The Beginning of the Blog Disaster

(Originally written on April 30, 2009)

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Every semester, the Friday that would normally be the last day of classes is set aside as “Reading Day”, a day during which all classes are cancelled with the intention that students hole themselves up in the library or SLC (which stands for Student Learning Center for those of you who are not familiar with this abbreviation) to study for the final exams that lie ahead of them.  Naturally, this makes Thursday the last day of classes – however, the class schedule on this Thursday is as it would be if it were a Monday.  I believe this is done because classes are most often cancelled on Mondays in lieu of holidays (e.g., Labor Day, MLK, Jr. Day, Memorial Day, etc…).

Anyways, yesterday’s (Wednesday) class schedule was as usual, so, basically, we had our MW (abbreviation for Monday/Wednesday) classes three out of the four days this week.  Today I turned in two final projects:  one for each of the classes I have on MW (which are both taught by the same prof).  He’s a pretty smart guy in figuring that we were all going to procrastinate on both of our projects, even though we had the entire semester to do them.  So, instead of having regular class yesterday, he made it optional to come to the classroom during normal class hours to ask any questions about our projects that we may have still had remaining.

Scarlet and I decided to go to our first class promptly at 9:30am so that we could go ahead and get our questions asked early and then resume our analysis and report writing (the questions we had were important to get answered before proceeding so not to waste time and effort doing work that was incorrect).  By 10am or so, we had gotten all of those questions addressed.  Scarlet went home, but I instead decided to go to Polly’s and resume working on my projects so that I could still conveniently go back to campus for the second class period later – just in case I had any other vital questions arise.

By around noon, I ended up having gotten everything done except the proofreading of the write-ups, which I decided I was just going to get up early and do this morning.  Just about five minutes after making this decision, Sly ended up coming in early for his bartending shift and he joined me in drinking the afternoon away.  Working behind the bar at this point were Kip, Shooter, and Cranberry (Shooter’s smiley-er older brother).

I’ve met Cranberry a handful of times, but I was drunk every time, so I couldn’t remember his name.  Thus, I decided to “re-introduce” myself and everything was all “oh, it’s nice to officially re-meet you” and whatnot.  HOWEVER, about a half-hour later Cranberry approached me with the following question:

Oooh – are you the girl with the blog?

I mean, a lot of people have blogs these days…that’s a kinda odd question to ask someone you just “met”.  With a skeptic look on my face I replied,

Yea…I have a blog…

You’re the one who uses Disney names for people, right?

Once more, I was taken aback.  How could this guy – that I don’t really even know – know that about me?  Again, I skeptically replied,

Yea…

Oh, that’s some juicy stuff!

I was MORTIFIED.  I was completely comfortable posting such intimate details of my life on the internet for all to see because everything was anonymous.  But now that comfort of being protected under a blanket of secrecy was all gone.  My mind was swarming with questions.  How does he know about my blog?  If he knows, who all else knows?  OH MY GOD…DOES GASTON KNOW?

I sat there in shock for a couple of minutes with all of this flowing through my mind.  I mean, this could potentially change the nature of a majority of my friendships.  Not just that, but people I don’t even know (but I know who they are and visa-versa) may have unfavorable impressions of me and think they know me and who I am (I mean, this is obviously me, but not the “me” that I openly project to the general public).  Who knows how far the reverberations from this can extend?

Meanwhile, Sly kept pleading, “Juicy stuff?!  I want to read this blog!  I mean, Cranberry’s read it – and you had to ask me what his name was earlier!”

There was only one person (other than Scarlet, who doesn’t hang out with the Polly’s crowd anyway) who knew about my blog’s exact web address:  Yuengling.  I mean, everyone knows that I have a blog, but they also know that I want to keep it anonymous.  Here’s how he found out:  one afternoon at Polly’s, probably between my classes on a Monday or Wednesday, Yuengling stumbled upon me posting an entry and asked me what I was doing.  He caught me off-guard (I had probably consumed a few beers and was off my A-game) and I told him it was my blog – BUT I made him swear to secrecy, never to tell anyone.  He was the only possible leak.

At the moment, the only way to find out if Yuengling was, in fact, the culprit was to ask Cranberry.

How do you know about my blog?

Slim was showing it to me just the other night.

How the hell does Slim know (Slim works in the kitchen at Polly’s, by the way)?  And how long ago was the web address of my blog released to the public?  …Cranberry said “the other night”…  And if Slim casually showed my blog to Cranberry, who all else did he inform?

I asked the other bartenders if they knew.

• Kip:  yes.
• Shooter:  yes.
• Voodoo:  yes.

I immediately called and texted Yuengling.  A couple of times, actually.  No response.

Once I got back from Polly’s, I dropped my stuff off in my apartment, deleted my blog from the internet, and went downstairs to see what the neighbors were up to.  Gaston, Napoleon, and Leto were all chilling in Gaston’s and Napoleon’s apartment watching TV.  After sitting down next to Gaston, I announced, “Oh my god, everyone at Polly’s knows about my blog and has read it.  Yuengling must have told them – he’s the only one who knew.  But oh well, I’ve taken it down anyways.”  Not a word in response from either of the three of them.  I just figured this was because they were deeply absorbed into whatever it was that they were watching on TV.

When the show ended, Gaston and Leto headed for downtown and I headed up to bed.  Yuengling still hadn’t called or texted me back. To me, this silence was an immediate admission of guilt.  All afternoon and night I awaited his explanation and got nothing.

…until this afternoon.  I received an e-mail from Yuengling (not sure how he found my e-mail address…).  An e-mail.  In it, he basically put all the blame on me and said that other people also knew about my blog without him telling them.  Okay…and how is that possible, exactly – given that it contained nothing identifiable as either myself or any of the others that I wrote about? Anyways, he claimed that Slim was the only person he told and that it happened accidentally:  Yuengling had been looking at my blog on his phone’s internet browser; Slim asked to borrow said phone;  Yuengling handed it over; Slim asked what was up on the browser; Yuengling told him.  This, of course, happened at Polly’s (Yuengling basically lives there, he’s there every day and night, literally) and Yuengling claimed it was a drunk slip-up and that he didn’t even remember it happened until I asked about it.  Okay, we all make stupid drunken mistakes.  Whatever.  I just wish he could have told me right after it happened.

Later on this afternoon, I ran into Leto on my way to our apartment “pool” (pool in quotes because it’s so small it can easily be confused with a puddle).  We talked for a few minutes and I expressed my concern about my blog’s discovery.  Then she tells me that she has known about my blog for about a week.  Why didn’t she say something last night when I mentioned it? The next question out of my mouth:  “Does Gaston know about it?”  She says he doesn’t.  phew! Then, oddly enough, she tells me,

Don’t take this the wrong way, but you actually write really well.  I was surprised.

I mean, I’ll take a compliment, but said this in a really authoritative way, with an air of “I’m smarter than you”.  Let’s see here, I do have a Bachelor’s degree and am about to have my Master’s – she doesn’t even have a Bachelor’s degree!  What would make her think…ahh whatever. Well at least someone said something that wasn’t directed toward the “juicy” nature of the content.

I have a feeling that, even though I’ve taken care of removing my blog from the internet, I haven’t seen the end of the reverberations from this.  All I can do now is wait and see…

Rampant Miscellany

(Originally written on April 23, 2009)

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Graduation from my Master’s program is less than a month away and Beast and Martyr keep asking me what I want.  First, allow me to share with you what happened with last year’s graduation present:

The deal has always been that I would get a new car upon graduating from college.  I drive a 2001 Nissan Altima that I got when I turned 16.  Yes, I turned 16 in 2001, but Beast, being his frugal self, got a great deal on it.  It had been some dude’s business car for a year – so, considering it was only one year old (since the 2001 models were released in 2000), it had a lot of miles on it…hence, the “deal”.  Okay, so anyways, when I graduated last May I didn’t need a new car since I was staying here for another year and my little Altima runs great. *  In lieu of this, I instead got $1,000 (which – hey – I’m not complaining, something’s better than nothing!) and Beast got a brand new motorcycle for himself.  I just felt a little jipped, that’s all.

*  Random memory/thought triggered:  I’ve never been one to name my car.  However, in high school my best friend (at the time) and I decided that we thought that my emergency break looked like a penis and that we needed to name it something appropriate.  We decided that Newt was a very fitting, penis-sounding name.  I still refer to it as Newt to this day!

Back to what I want for graduation…  It’s hard to ask for anything until I know what I’m going to be doing with my life.  Whenever I eventually find a job and depending on where it is, I might not need a car.  Martyr is insistent upon doing a mother-daughter massage.  Whatever, that’s cool.  Other than that, though, I think I want an iPod touch.  Chip and Dale are graduating this May too (from high school).  I asked Dale what he thought.  He liked the idea and thinks he’s going to ask for the same thing.  Good deal.

Speaking of job uncertainty, I was supposed to have heard from the HR chick at Bacchus on Monday.  Still no call.

In order to become better acquainted with the wine business processes and Bacchus’s products in general, Beast helped me set up a “shadowing”, if you will, for this Friday. I will be going around with one of the wine salesmen from his distributorship for the day.  I’m definitely looking forward to expanding my knowledge about my beloved wine and its industry, BUT this is going to require a full day’s work starting at 7 in the morning!  I mean, not wake up at 7am, but be there and ready-to-go at 7am.  That is going to be rough…

•     •     •     •     •

I FULLY COMPLETED the campus newspaper crossword yesterday ALL ON MY OWN!  Woo-hoo!  I knocked it out in record speed:  all of it during my one-hour-and-fifteen-minute class while also paying some attention and taking notes.  It was a mini-achievement for me.

•     •     •     •     •

I had a test a couple of weeks ago in a class that is utterly pointless.  Just yesterday, I picked it up from my campus box, only to realize that I scored a 75 on it.  Wow.  My “I just don’t give a shit about school anymore” attitude has drastic effects.  My GPA is a 4.0.  Guess I won’t be holding onto that for the remainder of my education…  And I still don’t care.

I’m over it.  The entire school deal in all.  I am just ready to be done with it and enter the real world.

•     •     •     •     •

Upon getting back to the apartment after class Tuesday, I paid a visit to Gaston.  He was in his boxers, just being lazy and lying in bed.  It turned me on a little, not gonna lie.  So I laid with him for a bit and tried to coax him into hooking up. Yes, I actually had to persuade him to have sex.  This went on for quite some time.  At one point he said it wouldn’t be as fun because he was already practically naked, besides the fact that he had errands that he needed to run.  Then, at some slightly later point, he ended up just putting on a pair of shorts.  Then he took a call from Bluto.  This was my window of opportunity.

I started kissing down his chest and stomach…he made no effort to stop me (he had laid back down with me on his bed).  I proceeded to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his shorts – he hadn’t even zipped them up!  I then slid off both his shorts and his boxers.  He still had made absolutely no effort to stop any of this, by the way.  And then I started going down on him (yes, while he was on the phone with Bluto).  It was quite entertaining, actually.  He couldn’t hardly get out a complete thought and Bluto asked him what was wrong (I have a huge grin on my face right now).

Needless to say, he gave in – yet he warned me it wouldn’t last very long since I had been “playing with [him]” – yes, those were his actual words – for 10 minutes already.  Then once I got the condom, he just went straight to it!  I was like, “What?  No warm up for me?”  And he brought up the errands he needed to run again.  Anyways, he lasted longer than I expected, given his warning.

Then, as soon as I got on top of him, my nose started bleeding.  He happened to have a roll of toilet paper right there because of his allergies.  So…he ended up cumming while I had a wad of toilet paper sticking up/out of my nose…  One of the weirdest, most awkward experiences of my life – and you know how I feel about awkward!

Looking back, he took up just about as much time bitching about his errands leading up to sex as it took for us from start to finish.  The deal was:  if he had sex with me, I would go with him to run his errands.  We ended up going to a drive-up ATM to get his account balance and then to the grocery store, where he just got Fudge Rounds, Andoille sausage (apparently he’s making Jumbalaya for me sometime soon), and Gatorade.  Seriously, that was it for his errands.

Stepping back a bit to when we were debating having sex:  Gaston revealed to me that he doesn’t like kissing – he doesn’t dislike/hate it, but he doesn’t like it.  WHAT?!  I don’t even know how to verbalize my feelings about that right now.

•     •     •     •     •

I had an appointment with Angel Tuesday for the first time in a while (my shrink suggested I see him since I was under so much stress and experiencing so much anxiety).  I told him about my worries about school/finding a job/not having health insurance once I graduate and he went on about those for a while.  I mean, yes, I’m worried (at least, somewhat) about all of those things, but I realize at this point that all I can do is take them as they come.

Then, we got onto the topic of my love/dating life.  Here we go…

I told him about the whole Gaston situation and why he won’t make our relationship official.  Angel then asked me a few questions that I never saw coming.

From what you’ve told me about Gaston, your relationship with him reminds me a lot of your relationship with X.  I keep hearing more and more negatives.  Why are you still dealing with Gaston? What do you actually like about him?

Wow.  This threw me for a loop.  My immediate response:  “He’s nice; he’s…” and I went on.

Okay.  “Nice”.  When I was in a sorority and going through rush, we thought of “nice” as an adjective we only used to describe a girl that was either just okay or had northing great/memorable/outstanding about her.

Even now I see myself trying to block this out of my mind.

Then Angel asked me,

Why are you doing this?  How does it make you feel that he won’t make the relationship ‘official’?

Honestly, I know what I want:  a relationship (obviously), and I would (I think, at least) really enjoy one with Gaston.  BUT – I realize that I may be moving somewhere new and far away once I find a job:  so I’m hesitant to start a relationship just in time to move far, far away.

Am I just making excuses?  Just to cope with Gaston’s unwillingness to commit?

Angel suggested that I sit down with Gaston and talk about it – which I would love to do, but Gaston does continually remind me of how he only thinks about the “here and now” and doesn’t look into the future.  I just feel like that’s all I would get out of that conversation.

I also talked with Angel about X.  I’ve been thinking lately about getting together to talk to him (X) about working on becoming friends.  My intentions here are mainly so that I can work on moving on – not just for Gaston, but for me and the rest of my potential love life.

One night a couple of weeks ago or so, I was upset (and probably slightly drunk…yea, chances are pretty high) and going to bed.  All the things I wanted to say to X were flooding my mind.  In order to get them out of my mind and to ensure that I would remember them, I got out of bed and wrote X a letter addressing my feelings and concerns:

X –

To be perfectly honest, I feel insulted that the first thing you always ask me about it my cats.  I mean, even if you didn’t know me (which you kinda don’t anymore), you would at least ask me about the whole job thing.

You and what’s-her-face can get over the whole “me dating again” thing.  Because, just like I told you a while ago, it may be YEARS before I even date again – IF I ever even do.  You can have full confidence in the fact that I am over you; HOWEVER, I am not over what you did to me, and I may never be.

Please, at least give me the opportunity to be your friend – both of your friends.  That is the only way I can foresee myself getting on with my life.

BUT – if you prefer to remain strangers, please let me know.

I mean, I am jobless and have no idea how I can possibly get out of this town and out of your hair.  We can’t ignore this forever.

Elliott

Now, I know it comes across really bitchily, but I think I phrased it well.  I told Angel that I was thinking about meeting with X in person and handing him the letter so that I wouldn’t have to worry about forgetting to say anything and I would be there to let him know that I honestly didn’t mean it in a rude way, that I just didn’t know how to better phrase it.

Angel convinced me that it would make X defensive and that I shouldn’t hand him the letter, even if I’m right there.  Instead, he suggested that when I meet with X I bring the letter with me for reminder purposes, but that I should just talk through it with him in a less offensive manner.  This made sense – I think I was under the impression that it would be easier to do it the way I had originally planned.

•     •     •     •     •

Talk about timing, I ended up setting up a meeting with X later that afternoon for that very evening (still Tuesday) – dinner and drinks.

Surprisingly, “How are your cats?” wasn’t his first question for me, it was probably his sixth or so.  I jested,

I’m actually surprised that my cats weren’t the first thing you asked me about.

He smiled and did one of those mini-laughs.

Really?  I guess since I’ve gotten my dog it’s just something that I talk about more.

Okay, I’ll take that.

I then brought up the whole friend thing and, surprisingly, he told me that his girlfriend had told him that she would like to meet me as well.  Wow.  I had thought that she hated my guts.

All in all, the meeting was a success and we’ll just have to wait and see how things move along.

•     •     •     •     •

Once I got back from meeting with X, I joined Napoleon and Gaston for the end of American Idol.  The plan was to go out.  They both needed to shower and then Gaston asked me if I would iron his khakis and a button-down shirt for him.  Napoleon then barked out, “Yea, woman, aren’t you supposed to be domesticated?”  Whatever, it’s not like I was doing anything else wile they were showering.  BUT THEN – Gaston didn’t even end up wearing the shirt – and that’s what was such a pain in the ass to iron!  Oh well, I quickly got over it.

Then Rowdy came over and we all played Name-That-Song-and-Artist-Power-Hour.  We continued doing this while waiting on Snoopy.  Gaston had told him to come over and we would leave for downtown at 11pm.  Turns out, Snoopy thought he meant “come over” at 11pm.  Then, he was late even for that time because he decided to run through Taco Bell on his way over.  Then, we had to wait for him to eat once he got there!  Dear god, it ended up turning into Power-Two-and-a-Half-Hours!

Needless to say, I had gotten pretty drunk, so once we got to Polly’s I just drank water.

When It Rains, It Pours

(Originally written on March 24, 2009)

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The past few days have been a bit, well, out-of-whack for me.  In a bad way.

Usually, I play trivia on Sunday nights with Gaston, Napoleon, Rowdy, and crew.  This Sunday, though, I skipped it because I was studying for the two tests I was supposed to have had yesterday.  Yesterday morning, I woke up around 4:50am in order to get some (okay, maybe a lot) last minute cramming in.  Scarlet picked me up because Flower-Child, the scatter-brained classmate that normally takes me to class, called to tell me she couldn’t take me – but it was okay because I got that all worked out.  After parking and grabbing a campus paper (I strictly pick one up every day for the puzzles:  one crossword and one Sudoku), a woman from the Marketing Department stopped us to let us know that the professor was having heart issues and that our tests were postponed until Wednesday (tomorrow).  We were in disbelief.  Don’t get me wrong, I hope the prof is doing well health-wise, but that wasn’t exactly the best way to start off the week.

I was cracked out on coffee and had absolutely nothing to do.  I was in the vicinity of Polly’s and decided to head there, even though it was only 10am at this point and figured they weren’t open yet.  They weren’t, but they were there prepping for opening for the day and they let me in to just chill.

I hung out there until Gaston swung by and picked me up to watch 24 (I don’t really watch any TV show regularly, but he does, and 24 and American Idol are his picks).   Once it was over, we finally had sex for the first time in nearly two weeks – needless to say, it was very, um…brief.

By the way, I’m an insomniac and I normally take sleeping pills before bed at night in order to remain holding on to my sanity.  However, I didn’t feel like running up to my apartment to get them and figured I might be okay since I had been awake since 4:50am and had been drinking all day.  Boy was I wrong!  Of course, by the time I noticed this, it was too late.  And it doesn’t help that Gaston has to have the TV on in order to fall asleep, which keeps me alert and awake, of course.  This has happened before, but he specifically let me know last night before we went to bed that he didn’t feel like cuddling – to which I obliged.  So I was laying there, flipping from being too hot to too cold and back again, and feeling like a creeper just laying there staring at him…

Eventually (around 4:30am), I decided I’d just go upstairs and hop in my own bed.  I drifted in (barely) and out of sleep for about two hours when construction work started (yes, at 6:30am!) in the lot right outside my bedroom window.  By 8:30m, which is when I was originally intending on waking up, I had a monstrous migraine.

At this point, I was already contemplating skipping class.  BUT, I then decide to roll over and check my BlackBerry for e-mails.  Sure enough, the one message awaiting me is from the company I had a second interview with about two weeks ago, “[regretting] to inform [me] that [they] have decided not to extend an offer of employment at this time.”  It was confirmed:  class was out.

Two minutes later, I receive a call from Gaston, who is never up that early.  His Jeep has been in the shop, so he’s been driving his mom’s Cadillac…which wouldn’t start.  Normally, this may not have been that big of a deal, but he has to drive to the state capitol for a job interview on Thursday.  He needed me to jump him off.  Well, my jumper cables are really short and Gaston’s car was sandwiched between two others, one of which belongs to Napoleon (and the only car on that side of the Caddy).  So Gaston goes in, gets Napoleon’s keys, moves his car, and then I pull up to get everything set up.  The battery was completely dead.

Gaston insisted that he was going to go get the battery checked out right then and asked if he could borrow my car.  Letting him drive it with me in it is one thing, but I didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of just letting him take my car.  If anything were to happen, Beast and Martyr would have my head!  I have a terrible driving record (with outrageous insurance that they currently pay) and so does Gaston, and my parents are aware of it – he has shared with them the story of when he took a turn going 90 mph and collided with a house, knocking it off of its foundation!

Anyways, we get to Pep Boys and, even though it’s pretty much guaranteed that the battery is dead, Gaston has them check it just to be sure.  I had originally gone in with him, but the smell was going to cause me to either vomit, pass out, or both (migraine). So I waited in the car for about 15 minutes, when he comes out to tell me the test is going to take 45 minutes.  I was hungry, so we went down the street to Chick-Fil-A for some breakfast.

With only 20 minutes to go and almost immediately after we finished eating, we each receive a text from Napoleon asking if one of us had his keys.  Gaston goes, “We’ve got to take Napoleon his keys.  Hurry, because we need to be back at Pep Boys in 20 minutes!”  My first response being, “Does he actually need them right now?  Or does he just want to know where they are?”  This apparently didn’t matter, and we start driving back to the apartment.  Napoleon is gone when we get there – turns out he just needed to go to campus to get a transcript (which didn’t require having his keys).

Once we finally get back to Pep Boys, it is confirmed that the battery is dead.  But they don’t carry it, so we still had to find it somewhere else.  Ultimately, we happenstanced upon another car parts store down the street that, thankfully, carried the battery we needed.

The car still wouldn’t start after initially hooking it up.  So Gaston had to play mechanic for a little while.  Everything finally worked out and I was able to chill at noon.

What a day, huh?

Random Study Retirement Thoughts

(Originally written on March 22, 2009)

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So I officially can’t look at any more of this stuff tonight and am retiring to an early morning tomorrow.   I figured I’d lighten up from my recent posting patterns.

Quite a few interesting things came up last night:

• So, the other night after running into X at my friend’s band’s show, I handled it awfully.  I started crying and then my drunk ass sketched off and started walking home (at like 11:30pm).  Surprisingly, Gaston, Napoleon, Rowdy (Gaston’s cousin), and company left around 12am.  Turns out, Gaston was seriously about to throw down with X.  I mean, he literally called his buddies from back home in south Georgia and told them to come up to help him “take X out.”  Is it bad that this information made me happy?  When I asked him this question (via text, even though he was two people away from me, because everyone was around), he smiled and said “No.”  I guess I see it as a sign that he is getting closer to a possible relationship, with the whole possessiveness and everything.
• At Polly’s (the bar where we’re regulars) last night, Gaston kissed me in front of everyone (when I say “kiss”, by the way, I mean peck).  I mean, not just in front of whoever happened to be driving by at the time, like the other day – Napoleon, Rowdy, the bartenders, … people we know well.   This, of course, also made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
• So, Gaston is actually about a year older than me, but we are in the same “grade” (I guess another way of saying this is that we graduated from high school the same year).  Well, he is on the five-year graduation track in   college.At our University, at least, every fraternity has a huge theme party that lasts an entire week (he’s in a fraternity, we’ll call it XYZ), and last night he asked me,  “Will you be my date to [XYZ’s themed week-long party]?”  Of course I said yes!  It’s a huge deal that he actually used the word “date”, by the way.

Well, I better get to bed so that I don’t hate myself any more than necessary in the morning!

Storytelling 2

(Originally written on March 22, 2009)

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As I sit down to type today, Peabody is sprawled out on his back in a sun spot and Lilly is perched atop my shoulders.  Ah, I wish today could just be a lazy Sunday…

So to revisit stories from yesterday:  When I was roofied back in April, long story short, I reported the incident.  The morning after, I was suspicious and immediately went to get a drug test.  It came back positive for PCP.  After viewing the security tape, we ended up finding out that it was, in fact, the older guy at the bar that I had suspected.  BUT, he paid with cash and the bartender didn’t recognize him as a regular.

I also reported my rape immediately after it happened, and that investigation is still under way.  We actually know who the guy is, but he is denying it and the detective on my case is a bit of an idiot.  I don’t feel like talking about this particular story at this point in time, so I will revisit it later.

I really just want to stress that, even though it’s painful and humiliating to have to relive such a traumatic event, IT IS SO IMPORTANT THAT YOU REPORT RAPE AND RAPE-RELATED INCIDENTS – IF FOR NO OTHER REASON, TO POSSIBLY PREVENT IT FROM HAPPENING TO SOMEONE ELSE.  Even though, for example, the guy who roofied me is unidentifiable, by reporting my incident, the police now have a file on the guy that can be used to help nail him later.

I really wanted to write more today and get off of the rape topic, but I better hit the books in prep for those two half-midterms I have tomorrow!

The Luck O’ the Irish

(Originally written on March 17, 2009)

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In the spirit of the holiday, I am sitting at a local bar where I am a regular.  I recently finished their Around the World 100 Beer Club…which resulted in me receiving a black eye.  Thankfully, I was blackout at the time and have no recollection of the pain.  I was originally here studying for tomorrow’s test, but I feel I’ve reached a point where I won’t have too much to work on for tomorrow.

I ended up here because Gaston was being an ass and I am too weak to avoid him if I’m at my apartment.  He was really sweet earlier in the day – he took me to class even though his was cancelled, he bought me lunch, he let me pick out his new sunglasses, HE KISSED ME OUTSIDE…IN PUBLIC!  That’s a really big step for him!  But then he went to play tennis with Napoleon…where he lost (he’s sinfully competitive).  So anyways, I didn’t feel like putting up with his sour ass.

Well, I’m being summoned by my drunken pals to stop being lame on the laptop, so I’ll pick up from here later!  And hopefully I will have heard back from that company by the next time I post…

Introductions

(Originally written on March 15, 2009)

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The next two weeks are absolutely nuts for me.  Let me start by telling you that spring break was last week and I got practically nothing done in terms of prepping for these two hellish weeks ahead.  BUT, I did have a second interview, so that was at least productive.  So I’m impatiently awaiting for Wednesday to roll around to hear back as to whether or not I got an offer, I have a half-midterm on Wednesday, two different half-midterms on Monday, a midterm on Tuesday, a half-midterm on Wednesday, and a presentation on Thursday.  phew!

Furthering my procrastination with each character typed to this post…I am going to take the opportunity to briefly introduce you to a few of the most prominent people in my life (in no particular order) before delving into stories about them:

Scarlet – my gay BFF.  Actually, my BFF regardless of being gay.  He is a lot like me, but his bluntness is a bit more, well… exaggerated.  He is always there for me in times of need, especially when it comes to telling me what I don’t want to hear.

Samantha – my former roommate who lives in Vermont, the only roommate I still talk to.  She is lively, caring, and just as much of a sexual person as I am.  She understands all of my relationship problems (beyond just the sex mentioned above, by the way) because she has been there, done that.

Chip and Dale – my identical twin baby brothers.  They are two of the coolest guys ever.  They just won their battle of the bands last week, Chip plays guitar and Dale plays bass.  Even though they’re identical, don’t let that fool ya – they are different in a lot of ways!

Ursula – my younger sister.  She is absolutely gorgeous, and wins beauty pageants and stuff.  BUT, our relationship is on and off because she can be one of the most selfish, disrespectful people I know.

Beast – my dad.  This name comes from Beauty and the Beast.  The reasons for dislike being summed up as briefly as possible below:

He got cancer; my mom literally saved his life; he went into remission; he had at least one affair; my mom caught him in the act; he admitted it; he denied it; he finally regained her trust; he got caught doing it again; then he moved out.

However, he’s my dad and I do love him and enjoy his company, despite the hell he’s put my mom through.

Martyr – my mom.  She always views the above situation as “her failure to the family”.  She’s always been a religious person, but after the whole ordeal explained above, she became crazy spiritual.  She now regularly tries to convince me to believe in God, which is incredibly annoying.

X – my ex-boyfriend.  He won’t come up too often, but I do occasionally revisit the situation and vent.

Gaston – my “not-boyfriend” neighbor.  He’s a manly man from south Georgia.  I really enjoy his company and want a relationship with him, but he claims that he’s “not mature enough” right now.  Whatever.  That stupid title (even though I want it) isn’t going to prevent me from throwing away what we have.  *I’ll share this story soon.

Napoleon – Gaston’s roommate (also my neighbor).  He is pretty closed-minded and can be a real ass at times, but is a good friend that will help you out when in need.

Well that’s nowhere near everyone, but that’ll do for now.