Wow, three weeks late much?
So I haven't updated in forever. Fuck my life. I'll get around to this. This is the comical tale of what happened to me three weekends ago.
Back story: The people next door to me party every weekend. They have NEVER got in trouble. They throw loud parties with much dancing, alcohol, and loud music at least once a weekend.
...Front...story?: Right. So it was a Friday night and my friends were being lame asses and didn't want to do anything. I spent from roughly 5 pm to 9:30 PM playing online poker and staring blankly at my computer screen until I couldn't take the lonely boredom anymore. So I ventured next door and hung out with Kevlin, my white black friend next door for a bit, and learned that there was indeed going to be a party in 613 that night. So I thought, OK, drinking in dorms is retarded. Clearly. But I decided fuck it, I'm THAT bored, and they never get caught, so what harm will it do? This mentality will come back to bite me in the ass later in our story.
I go over there, they decided to play pong that night, and set up a dresser sideways with the drawers taken out (Clever ingenuity). Eventually me and the other black kid from my floor, Cray, and I started to run shit in pong. Him and I coincidentally have the same birthday. August 7, 1989 represent, yo. Regardless, we had just won our 4th game. Going for 5-0, when suddenly KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. Residence Life!
The ultimate buzzkill. Ha. The number of thoughts running through my head were in the millions. There were several people who JUST walked in and don't ever drink, and they were getting in trouble too. Altogether, there were I think 15 people in the room. I had to escape. I couldn't get in trouble. This party NEVER gets busted. I couldn't believe it! I hadn't even drank that much! Alright. Time to come up with a plan. The RA's were outside the door asking for peoples ID's and writing down their ID number, name, and cell number. Okay. There was a lot of shit under people's bed. I could hide under a bed and hope they don't search the room and find me. I looked at the one bed and saw Cray standing by it. I looked away back to the other bed I was standing by, looked back at Cray and all that was there of him was his feet, kicking out from the bottom of the bed. In retrospective, this was one of the funniest things I've ever seen. However, back to the story.
Alright, I made choice number one. Try and talk my way out of this. So I walk outside, and go "Are you guys asking for ID's? Oh crap...really? Because I definitely don't have mine on me. Oh... I just live right down the hall. I'll be quick!" BAM, the minute I turn the corner I SPRINT into my room. I rip my blue t shirt off, put a red one on, from jeans to athletic shorts, CRAM a granola bar down my throat, followed by Orbit, and chug some water. Then I promptly hop in bed and tell Rich that if anyone asks I've been sleeping for the past two hours. Luckily, this eventually worked, the whole barricading myself in my room. They got distracted with an unruly gay guy drunk who demanded his lawyer and said his rich parents would "come in, flash some bills and this all would go away". Thank god for him. Hahaha. The thing is...I had to piss. BAD. And I heard voices in the hall still and couldn't take it anymore. So....I grabbed some empty Vitamin Water bottles and began pissing in those. I pissed 40 oz that night! Hahaha...fuck my life dude. Fuck my life. Although 14 other people on the floor got written up that night...and I got away clean. Yeee.
The next night was equally scary...but more in the sense that I thought I might actually lose my life. Me, Dan, and Tim went to see W. (Which was AMAZING, btw. I hope Josh Brolin gets nominated this year at the Oscars, but we'll see) We went to the theater in Southside...and when we got to the bus stop...this stereotypical black gangster dude with his hands in his pockets approached us. The first thing he said was "Ay yo I don't have a gun, niggas."...which screamed to me "HOLY FUCK THIS DUDE HAS A GUN AND WANTS TO KILL ME". His name was Lucha. Interesting. It was probably Irish descent...and he probably had a Leprechaun flute passed down to him by his great great grandfather. Wait. That's off topic. Sorry.
Right. So this bus that was supposed to get us based on the city bus schedule either stopped running, or someone strapped a bomb to it and said they couldn't go under 55...because the thing was no where in sight. And this guy was asking us stupid questions and wouldn't leave us alone. So finally a bus comes that's going to Oakland, so we say fuck it and get on that bus. Mr. Lucha over here follows us...and we're like...fuck. How do we get rid of this guy? So we see that the bus is driving relatively close to the Point Park Playhouse in Oakland. So I pull on the stop rope thing, and say to him "Well, we're gonna catch a shuttle back now at this stop". And he goes "Y'all need a student ID for that" and you really don't...but in unison we all go "YES!". We got off the bus and the dude got off and followed us some more. So we rounded a corner and ran to the playhouse. Finally. Safe. It was an incredibly tense hour.
Now all of us are afraid to go to Southside for fear of running into Lucha.
Back story: The people next door to me party every weekend. They have NEVER got in trouble. They throw loud parties with much dancing, alcohol, and loud music at least once a weekend.
...Front...story?: Right. So it was a Friday night and my friends were being lame asses and didn't want to do anything. I spent from roughly 5 pm to 9:30 PM playing online poker and staring blankly at my computer screen until I couldn't take the lonely boredom anymore. So I ventured next door and hung out with Kevlin, my white black friend next door for a bit, and learned that there was indeed going to be a party in 613 that night. So I thought, OK, drinking in dorms is retarded. Clearly. But I decided fuck it, I'm THAT bored, and they never get caught, so what harm will it do? This mentality will come back to bite me in the ass later in our story.
I go over there, they decided to play pong that night, and set up a dresser sideways with the drawers taken out (Clever ingenuity). Eventually me and the other black kid from my floor, Cray, and I started to run shit in pong. Him and I coincidentally have the same birthday. August 7, 1989 represent, yo. Regardless, we had just won our 4th game. Going for 5-0, when suddenly KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. Residence Life!
The ultimate buzzkill. Ha. The number of thoughts running through my head were in the millions. There were several people who JUST walked in and don't ever drink, and they were getting in trouble too. Altogether, there were I think 15 people in the room. I had to escape. I couldn't get in trouble. This party NEVER gets busted. I couldn't believe it! I hadn't even drank that much! Alright. Time to come up with a plan. The RA's were outside the door asking for peoples ID's and writing down their ID number, name, and cell number. Okay. There was a lot of shit under people's bed. I could hide under a bed and hope they don't search the room and find me. I looked at the one bed and saw Cray standing by it. I looked away back to the other bed I was standing by, looked back at Cray and all that was there of him was his feet, kicking out from the bottom of the bed. In retrospective, this was one of the funniest things I've ever seen. However, back to the story.
Alright, I made choice number one. Try and talk my way out of this. So I walk outside, and go "Are you guys asking for ID's? Oh crap...really? Because I definitely don't have mine on me. Oh... I just live right down the hall. I'll be quick!" BAM, the minute I turn the corner I SPRINT into my room. I rip my blue t shirt off, put a red one on, from jeans to athletic shorts, CRAM a granola bar down my throat, followed by Orbit, and chug some water. Then I promptly hop in bed and tell Rich that if anyone asks I've been sleeping for the past two hours. Luckily, this eventually worked, the whole barricading myself in my room. They got distracted with an unruly gay guy drunk who demanded his lawyer and said his rich parents would "come in, flash some bills and this all would go away". Thank god for him. Hahaha. The thing is...I had to piss. BAD. And I heard voices in the hall still and couldn't take it anymore. So....I grabbed some empty Vitamin Water bottles and began pissing in those. I pissed 40 oz that night! Hahaha...fuck my life dude. Fuck my life. Although 14 other people on the floor got written up that night...and I got away clean. Yeee.
The next night was equally scary...but more in the sense that I thought I might actually lose my life. Me, Dan, and Tim went to see W. (Which was AMAZING, btw. I hope Josh Brolin gets nominated this year at the Oscars, but we'll see) We went to the theater in Southside...and when we got to the bus stop...this stereotypical black gangster dude with his hands in his pockets approached us. The first thing he said was "Ay yo I don't have a gun, niggas."...which screamed to me "HOLY FUCK THIS DUDE HAS A GUN AND WANTS TO KILL ME". His name was Lucha. Interesting. It was probably Irish descent...and he probably had a Leprechaun flute passed down to him by his great great grandfather. Wait. That's off topic. Sorry.
Right. So this bus that was supposed to get us based on the city bus schedule either stopped running, or someone strapped a bomb to it and said they couldn't go under 55...because the thing was no where in sight. And this guy was asking us stupid questions and wouldn't leave us alone. So finally a bus comes that's going to Oakland, so we say fuck it and get on that bus. Mr. Lucha over here follows us...and we're like...fuck. How do we get rid of this guy? So we see that the bus is driving relatively close to the Point Park Playhouse in Oakland. So I pull on the stop rope thing, and say to him "Well, we're gonna catch a shuttle back now at this stop". And he goes "Y'all need a student ID for that" and you really don't...but in unison we all go "YES!". We got off the bus and the dude got off and followed us some more. So we rounded a corner and ran to the playhouse. Finally. Safe. It was an incredibly tense hour.
Now all of us are afraid to go to Southside for fear of running into Lucha.