On College Life... Again.
So here I am at 2:25 AM, sitting at my desk in my pajamas enjoying the fact that my dorm room is painfully clean at the moment. This weekend happens to be Parents weekend at good old Providence College. Theoretically it's when your mom, your dad, and whatever siblings you have drag themselves away from whatever they're doing to come get a glimpse of your life. However, in my universe, it's when my father is working to keep GE alive, my brother has decided that his girlfriend is more fun, and my mom is scrambling to find someone to share in her 2.5 hour car ride here. In any case, my aunt is accompanying her which means a few of things:
1) I have to be extremely careful about what I say because I'm sure there's some way I'll end up sounding "conceited"
2) I'll hear 101 things about how Andy is wonderful
3) Whatever opinion I have about where to dine will be overridden. No, I don't live here or anything.
It's only obnoxious because I feel like there are times when I go entirely out of my way for other people, and it's hardly ever reciprocated.
Okay, so now that I've got my little emo rant over with (Not that I really have anything to bitch about, my life is actually the best it's been in awhile aside from the fact that I miss people), I can move on with better things.
I know I promised a good story this time so I'm going to engage all my readers with the "I Got Punched In The Face" Story.
Way back when, when I was still 17, I tried to be badass and go to all the 18+ college bars. To keep from incriminating myself too much, I'll leave out the details of how I actually got into them, but it doesn't matter much anyway. One bar in particular I came to love was called Side Bar. Ahhh Side Bar. The first bar me and my PC partner in crime Allison ever went to. We most decidely came to love it, and we'd frequent it regularly spending endless amounts of money on the milk and cookies they serve all the underaged kids. After all it is six dollars for ever glass of "milk" you buy. Hopefully I haven't lost you.
So it was a pretty ordinary night, Allison had a friend from home in town and I was taking my time getting ready so I told them I'd meet them there as they went out pretty early. So I take my usual hour long marathon shower, and primp myself up for my Side Bar experience of the evening. I meet them there and we begin to order our milks. Now, anyone who knows me knows how crazy I go once I have the littlest bit of "milk" in me. Think: Every blue mountain trip we've ever taken. Ha. So I'm dancing around like an idiot and Allison is taking pictures and there is this very strange blonde frizzy-haired flabby facially pierced white girl pretending she can freestyle next to me. Allison and I exchange glances that suggest the same thought: This girl is making herself look like a slut and she should just quit while she's ahead. Time passes, and the girl is dancing strangely close to me, and I was dancing too but the girl kept like moving into me but I didn't really notice or do anything about it. Allison is still taking pictures, milk in hand. Ultimately, Allison leaves for a bathroom run and leaves me dancing idiotically alone. So then, the crazy dancing girl approaches me and says "Why yo friend gotta keep takin' pictures of me?" I smile and calmly tell her that the pictures are of me, and that if she'd like to see the camera, I'd be more than willing to show her the fact that if anything she's in the background of a picture. She doesn't say anything. Instead she gets very close to me and laughs directly in my face. At this point I get semi-annoyed. This girl is dirty looking and I probably just got mono from sharing the same air as her. I stand there until she's done, and then I say, "Whatever, I'm going to turn around now" And I do. Then, as I'm turned away, she comes from the side of me and sucker punches me in the jaw, knocking me unconscious, and then running out of the bar. I regain consciousness and decide that it's probably a good decision to leave. We do and when we get back to the dorm, I take a look in the mirror. At this point, I have a pounding headache, and an even sorer face. My reflection in the mirror suggests a huge, reddish turning black bump on my jaw/temple area. My RA catches the sight of me, I tell her the story and she calls the EMTs because I was very very out of it. Long story short, I ended up in the hospital, having x-rays, CAT scans, and ultimately a pretty serious concussion and a mess of partially torn ligaments in my jaw, and a very very sore face. Knocked me out of tennis for nearly a month. Worst headaches of my life, and some crazy "I was on painkillers" stories. But those are for later.
Friday I'll be 18 years and one month old. Yay.
Remember, Je T'aime.
Oh, and I'm going to see my LD next weekend. Watch out Poughkeepsie.
1) I have to be extremely careful about what I say because I'm sure there's some way I'll end up sounding "conceited"
2) I'll hear 101 things about how Andy is wonderful
3) Whatever opinion I have about where to dine will be overridden. No, I don't live here or anything.
It's only obnoxious because I feel like there are times when I go entirely out of my way for other people, and it's hardly ever reciprocated.
Okay, so now that I've got my little emo rant over with (Not that I really have anything to bitch about, my life is actually the best it's been in awhile aside from the fact that I miss people), I can move on with better things.
I know I promised a good story this time so I'm going to engage all my readers with the "I Got Punched In The Face" Story.
Way back when, when I was still 17, I tried to be badass and go to all the 18+ college bars. To keep from incriminating myself too much, I'll leave out the details of how I actually got into them, but it doesn't matter much anyway. One bar in particular I came to love was called Side Bar. Ahhh Side Bar. The first bar me and my PC partner in crime Allison ever went to. We most decidely came to love it, and we'd frequent it regularly spending endless amounts of money on the milk and cookies they serve all the underaged kids. After all it is six dollars for ever glass of "milk" you buy. Hopefully I haven't lost you.
So it was a pretty ordinary night, Allison had a friend from home in town and I was taking my time getting ready so I told them I'd meet them there as they went out pretty early. So I take my usual hour long marathon shower, and primp myself up for my Side Bar experience of the evening. I meet them there and we begin to order our milks. Now, anyone who knows me knows how crazy I go once I have the littlest bit of "milk" in me. Think: Every blue mountain trip we've ever taken. Ha. So I'm dancing around like an idiot and Allison is taking pictures and there is this very strange blonde frizzy-haired flabby facially pierced white girl pretending she can freestyle next to me. Allison and I exchange glances that suggest the same thought: This girl is making herself look like a slut and she should just quit while she's ahead. Time passes, and the girl is dancing strangely close to me, and I was dancing too but the girl kept like moving into me but I didn't really notice or do anything about it. Allison is still taking pictures, milk in hand. Ultimately, Allison leaves for a bathroom run and leaves me dancing idiotically alone. So then, the crazy dancing girl approaches me and says "Why yo friend gotta keep takin' pictures of me?" I smile and calmly tell her that the pictures are of me, and that if she'd like to see the camera, I'd be more than willing to show her the fact that if anything she's in the background of a picture. She doesn't say anything. Instead she gets very close to me and laughs directly in my face. At this point I get semi-annoyed. This girl is dirty looking and I probably just got mono from sharing the same air as her. I stand there until she's done, and then I say, "Whatever, I'm going to turn around now" And I do. Then, as I'm turned away, she comes from the side of me and sucker punches me in the jaw, knocking me unconscious, and then running out of the bar. I regain consciousness and decide that it's probably a good decision to leave. We do and when we get back to the dorm, I take a look in the mirror. At this point, I have a pounding headache, and an even sorer face. My reflection in the mirror suggests a huge, reddish turning black bump on my jaw/temple area. My RA catches the sight of me, I tell her the story and she calls the EMTs because I was very very out of it. Long story short, I ended up in the hospital, having x-rays, CAT scans, and ultimately a pretty serious concussion and a mess of partially torn ligaments in my jaw, and a very very sore face. Knocked me out of tennis for nearly a month. Worst headaches of my life, and some crazy "I was on painkillers" stories. But those are for later.
Friday I'll be 18 years and one month old. Yay.
Remember, Je T'aime.
Oh, and I'm going to see my LD next weekend. Watch out Poughkeepsie.