for what
So I went to this BC orientation about two weeks ago. It was fun, and kind of interesting. I got to choose my courses, and picked a psych class, a sociology class, a music class, a math class, and a religion class. Met some cool people, and as it turns out, there are livejournal communities for both BC and BC 2008. Should be an interesting year.
A few nights ago, Dana attempted to throw a pool party for a few of her friends and some other people. Unfortunately, people opted to bring booze instead of bathing suits, and it turned into yet another Briarcliff outing with kids just trying to get wasted and making a mess. I have to say, throwing parties really sucks. Some people just don't clean up after themselves and behave like two-year-olds or puppies. What is up with that, I ask. It kind of makes me sad that people prefer getting wasted over going swimming.
A few days later, Dana went out on a babysitting gig, and found out that her parents were going to be coming back before her projected return home. Deciding that it was about time I lived up to my best-boyfriend-in-the-world title, and because I've sort of been slipping up lately with my time management skills (being late for stuff we did together), I went over to her house to feed her cats and clean up all the incriminating bottles and cans that people left behind. She had alreadly completed about half the job for me, but there was still a good deal left. Of course, trying to get into the house, I was unable to find her outdoor hidden key and couldn't get through to her on her cell phone. In my attempts to get inside her house, I set off the alarm system. This particular alarm system contacted the police, contacted Kelsey's dad, and blared a loud and rather disconcerting siren all throughout the house. Luckily Dana had given me the code to disarm the device, and I was able to get in via the front door which had unlocked, but that only solved the problem of the siren; I still had to explain to two police officers and Mr. Sundberg that I was not a burglar and in fact Dana's boyfriend, and that I was only feeding the cats. Luckily they bought the story, laughed at me, and promptly left.
Unfortunately, I was a bit late getting back home. It was the middle of the afternoon, but my parents had planned to leave for my uncle's house for my grandparents' 54th wedding anniversary. I felt a bit bad for making them late, but we actually ended up being early to the event, and there were no hard feelings. Well, I shouldn't say that, because I had to tell my parents about the whole alarm thing to explain my lateness, and of course any run-in I have with cops is an ultimate travesty. They don't seem to understand that Briarcliff cops aren't the same as NYC cops, the ones they grew up with. And for God's sake, why does every one of my blunders have to be punctuated by some reproach by them in which they criticize me for not listening to them and in which they bring up every other mistake I've made in the past month? Honestly, no one I know demonstrates a lower opinion of me than they, and sometimes it just really annoys me. And quite frankly, a mistake is stressful in and of itself; it really doesn't need some kind of follow-up.
Well, I'm done telling you what I've been doing and why I've been ranting. Call me if you're bored.
A few nights ago, Dana attempted to throw a pool party for a few of her friends and some other people. Unfortunately, people opted to bring booze instead of bathing suits, and it turned into yet another Briarcliff outing with kids just trying to get wasted and making a mess. I have to say, throwing parties really sucks. Some people just don't clean up after themselves and behave like two-year-olds or puppies. What is up with that, I ask. It kind of makes me sad that people prefer getting wasted over going swimming.
A few days later, Dana went out on a babysitting gig, and found out that her parents were going to be coming back before her projected return home. Deciding that it was about time I lived up to my best-boyfriend-in-the-world title, and because I've sort of been slipping up lately with my time management skills (being late for stuff we did together), I went over to her house to feed her cats and clean up all the incriminating bottles and cans that people left behind. She had alreadly completed about half the job for me, but there was still a good deal left. Of course, trying to get into the house, I was unable to find her outdoor hidden key and couldn't get through to her on her cell phone. In my attempts to get inside her house, I set off the alarm system. This particular alarm system contacted the police, contacted Kelsey's dad, and blared a loud and rather disconcerting siren all throughout the house. Luckily Dana had given me the code to disarm the device, and I was able to get in via the front door which had unlocked, but that only solved the problem of the siren; I still had to explain to two police officers and Mr. Sundberg that I was not a burglar and in fact Dana's boyfriend, and that I was only feeding the cats. Luckily they bought the story, laughed at me, and promptly left.
Unfortunately, I was a bit late getting back home. It was the middle of the afternoon, but my parents had planned to leave for my uncle's house for my grandparents' 54th wedding anniversary. I felt a bit bad for making them late, but we actually ended up being early to the event, and there were no hard feelings. Well, I shouldn't say that, because I had to tell my parents about the whole alarm thing to explain my lateness, and of course any run-in I have with cops is an ultimate travesty. They don't seem to understand that Briarcliff cops aren't the same as NYC cops, the ones they grew up with. And for God's sake, why does every one of my blunders have to be punctuated by some reproach by them in which they criticize me for not listening to them and in which they bring up every other mistake I've made in the past month? Honestly, no one I know demonstrates a lower opinion of me than they, and sometimes it just really annoys me. And quite frankly, a mistake is stressful in and of itself; it really doesn't need some kind of follow-up.
Well, I'm done telling you what I've been doing and why I've been ranting. Call me if you're bored.