Great Weekend
Finished up my last final Thursday afternoon and got drunk on campus with a dude Trevor from the class. It felt great to finally throw off the yoke of school after a very long week of non-stop cramming, as it does every semester. Came home that night early, finished off a sixer of Dunkel while blaring Korpiklaani as loud as my speakers could handle. Literally scared my roommates from coming downstairs to see what was going on. Passed out at 10PM.
Friday night was a party for one of the rugby girls who single-handedly started the girls' team here and probably does most of the heavy lifting in the games too. She's a glorious specimen of Teutonic womanhood, standing about six feet, sturdily built and with a fitting last name of Doppenberg ("double mountain" -ish). Always a fun time throwing down with the team. Cups of hunch punch were quartered* left and right, and a handle of Black Velvet found it's way upturned over my head a few times. Started talking to this girl whose hippie parents named her Ocoee after the river, and named her brother Tarzan Thor after the mythical characters. She didn't know anyone at the party and was fake talking on her phone to look occupied like people do. Anyway, we chatted for a few, and she actually still listens to those obscure "hardcore" bands that were around several years back like The Kinison and Calico System. But there were beers to be had and men to yell at, so the party went on for me.
I left the party with my friend Jeremy I'd been hanging out with all day and we followed our ears to another party down the street. We found about a dozen dudes in the front lawn of this house, shitty prog metal playing on a boombox, an abandoned game of beer pong in the middle of them. Jeremy knew one of the guys, because he'd met his older brother who was apparently an expert magician. This guy was wearing a shirt with a big pot leaf on it, and the majority of the other guys were wearing t-shirts with fucking stupid shit written on them.
One guy wore "keep staring I might do a trick". Everyone who wears shirts like that always looks around like they really need some kind of attention, and they project this indomitable insecurity that sort of repels you at a deep level from them. Such is the school that I go to. We left that scene in a hurry and called it a night.
Remember that red-head I mentioned a while back? It turns out she waits tables at the Hooters in Lawrenceville! I never would have guessed! She's 5'11" and has a glorious body, but she dresses kind of like a hipster and just doesn't have that energy that Hooters girls tend to have. I was blown away that she managed to keep that secret so well. She said she dislikes the work, obviously, and kind of feels sorry for most of the guys who go to Hooters. But if spelling out a guy's name with your ass on his birthday pays the bills, why not?
She said she didn't want many people to know her as a Hooters girl, which was a fucking hot thing to hear if I do say so myself. We watched a movie last night and drank some beers and smoked hand-rolled cigarettes--completely chilled out low class and had a great time. I really like her, and when you're described as a 6-foot-9 Jude Law, you can guess you're on good terms with her, too. Awesome.
Right now I've got a date with White Widow and a huge incoming folder of unsorted music to organize. My current music is pretty awesome--furious and powerful Japanese thrash metal that I recommend to anyone inclined to such things.
* When a quarter is dropped into your cup, you must down it in one. When you're a small Asian guy who gets two cups of hunch punch quartered, you know you'll be the center of attention at the party.
Friday night was a party for one of the rugby girls who single-handedly started the girls' team here and probably does most of the heavy lifting in the games too. She's a glorious specimen of Teutonic womanhood, standing about six feet, sturdily built and with a fitting last name of Doppenberg ("double mountain" -ish). Always a fun time throwing down with the team. Cups of hunch punch were quartered* left and right, and a handle of Black Velvet found it's way upturned over my head a few times. Started talking to this girl whose hippie parents named her Ocoee after the river, and named her brother Tarzan Thor after the mythical characters. She didn't know anyone at the party and was fake talking on her phone to look occupied like people do. Anyway, we chatted for a few, and she actually still listens to those obscure "hardcore" bands that were around several years back like The Kinison and Calico System. But there were beers to be had and men to yell at, so the party went on for me.
I left the party with my friend Jeremy I'd been hanging out with all day and we followed our ears to another party down the street. We found about a dozen dudes in the front lawn of this house, shitty prog metal playing on a boombox, an abandoned game of beer pong in the middle of them. Jeremy knew one of the guys, because he'd met his older brother who was apparently an expert magician. This guy was wearing a shirt with a big pot leaf on it, and the majority of the other guys were wearing t-shirts with fucking stupid shit written on them.
One guy wore "keep staring I might do a trick". Everyone who wears shirts like that always looks around like they really need some kind of attention, and they project this indomitable insecurity that sort of repels you at a deep level from them. Such is the school that I go to. We left that scene in a hurry and called it a night.
Remember that red-head I mentioned a while back? It turns out she waits tables at the Hooters in Lawrenceville! I never would have guessed! She's 5'11" and has a glorious body, but she dresses kind of like a hipster and just doesn't have that energy that Hooters girls tend to have. I was blown away that she managed to keep that secret so well. She said she dislikes the work, obviously, and kind of feels sorry for most of the guys who go to Hooters. But if spelling out a guy's name with your ass on his birthday pays the bills, why not?
She said she didn't want many people to know her as a Hooters girl, which was a fucking hot thing to hear if I do say so myself. We watched a movie last night and drank some beers and smoked hand-rolled cigarettes--completely chilled out low class and had a great time. I really like her, and when you're described as a 6-foot-9 Jude Law, you can guess you're on good terms with her, too. Awesome.
Right now I've got a date with White Widow and a huge incoming folder of unsorted music to organize. My current music is pretty awesome--furious and powerful Japanese thrash metal that I recommend to anyone inclined to such things.
* When a quarter is dropped into your cup, you must down it in one. When you're a small Asian guy who gets two cups of hunch punch quartered, you know you'll be the center of attention at the party.