i don't think i shall ever see a person more fucked up...as me
bien sur, loyal readership. c'est vrai. i'm one fucked up motherfucker, + i mean that in every way but the coolest.
not only does this take a tole (LOOK I CAN'T SPELL) on me mentally/socially, but recently my -crazy- has even rendered me a cripple (WITH A "C"). amidst yet another disappointed 8am yawn in which i realized i'm still here in fucking chez sorority i noticed something rather odd: not only was dianne ream on morning edition of NPR (odd, she has her own show on at 11am) but i couldn't move. my muscles were so tense that every time i tried to even move an arm to end ream's monotone/hyperbolic old-lady voice they would start spasming, literally. ow. so i've fucked my way up into a rather painful back ache for reasons i can only relate to the stress i'm feeling about nothing...like fer serious.
last night, bored with actual fucking up, i got le drunk @ my sister's boyfriend's cousin's baby's (YEAH) christening party. this was odd because not only did i have to enumerate this connection everytime someone noticed that i was the only other (besides my sister) non-haitian (how'd they guess?!!?) but because at another party earlier this year, the father of the child blatantly hit on dana + i (grabbing her ass and asking us what we were doing later). another thing that made it odd was that my sister decided to tell everyone that i had been studying french + since, being Haitian, they all speak french (creole too) some of them decided to only speak french to drunk moi. ....how do you say: asshole?
high on ::pretty dress:: i decided my night's ambition should be larger than the bombay room at van ness apartments and was oh-so kindly escorted to a cab by another of my sister's boyfriend's CHILDLESS cousins. i called monica, only to find her alex + char in munson being monica, alex + char. sigh, summmer school is not as fun. i think we're always too tired to do anything.
walking home with char (who was wearing a piece of paper labeled "stairwell" she found on a doorway in munson) i made her walk me around the block so we could look at the freshman at orientation. rounding the block back to our townhouse a young, thin + mutton-chopless gentleman looked at me weird. i did some sort of double take and he said "hey!" it was the pre-frosh! being a pre-frosh at CI, no doubt. he said he'd snuck away from the night's CI activities to go see a show somewhere on 14th. unfortunately, being as the last time i saw him we made out in the coat room of a wedding, our acquantance (CAN'T SPELL) is rather awkward: i've been drunk every time i've talked to him--including e-mails and the like. last night was no exception and i'm pretty sure i must have come off a little strong. alas, he gave me a hug and walked off towards thurston. i'm a tad excited for the fall now. (freshman are the ALWAYS black. i love/hate them)
anyway, i either need to get out of here or something else needs to happen. NOW.
i am looking forward to bridge street book's 25th birthday party at the Georgetown Four Seasons. apparently, much of the dc literati will be there.
not only does this take a tole (LOOK I CAN'T SPELL) on me mentally/socially, but recently my -crazy- has even rendered me a cripple (WITH A "C"). amidst yet another disappointed 8am yawn in which i realized i'm still here in fucking chez sorority i noticed something rather odd: not only was dianne ream on morning edition of NPR (odd, she has her own show on at 11am) but i couldn't move. my muscles were so tense that every time i tried to even move an arm to end ream's monotone/hyperbolic old-lady voice they would start spasming, literally. ow. so i've fucked my way up into a rather painful back ache for reasons i can only relate to the stress i'm feeling about nothing...like fer serious.
last night, bored with actual fucking up, i got le drunk @ my sister's boyfriend's cousin's baby's (YEAH) christening party. this was odd because not only did i have to enumerate this connection everytime someone noticed that i was the only other (besides my sister) non-haitian (how'd they guess?!!?) but because at another party earlier this year, the father of the child blatantly hit on dana + i (grabbing her ass and asking us what we were doing later). another thing that made it odd was that my sister decided to tell everyone that i had been studying french + since, being Haitian, they all speak french (creole too) some of them decided to only speak french to drunk moi. ....how do you say: asshole?
high on ::pretty dress:: i decided my night's ambition should be larger than the bombay room at van ness apartments and was oh-so kindly escorted to a cab by another of my sister's boyfriend's CHILDLESS cousins. i called monica, only to find her alex + char in munson being monica, alex + char. sigh, summmer school is not as fun. i think we're always too tired to do anything.
walking home with char (who was wearing a piece of paper labeled "stairwell" she found on a doorway in munson) i made her walk me around the block so we could look at the freshman at orientation. rounding the block back to our townhouse a young, thin + mutton-chopless gentleman looked at me weird. i did some sort of double take and he said "hey!" it was the pre-frosh! being a pre-frosh at CI, no doubt. he said he'd snuck away from the night's CI activities to go see a show somewhere on 14th. unfortunately, being as the last time i saw him we made out in the coat room of a wedding, our acquantance (CAN'T SPELL) is rather awkward: i've been drunk every time i've talked to him--including e-mails and the like. last night was no exception and i'm pretty sure i must have come off a little strong. alas, he gave me a hug and walked off towards thurston. i'm a tad excited for the fall now. (freshman are the ALWAYS black. i love/hate them)
anyway, i either need to get out of here or something else needs to happen. NOW.
i am looking forward to bridge street book's 25th birthday party at the Georgetown Four Seasons. apparently, much of the dc literati will be there.