XLVI. hash, n, purified resin prepared from the flowering tops of the female cannabis plant
I AM LISTENING TO ELVIS PRESLEY SO HARD RIGHT NOW.
No, I'm serious. "Suspicious Minds"? I am in, like, actual phyisical pain from how much I want to get up and dance. But, I'm sitting outside Lewis Hall, and there are sort of other people around, and I really can't be bothered to decide whether or not I care about what they think of me.
So, I had a pretty insane weekend... Also, you are REALLY lucky this is not a voice post, because my voice is kind of INCREDIBLY TERRIFYING at the moment. I have a really heinous cold, but at least I'm not very sick anymore. I felt so crappy on Thursday/Friday. But then I went to Walgreens and bought some Children's Tylenol Flu meds, and that helped a lot-- so much, in fact, that I went to bar night at Cloyne on Friday with Devora and Brandon. The really icky guy that I slept with that once kept trying to talk to me, but I just used Brandon (such a darling obliging boy he is) as a shield. Except, OMG SO MUCH SLEAZE. Forreal. Like, I got at least six offers to buy me a drink, and they were all so gross that I didn't even take any of them up on it just to alleviate my boredom. Brandon and I both thought Josh was really cute, but of course he is with Alex and they're an adorable couple. And people kept asking for my phone number. Um, HOW ABOUT NO. So that was kind of a bust except that Brandon and I scored $50 of hash and made friends with the drug dealer, and I had a nice time dancing with all my precious friends. (Connie was so charming and drunk! I could just eat her up.)
And then Saturday, Brandon and Dev and Mary and I went into San Francisco for LoveFest, which is like this GIANT rave in downtown SF with all these floats blasting techno/dance/electronica/etc. and people wearing crazy outfits with a million colors and feathers galore. We smoked a few bowls, some with hash embedded in them, and OH MY GOD I have never been that high in my life; I grabbed Brandon's hand and we ran screaming over to the grass and I dove into it and rolled over myself and shouted until I was hoarse (not very difficult considering the current state of my throat). Between my skinny blond boy/curvy pink-haired chick/alterna-Asian friends and the fact that I was wearing a kimono, we got checked out about eight thousand times before we took BART back to Berkeley. Being squished between them on the train was so fantastic; I feel like I have finally kinda found my niche.
Muffin and I had dinner at Gypsy's (mmm greasy cheap Italian), and as we were leaving, this pretty hipsterboy completely LOOKED ME UP AND DOWN, like so obviously that I noticed despite my hash-comedown, foodcoma state. He was totally hot, and had I not been blindingly exhausted, I might've chatted him up a bit. But it's just so funny, because back home I was fairly certain that boys didn't notice me; what I didn't realize is that I was barking completely up the wrong tree. The boys who are my "type" now, it turns out, are actually the ones who are interested in girls like me.
(coolvic234 (8:57:53 PM): what exactly is your type then madam
lovethenewblack (8:59:11 PM): Silly, and skinny, and awkward but in a really cute way, and sleazy, but in a really funny way. And generally messy-haired and slightly hipster but not in a snobby way.
lovethenewblack (8:59:39 PM): Actually, I think I just described all of my male friends, too.)
Unfortunately, barring their weekend drunkenness, most of these boys are too shy to say two words to me, much less hit on me. Le sigh. I'm just going to have to be more brazen. (?)
But, um, speaking of being hit on... A friend of mine from back home basically made a charming drunken pass at me via AIM. I'm not sure what to think. Like, when he was a mythical figure to me back when I was 16 or 17, I had THE HUGEST CRUSH on him but of course assumed he was unattainable, considering he was beautiful and four years my senior and had a reputation for being something of a manwhore. So I just don't know. But, I guess I'll see him in a little less than three months, and we can see where it goes? I'm probably just overanalyzing; after all, he was drunk and may not even recall the subject of our conversation.
(Story of my life, much?)
Grahhhh. I feel like I'm leaving out important things. Ah well.
No, I'm serious. "Suspicious Minds"? I am in, like, actual phyisical pain from how much I want to get up and dance. But, I'm sitting outside Lewis Hall, and there are sort of other people around, and I really can't be bothered to decide whether or not I care about what they think of me.
So, I had a pretty insane weekend... Also, you are REALLY lucky this is not a voice post, because my voice is kind of INCREDIBLY TERRIFYING at the moment. I have a really heinous cold, but at least I'm not very sick anymore. I felt so crappy on Thursday/Friday. But then I went to Walgreens and bought some Children's Tylenol Flu meds, and that helped a lot-- so much, in fact, that I went to bar night at Cloyne on Friday with Devora and Brandon. The really icky guy that I slept with that once kept trying to talk to me, but I just used Brandon (such a darling obliging boy he is) as a shield. Except, OMG SO MUCH SLEAZE. Forreal. Like, I got at least six offers to buy me a drink, and they were all so gross that I didn't even take any of them up on it just to alleviate my boredom. Brandon and I both thought Josh was really cute, but of course he is with Alex and they're an adorable couple. And people kept asking for my phone number. Um, HOW ABOUT NO. So that was kind of a bust except that Brandon and I scored $50 of hash and made friends with the drug dealer, and I had a nice time dancing with all my precious friends. (Connie was so charming and drunk! I could just eat her up.)
And then Saturday, Brandon and Dev and Mary and I went into San Francisco for LoveFest, which is like this GIANT rave in downtown SF with all these floats blasting techno/dance/electronica/etc. and people wearing crazy outfits with a million colors and feathers galore. We smoked a few bowls, some with hash embedded in them, and OH MY GOD I have never been that high in my life; I grabbed Brandon's hand and we ran screaming over to the grass and I dove into it and rolled over myself and shouted until I was hoarse (not very difficult considering the current state of my throat). Between my skinny blond boy/curvy pink-haired chick/alterna-Asian friends and the fact that I was wearing a kimono, we got checked out about eight thousand times before we took BART back to Berkeley. Being squished between them on the train was so fantastic; I feel like I have finally kinda found my niche.
Muffin and I had dinner at Gypsy's (mmm greasy cheap Italian), and as we were leaving, this pretty hipsterboy completely LOOKED ME UP AND DOWN, like so obviously that I noticed despite my hash-comedown, foodcoma state. He was totally hot, and had I not been blindingly exhausted, I might've chatted him up a bit. But it's just so funny, because back home I was fairly certain that boys didn't notice me; what I didn't realize is that I was barking completely up the wrong tree. The boys who are my "type" now, it turns out, are actually the ones who are interested in girls like me.
(coolvic234 (8:57:53 PM): what exactly is your type then madam
lovethenewblack (8:59:11 PM): Silly, and skinny, and awkward but in a really cute way, and sleazy, but in a really funny way. And generally messy-haired and slightly hipster but not in a snobby way.
lovethenewblack (8:59:39 PM): Actually, I think I just described all of my male friends, too.)
Unfortunately, barring their weekend drunkenness, most of these boys are too shy to say two words to me, much less hit on me. Le sigh. I'm just going to have to be more brazen. (?)
But, um, speaking of being hit on... A friend of mine from back home basically made a charming drunken pass at me via AIM. I'm not sure what to think. Like, when he was a mythical figure to me back when I was 16 or 17, I had THE HUGEST CRUSH on him but of course assumed he was unattainable, considering he was beautiful and four years my senior and had a reputation for being something of a manwhore. So I just don't know. But, I guess I'll see him in a little less than three months, and we can see where it goes? I'm probably just overanalyzing; after all, he was drunk and may not even recall the subject of our conversation.
(Story of my life, much?)
Grahhhh. I feel like I'm leaving out important things. Ah well.