Waaaaaaah!
Waaaaaah is all I can muster when trying to describe in one word how last night was. We had Whale/Wale/Wail the Gael (ie: get drunk with frosh group) last night at Rachel's house. Our theme was: dress up as your favourite music faculty member, and I was my ear training prof, which was a big hit. Rachel Lipton was Marvin, our Baroque history prof. A 3rd year, Taylor, came and was dressed as Dr. Burge, the 1st year theory prof. His costume was so freaking dead on. Hahaha, drinking in costume is fun.
My frosh made me a crown and bought me a baby bottle of Fireball whiskey. *tear* They're awesome. On the card they wrote: To Jen, Because you are hott and spunky! (they forgot the 2nd 'n', but that's ok, they made me a crown. :D)
I <3333 those kids.
Ok, so, I continued to get hammed throughout the night. Tim, one of my frosh, asked us Gael's to pick a number between 1 and 5. I picked 3, and apparently by doing so I had to shotgun a beer. OMG. What an experience. I couldn't pop the tab (no nails, ack), so hot frosh (yes, he was there. :D :D :D, more on that...) kindly opened it while i was drinking out of the hole in the bottom, and then proceeded to put his hand over it, so I couldn't pull it away. Jesus. I had never mixed beer and liquor. That's a different drunk right there.
As the night progresses we are singing random Backstreet Boys, NSYNC and musicals while Terry, another frosh, plays the piano. I am hammed, and hot frosh is hammed, so in typical Jenn fashion, somehow we end up in Rachel's basement and then we're making out. Har har.
But before I elaborate on that, he told me (drunkenly of course, but truth comes out when you're drunk, at least it does for me) that he was so excited that I joined composition, and that he wanted to have dinner at the caf with me (awww, how romantic) after his 7pm appointment with Fisher about his composition on Monday. We'll see if he remembers that.
Anyway, so back to the basement. Strangely enough, his facial hair didn't even bother me.
Uh, aside: I just remembered that someone totally took a picture of him kissing me on the cheek. Goodness. Why didn't my camera work that night!?!?!?
Ok, back on topic. So we're rolling around on the floor blah blah blah, and according to his drunk self he's wanted to do this forever, not just because he's drunk (hmmm, we'll see), and this situation just made it easier for him to get an in with me. He astonishingly did not try to put his hands down my pants, and he was pretty hammed, so he gets 10 up over any other random hookup I've had.
Eventually he has to pee. And then everyone decides to come down and I try to act all nonchalant (HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAH) and I go upstairs, and people are all WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR NECK and YOUR BACK IS ALL DIRTY WHY ARE YOU DIRTY. I have hickies the size of Texas. I look like my neck was attacked. People were all YOU HOOKED UP WITH A FROSH and I kept repeating how I bit myself shaving and anything to admit what happened, since it's the music people and gossip spreads like wildfire... Anyway, yeah, like they believed me. But no really, the hickies are BAD. Like, coverup won't save me. I have to wear a scarf for a week. And I really wanted to work out tomorrow. Something tells me scarfs with spandex clothing don't go down well at the gym.
I stayed over at Rachel's. Poor Rachel was sick everywhere. I think I might still be drunk myself (ew, the last time I woke up drunk was when I almost missed my bus the day I left Domaine), and I really want to sleep, but can't because my stomach is all knotty. Maybe I'll attempt to do work. Hmm.
So yeah, me and hot frosh hit it off. We talked about having sex with Jude Law and Sienna Miller. Oh, and apparently he's bi. W00t. He's supposed to call me today about our next composition assignment. We'll see if he's still alive.
Now I have to see what I can do about these monstrous hickies.
My frosh made me a crown and bought me a baby bottle of Fireball whiskey. *tear* They're awesome. On the card they wrote: To Jen, Because you are hott and spunky! (they forgot the 2nd 'n', but that's ok, they made me a crown. :D)
I <3333 those kids.
Ok, so, I continued to get hammed throughout the night. Tim, one of my frosh, asked us Gael's to pick a number between 1 and 5. I picked 3, and apparently by doing so I had to shotgun a beer. OMG. What an experience. I couldn't pop the tab (no nails, ack), so hot frosh (yes, he was there. :D :D :D, more on that...) kindly opened it while i was drinking out of the hole in the bottom, and then proceeded to put his hand over it, so I couldn't pull it away. Jesus. I had never mixed beer and liquor. That's a different drunk right there.
As the night progresses we are singing random Backstreet Boys, NSYNC and musicals while Terry, another frosh, plays the piano. I am hammed, and hot frosh is hammed, so in typical Jenn fashion, somehow we end up in Rachel's basement and then we're making out. Har har.
But before I elaborate on that, he told me (drunkenly of course, but truth comes out when you're drunk, at least it does for me) that he was so excited that I joined composition, and that he wanted to have dinner at the caf with me (awww, how romantic) after his 7pm appointment with Fisher about his composition on Monday. We'll see if he remembers that.
Anyway, so back to the basement. Strangely enough, his facial hair didn't even bother me.
Uh, aside: I just remembered that someone totally took a picture of him kissing me on the cheek. Goodness. Why didn't my camera work that night!?!?!?
Ok, back on topic. So we're rolling around on the floor blah blah blah, and according to his drunk self he's wanted to do this forever, not just because he's drunk (hmmm, we'll see), and this situation just made it easier for him to get an in with me. He astonishingly did not try to put his hands down my pants, and he was pretty hammed, so he gets 10 up over any other random hookup I've had.
Eventually he has to pee. And then everyone decides to come down and I try to act all nonchalant (HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAH) and I go upstairs, and people are all WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR NECK and YOUR BACK IS ALL DIRTY WHY ARE YOU DIRTY. I have hickies the size of Texas. I look like my neck was attacked. People were all YOU HOOKED UP WITH A FROSH and I kept repeating how I bit myself shaving and anything to admit what happened, since it's the music people and gossip spreads like wildfire... Anyway, yeah, like they believed me. But no really, the hickies are BAD. Like, coverup won't save me. I have to wear a scarf for a week. And I really wanted to work out tomorrow. Something tells me scarfs with spandex clothing don't go down well at the gym.
I stayed over at Rachel's. Poor Rachel was sick everywhere. I think I might still be drunk myself (ew, the last time I woke up drunk was when I almost missed my bus the day I left Domaine), and I really want to sleep, but can't because my stomach is all knotty. Maybe I'll attempt to do work. Hmm.
So yeah, me and hot frosh hit it off. We talked about having sex with Jude Law and Sienna Miller. Oh, and apparently he's bi. W00t. He's supposed to call me today about our next composition assignment. We'll see if he's still alive.
Now I have to see what I can do about these monstrous hickies.