Thursday night was because 1) it was the first (thirsty) Thursday of the school year AND 2) it was the last Thursday said bar would be open. Yes, unfortunately the bar we frequented when we were little babies was closing its doors after the weekend.
We heard through the grape vine that the bar was already crowded by 9:30pm, most likely with people who were afraid they wouldn't get in and people who didn't wanna wait to get sloshed. The line was really long outside but we only had to wait in it for about 15 minutes :) And when I say "we" this time, I'm speaking of myself, my best friend, and our friend who had her period that night. We all did stunts guest bartending at this place and the manager walked out to take a lookie look at who was in line and found us 3 stooges, pointed, and said "You three, come with me." Damn, I felt so hot. Then that feeling fizzled out when I saw stupid girls acting really dumb inside with drinks spilling all over the floor. I think I know who to thank for the slipperyness and stickiness. Bitches.
All in all, great success. The bar was crowded as fuck as elbows fought their way there just to be served. However, the biffle and I casually stayed quiet and waited for bartenders to come to us. Which they did, and we didn't have to pay cent. Great success. Although, a word of advice to stupid underage raggamuffins: If you get into a bar no problem and you get served alcohol before you're of age to even sip on a hard lemonade, fucking tip the bartenders. They could easily slide you a cranberry & vodka like you ordered but juice it up and have you acting like a dumb fool off of sober juice. Don't be stupid and cheap.
Oh, and another thing...I realized that when I go out now that I came back from Australia (more on that next time), getting drunk is a lot different then it used to be. Nowadays, I won't feel drunk until I get home and it finally hits me like an 18-wheeler. Double woof.
No comments:
Post a Comment