C-I-L-L my...
... roommate. I don't know if anyone reading this has ever seen the 80s SNL sketch with Eddie Murphy teaching children, who are supposed to be from the ghetto, how to spell. One of the lines from this bit of merrily racist silliness is Eddie Murphy's explanation of the letter C:
"C as in.... KILL. That's spelled C-I-L-L. Used in a sentence: I wanna C-I-L-L my landlord."
Yes, this is horribly politically incorrect.
But it's entirely appropriate for my life right now. Not with my landlord, because, fortunately I still technically live in a dorm and don't have to deal with those difficult creatures quite yet. However, last night was the first time murder did not seem like an overreaction to certain behavior from my roommate.
I went to a party last night with my roommate and, after last week's embarrassing debacle, I decided to remain sober for this one. Plus I figured I could drive them all should the need arise. I knew I wasn't going to stay out long, so I said that if anyone needed a ride back, they should come with me when I left.
The party itself was so-so. I've gotten to that point in my partying career where I know a lot of faces but few names, so awkward conversations abounded. The hostess, however, who is my roommate's Big, is completely adorable and responsible for my continued sanity with regards to Medieval History, so I enjoyed the time with her. I also enjoyed hanging out with another House Girl with whom I don't spend that much time, but who I'm beginning to want to room with next year because a mutual friend offered both of us her (beautiful) apartment. It became more interesting when our Sweetheart got into a fistfight with another boy, nearly knocking over the refrigerator. Pretty much by definition, a Sweetheart ought to be a man of charm and class, so this was unfortunate and highly embarrassing for every Alpha Chi present. Luckily both parties were drunk enough that they didn't seriously injure themselves or each other, and even managed to patch things up afterwards, almost as though nothing happened.
Then Gorgeous Pi Kap Lars arrived, and the night immediately became about ten times better and also ten times more daunting. I've already related here how much I hate talking to him, because I can't for the life of me think of anything interesting to say. The problem is his tendency to sort of awkwardly hang around me and awkwardly make awkward conversation. You would think, for such an attractive person, he would have the suave to match. In actuality, he, just, um, doesn't. Sorry Lars. So I was left trying to be cool and casual, when I was stone-cold sober and all-too-aware how dumb I sounded.
By 1 am, I'd had enough of this--especially of Sweetheart's antics and those of all the drunk people around me. I yelled loudly into the party--"Hey Alpha Chis, I'm leaving. If you want a ride, COME WITH ME RIGHT NOW!!"
One would think this is a clear enough indication of one's intention to leave.
Evidently not. I went home and immediately fell into a deep, calming sleep. At 2:43 in the morning, my lovely roommate calls me.
Her: "I thought you said you'd drive us."
Me: "It's 2:43 in the morning, and I have to get up for Special Olympics tomorrow morning."
Her: "Fine then, I'll catch a ride with... (to someone else) hey, you're Andy, right? Oh no, he's Andy. That's Jake. Jake, or Andy. One of 'em anyway."
Me: "......"
Her: "Andy's a beast. He took three extra shots.... hmm, maybe we should walk?"
Me (panicking): "I'm coming to get you. Don't move."
I proceed to put on rain boots and a coat over my pajamas, grab my keys, and go.
Then, as I'm driving, she texts me: "Can wp go to cookout." (Typos and period at the end accurately and faithfully rendered.) My response to this request, as soon as I get to the party and am waiting for them to come out, is something slightly nicer than Hell No.
My roommate and her best friend from high school are obnoxious once we're in the car, and are unable to abandon the idea of Cookout. They're like a chorus of four-year-olds begging for candy: impossible to indulge, but even more impossible to turn down. Particularly when we get back to the house and my roommate, who is a belligerent drunk, begins to yell at me for not taking them to Cookout. She takes her keys and starts going to her car. I'm so exhausted and terrified they're actually going to do this and there's nothing I can do to stop them, that I'm nearly in tears. I stop her, then they say they're going to walk (alone for easily five or six miles, at 3 in the morning).
What can I do? I have to drive them. They refuse to abandon this Cookout idiocy.
So, hating myself the entire time, I get them to Cookout. My roommate is hilarious when she's sober--she has this dry sense of humor that can skewer everyone and everything. Even though it may not sound like it from this post, I actually really like her... when she's not drunk. Being drunk brings out her less savory characteristics. She is extremely strong-willed, probably because she was brought up in a rich family. Assertiveness and confidence are just part of her personality. "No" is not a word she hears very often. She is "popular" in Alpha Chi (insofar as you can be "popular" in college) almost by sheer Machiavellian manipulation. So I knew what I was getting into by rooming with her. But last night I was just not in the mood for her BS. I really didn't want to drive them. But I gave in after she and her friend wore down my resistance with twenty minutes of nonstop complaints and threats.
I just couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to them while they were walking there, driving drunk, or being driven by drunks--all of those situations are dangerous in the extreme. I feel so protective of my sisters.That's how it always is, though. It's hard to explain to non-Greeks. To some extent, these women really are my sisters, and that means I love them regardless of how obnoxious they're being.
Which, last night, was VERY.
It was also hilarious, though, because we had a strange conversation on the way back in which they expressed their concern that I'm not going anywhere in life because I'm majoring in English and French. (My roommate's best friend: "But what will you DOOOOOO?!? What if you starve? And no one else can feed you?") They were also utterly convinced that Gorgeous Pi Kap Lars liked me, pointing out how much time he'd spent hanging around me that night. (I hate when people do this: how many times does the world have to give me false hope?) I almost died laughing listening to them, even though I sort of hated their guts for waking me at 3 in the morning before Special Olympics.
I've come to a realization lately: you know how some people have a gift with children, the disabled, or animals, or old people? I have a gift with drunk people. I speak their language.
When we got back, they managed to somehow break a chair, at which point I basically threw my hands up and said I was going to bed and they were on their own.
Then they called me four times this morning looking for a cell phone which turned out to be in my car.
Like I said, I'm going to C-I-L-L my roommate.
Not really. She's my sister, plus she has excellent entertainment value. But it's beginning to look like a viable option.
P.S. The 'family' icon represents the agony and the ecstasy of family, be they Sith Lords or sorority sisters.