Luke Grown Up

So following a fun night at Heather’s last night and a very specific sequence of dreams, I have drawn the following conclusion: girls are fucking insane. I guess I should re-evaluate that statement. MANY girls are fucking insane. Better?

Now, before I go into specifics, I would like to say that it could just be that I have some fucked up friends and acquaintances. If that’s the case, I pose this question: how did I end up having so many of these people in my life?

Another thing I need to mention: I can’t think of a single guy that I know that is not sane/grounded. I’m sure there is one that I’m forgetting, maybe two. But barring those exceptions, all my guy friends/acquaintances are bordering on normal. My next questions: why does this just affect girls? Is this something inherent in being female? Or is it because something traumatic happened to them early in life? And I’m not talking the regular irrationality that women supposedly host, I’m talking irrationality to the point of insane nonsense.

I have a girl in class that does nothing but talk about herself and her life in discussion. I have a friend that claims that she’s going to get into a guy’s pants every weekend night, but she’s never had sex, let alone given dome. (She also has all these half-baked ideas about her ambitions and the workings of the world, and while relevant, that’s a story for another time.) I have a friend (a girl I like) who will not respond to my phone calls, IMs, or texts - I’ve since just stopped sending them - but in person, sometimes we get a little too close. I have an acquaintance, my friend’s roommate, who is flat-fuck crazy - she cried last night after realizing her roommates are going to be 21, and she’s not 21 until June. She also has this shadowy second life that no one really knows about. I went on a date with a girl that said she liked me, then did the same thing as the girl I like. I dated a girl that was completely off her rocker, who, when we entered college, cut off all contact and started dating some other guy without breaking up with me, and then was shocked when I dumped her ass. I dated another girl that could not orgasm, no matter what I tried - I got her really close, but no dice. (I like to think I’m pretty proficient in bed, and I’ve gotten other girls off multiple times per session, so it wasn’t me. ) I have two friends that get so caught up in drama it makes me sick - they get tired of it, but they keep crawling back to it, even though a rational person would have have no trouble keeping away from it. I had a friend that claimed her name was Juliet, but it was Courtney.

Are these some sort of defense mechanisms to avoid being hurt? I feel like telling some of these girls that though bleak and pessimistic, pain is part of human life. I’m not saying one should seek out painful situations - by no means. Feelin’ good is tops. All I’m saying is that there is the good and the bad in life. They come as a package deal. They balance each other out. And after the bad, the good is that much better. Efforts to cheat the balance will result in some form of insanity, and I mean that. And eventually, it will catch up - I wish cheaters the best of luck on that day. But more importantly, the bad is an experience. It gives one perspective and a more accurate worldview, as opposed to remaining callow and naive, which I suppose some people don’t mind, hence the continuing defensive behavior.

I could keep on going all day. Seriously. These are just the ones that readily come to mind. And it’s not to mention the strumpets. Oh lordy, the strumpets. But let me ask: am I wrong? Is anyone going to call me an asshole and deny all of this? And for the women that agree with my conclusion, can you give me and concrete reasons WHY this is? I’ve gone from tentatively considering this idea to having complete and utter faith in it, but that doesn’t mean I understand it. Furthermore, I can not even picture a guy trying to pull any of this stuff off. It’s ridiculous. And this is also not to say that I don’t have sane female friends. Some of my best female friends are completely solid and down to earth. What the fuck happened with everyone else?

So, until I get this figured out, I’m going to find out as much as I can and ask as many people as I can about this. The truth must be uncovered.

Yesterday was such a beautiful day. Gorgeous. On Friday night John, Heather, Angela, Michael, Ashley, Benny, and I went to McMurphy’s. It was fun, but not really worth an entry, though I did see the Beer Asshole and practically laughed in his face. I’m not sure who did what or everything that happened, but I think the girls and I agreed to go to the Black Sheep, a deli uptown, the next day for lunch. So we wake up and walk downtown. The group is Angela, Ashley, Michael, and me.We’re all getting a little hot in our jeans. As we’re walking, John drives by and beeps. I call him up, he agrees to meet us up there. On the way, we pick up another group member: Ashley’s friend Emily. Angela wins a cookie platter from the front of Subway. A nice surprise.

When we get there, John’s sitting on a ledge next to the police station looking like a total badass with his stubble, aviators, and cigarette hangin’ from his mouth. I take a seat next to him for a second, then we go to the Black Sheep. I start busting John’s chops in a peculiar way that I only do to John. I get Nick’s #1 Pick, which is essentially a Reuben. We take our food across the street to the park and eat it. My sandwich is pretty good. There are half-naked children running around with their parents saying odd things. We sit for an hour or so. I buy an energy drink at the Black Sheep. John leaves to get a keg. Benny drives up and sits with us. We stay for awhile and I contemplate aloud the idea of going to ABC to get a beer and drinking it outside. Ashley likes it. Emily says goodbye after a bit. When a woman that looks like she’s about to call the tow truck on Benny peers into his car windows, we put the plan into action. Benny and I go park his car in the parking garage as the troika walks. I toss change in the meter and Benny and I join them at ABC. They tell us there is a 20 minute wait, I say “Shut it down.” We walk out and head over to the park, where Extravaganja is going on. It’s nothing more than a hippie-fest, so we leave pretty fast. Also due to our speed of egress I didn’t have to stomp any throats.

Benny is hungry, as he hasn’t eaten yet. We cross the street and walk to Antonio’s. When he walks in I inform everyone else that I still want a drink, so I will be stepping into McMurphy’s (next door). Everyone else joins me. We are 5 of the 7 people in there at this point. I order a Guinness and sip, enjoying the weather and the bar. The bartender switches to last night’s Sox game and the Heat game as Benny walks in with his slices. He sits next to me and gets a water. We are having a good time.

By the time I finish my drink, people have started coming in, and I’m ready for number two. I suggest buying a shot and a beer for both Benny and me. He declines. I offer up a pitcher, and he accepts. I order us a pitcher of Michelob Ultra, which is probably the worst beer I’ve ever had. It tastes like a hot engine, and that’s the only way I can describe it. The guys that had come in brought one of their little brothers with them. Since it is pretty dead, the bartender allows him to be there, but he isn’t allowed to drink (obviously - the kid looks like he’s 16). So they’re all having a good time drinking while Little Bro scrolls through the jukebox and looks bored as fuck. One of the guys (Chris Lynch, we learn later) already looks exceptionally drunk. He has his hat on backwards, huge ears, and a generally goofy face. This character will be important later.

As we work on the pitcher, I notice a guy down the bar making googly eyes at me. Well, he isn’t making them AT me, just in my direction - he just happens to have googly eyes and has his head turned towards me. I note this to Angela, who laughs and tells me she was just about to tell me that. Michael looks a little sunburnt, but he is nevertheless having a good time.

After the pitcher, I notice that Ashley had ordered a Corona. I follow suit. Someone puts on some shitty country, so I bounce out of my seat and put on Flaming Lips and Gorillaz. Later I put on Wilco, but I mess it up, and I think the song plays twice. Whoops. Anyway, so I’m sitting at the bar rocking out, drinking my Corona. We settle in as today’s Red Sox game starts. We get another round. More people come in. We all comment that we started the bar. We did start the bar. I predict that we will be there all night, even though none of us sans Benny has yet showered.

The guys that came in right after us are getting hammered. They continue ordering car bombs non-stop. Chris Lynch spills down his shirt a couple times. They play football in the corner, and the bartender tells them to knock it off. More people come. The bartender calls for backup. Chris Lynch starts hitting on Ashley, which amounts to him staring down her shirt. He can’t really talk anymore. Ange gets him to buy us a round. We are happy.

Soon the bartender says he won’t make any more car bombs for that group, as they are too shit-faced. They leave at some point, leaving Chris Lynch behind. He tries to get a drink, but the bartender cuts him off and forces him to leave. Around now, the backup arrives, and the original bartender, who had told us earlier that it was never this busy, leaves. The guy and girl bartenders that just came in are doing a hell of a job keeping up.

After a bit, I realize that I had 3 missed calls from Emily, a friend I had met in a class last semester (a different Emily from the first one in the story - the first Emily doesn’t show up again, so don’t be confused). I go outside, where the weather is still beautiful, and I call her and apologize for missing her calls - she has some stuff at my apartment she has to pick up. I tell her I’ll be out probably for another hour, but I’ll call her when I get back. She’s fine with it. I head back in and watch some more Sox.

Benny gets a tap on his shoulder and turns around. A 40-year-old-looking man explains to Benny that he and his friend are old men, and he would appreciate it if he and I gave up our seats. We’re not budging, but he’s not done yet. He adds that he is willing to buy our next three rounds if we comply. We comply. Benny and I stand at the bar and hang out - no worries. At this point I need to use the bathroom, so I head back and wait in the short line. While I’m standing there, I see Chris Lynch sneak in the back door. I think nothing of this. I pee and when I’m done, I head out to my spot out at the bar. I get there just in time to hear the male bartender yell in Chris Lynch’s face: “NO! YOU HAVE TO LEAVE RIGHT NOW, OR I’M CALLING THE COPS! LEAVE!” The female bartender yells, “Just leave!” but not as loudly. Male Bartender goes to grab the phone off the wall. Chris Lynch leaves. (Note: I find out later that he will sneak in again and get booted again.)

We only scam two rounds off of the old guy, because Benny has to go see Dave Matthews, and I have to go meet Emily. I tell Benny I’ll be waiting outside, and I step out. I forget to say goodbye to everyone else. I apologize. The weather is still great, and it is around 6:30. I sit on a bench in front of McMurphy’s and wait. I nearly fall asleep while sitting there. However, Benny comes out, calls my name, and I get my second wind. We hop in his car (now parked at Cousin’s) and as we’re about to leave, I decide I need smokes. I run in and buy a pack of cloves (Djarum Specials), and I buy Benny his Marlboro Light 100s. We head back home.

When we get there, Benny’s friend Jeff, who is going to the concert too, is waiting in the loop in front of our building. Like the drunken fool I am, I run up and give him a hug. Then I grab some of his stuff and help him bring it in. We get upstairs and I call Emily, telling her I’m back. She heads over. I turn on Gitaroo Man and play a sloppy game. Jeff comes in and asks if I have Rez. I nod and throw it on. He is pumped. He plays the first level and I watch like a bastard, loving it. When he’s done he gives the controller back, and I turn Gitaroo Man on again. As I’m playing, Emily calls. I go down to meet her. I get down there and I am blown away by her haircut - I think it’s incredibly cute, and my drunk mind can’t handle it. I mentally slap myself in the face, then I take her upstairs. She grabs her stuff and goes.

Around now, my stomach starts rumbling. I need food. Fast. I IM Louis and demand that he come to the DC with me. He agrees, and minutes later I grab my old pack of cloves and meet him at his place, and we descend the hill to Worcester. I get a veritable feast: a piece of veal parmesan, a heap of mashed potatoes, some green beans, and a slice of pizza. I am pigging out - I haven’t been this happy to eat in my whole life, I think. Louis gets some mashed potatoes as well, and I eat most of them. He and I leave. On the way back I tell him I have a surprise for him. I whip out the pack of cloves and he loves it. There is only one left (good thing I bought more), so we share it. When we get to my place, he asks if I have any wine. “Uhh, duh,” I reply like a Valley girl. Louis doesn’t understand one thing: like John, I also have a level of safety that I must maintain. My level is at 2 or more bottles of white wine. Even if I drink all of my beer and liquor, so long as I have a couple bottles of wine, I’m safe. A bottle of wine is Instant Drunk for me, so it satisfies.

So we go upstairs and I pull out the bottle of shitty table wine that was chilling in the fridge. I hastily wash a pair of glasses, and we walk down the hall to the girls’. I knock and Lauren answers, the apartment looking a tad dark and eerie for my tastes. I ask if it’s cool if we drink there since my place is a putrid mess (no hyperbole there - rotting food and such lying around), and she’s cool with it. We sit on the couch and I pop the cork. Then I pull the stopper out of the bottle of wine. Lauren alternates between sitting with us and running down the hall to get ready for the evening. Louis alternates between sipping wine and gulping it. I have 2 glasses I think. No worries. Finally, when the bottle is done, Louis and I head out. I say goodbye to Louis and step my hot body into the cool shower. It feels so wonderful to have the water dissipating the heat that I had picked up all day. It calms me down, and I can’t remember the last time I had a shower this enjoyable either. Maybe I should get wasted during the day more often.

Oh, we’re not done yet - the story’s about to get more interesting.

I get out of the shower and towel off. I head to my room and crank some music. For some reason I hypothesize that it’s a brilliant idea to lift weights naked. Once I finish, I conclude that my theory is correct. I get dressed for the evening: some jeans and a button-down shirt that I have yet to wear. I fix my hair and all that boring shit, then I grab two Caribs (cheap Caribbean beer) and head down the hall.

When I arrive, everyone is back. Mike’s friend Ho comes in. We all hang out for awhile, playing a few games of quarters and all that. Lindsey, Joey, and their friend show up. The first two of the group take copious amounts of tequila shots. Around now I start to get a little depressed - Everyone is going to an invite-only party, and I’m not invited (among other reasons that are not blogworthy). So my night is about to come to an end. I text John and tell him to come out. He and I text back and forth, but he never gives me a final answer. However, Ho doesn’t want to go to the party, and Angela’s sister’s fiancee is at Charlie’s, so the four of us decide to go there. I get a weird feeling of dread for a second, but the news cheers me up immediately otherwise.

Around 11:30, we finally head out. We park at Charlie’s and get ready to go inside. Then things change for Luke: I see Sara’s friend. Shit. That means Sara can’t be far behind.

For those of you that didn’t read last post, read it. For the lazy ones, Sara was a girl I went on a date with the previous weekend who turned out to be a lemon. Like a car. A fuckin’ jalopy. You gotta read the post, because the extent of the jalopy-ness can only be told there - I’m not telling it again.

So anyway, we’re standing in line behind her friend, and her friend yells, “SARA!!!” I quickly snap my head to the right to see where she is - I see her standing between two cars, faced away. Good - this means I don’t have to make eye contact. I avert my gaze immediately and get in line with my friends. Somehow I get stuck at the end of the line. And as usual, my ID is scanned. Terrific. I finally get through and follow my friends to the bar. I meet Angela’s sister’s fiancee, who I will now call Clarence because I can’t remember his name. And guess what happens next? Sara and her friend box me in at the bar. So I do the first thing that comes to mind: I jump ship.

I have been a big fan of running away for a long time. Something about it makes it so hilariously childish - probably the fact that literally running away from problems is something a child would do. I remember this one night when I was a freshman, I was at the FSC radio station and some girl was all over me like gravy on mashed potatoes. I needed to get out. So I ripped my arm loose from her grasp, threw open the door to the outside, and dashed home. I didn’t stop running until I got into my building. Thinking about it even then, I thought it was awesome.

Basically, I tell Mike I had to make a phone call, then I go outside and call John, lighting up a clove. I think we speak briefly, but the gist is that he’s not coming. “Fuck it,” I say, and I make my way to Delano’s alone. On the way I notice Kara had called me, so I call her back and I chat with her and Heather for a couple minutes. Then I call Ange to tell her where I am, but she doesn’t answer.
Delano’s is pretty busy. I have to struggle to get to the bar to get a drink. I want a Bud Light draft, but I end up ordering a bottle instead. I have no cash, so I open a tab. When I get my beer, I take it to the bathroom and drink it while I pee. I imagine that it’s going directly through me into the toilet, and I giggle. They both look and taste the same anyway. When I’m done I head out and stand against the wall until I finish. A townie and his woman get up and offer me their seats. I take one of them. I ask what the minimum tab is. “10 bucks,” the bartender replies. I tell him to keep the Bud Lights comin’.

3 more beers and less than 45 minutes later, I am hammered. I gotta go though for some reason - an impulse is driving me. I turn to my right as I’m finishing my beer and see someone from a class last semester. I say hi to her, but she doesn’t seem too thrilled to see me. I shrug and start to get out of my seat, when I see Lauren, a friend of mine from a class this semester. She runs over and gives me a big hug. We talk for a quick minute, then I tell her I have to go. I leave and it breaks my heart - she’s gorgeous.

I mosey on back to Charlie’s, where I don’t even care about those girls anymore. I go up to Mike and he is a little surprised to see me. I tell him about the phone trouble, and we exchange numbers. He jokes around with me a bunch. We bond. After I pull my dick from his ass, we get along great.

The bar’s closing, so we get out and walk uptown to a party that someone knows about. We get there and someone offers me a beer. I drink most of it and put the can in the corner on the floor. All of a sudden there is a loud knock on the door. Someone opens the door, and all of a sudden all of tenants are getting arrested. I think it’s for noise, though that makes no sense. We scurry out. We grab a ride home with Clarence and his friend.

We get inside, and I contemplate playing Final Fantasy VII for awhile. Realizing this is a bad idea, I get ready for bed and pass out nice and hard.

Wish you were here John, wish you were here.

It is now Patriot’s Day. I have spent the past 4 nights drinking excessively and eating nothing but pizza in various locations. I will now attempt to untangle the weekend’s events in my mind and transfer them to this lovely blog.

As far as I know, Thursday and Friday was the less eventful half of the weekend. However, that definitely doesn’t mean nothing happened. Thursday night I celebrate being done with all of the shit that has been stressing me out for weeks. As is my custom, this means going out and getting blotto. Prior to this, Ashley makes me and Lindsey dinner , and I relish the delicious pasta that fills my bowl. I have a couple of drinks while still at the girls’ (Golden Anniversary - the nectar of the gods) and then John comes over. The girls are thrilled to see him. We sit around, drinking some beers, having a good time. I finish my liquid gold and sip a Sam Adams White Ale. At around 10:30, we all decide to depart. John and I leave first by way of his car so that we can go grab a drink before their bus arrives. We decide from there that John will just drive home and I’ll catch the bus. Works for me.

John and I drive uptown and go to ABC. We see Anthony, who buys us each a Guinness. Then we see Brett, another friend of ours. So we’re hanging out, having a drink, then we leave to head to McMurphy’s, where everyone is. We walk in and go down the stairs, and everyone is there - including Lindsey, who is completely not of legal age. I am very surprised to see her there. We drink and have a merry time. Later on I break a clove and have to bum a smoke off Linds.

The night is fairly normal, so there’s nothing else to report. The next day the girls and I skip class and get breakfast sandwiches at the Pita Pit. Walking around with no cares in the world while others are dressed for class is an odd experience. After a lengthy meal, we go to the Mullins Center so the girls can get their Spring Concert tickets. Then over to Southwest so I can pick up my ALA acceptance letter. Then to Hampshire DC so the girls can get free food (Lauren works there, so we just walk in the back door). Then on back to the duck pond, where we watch the ducks for a good hour. We feed them Golden Grahams. One of them bites me, but it doesn’t hurt. Then home.

Ash has to leave at 3 AM that night to go to the airport, so she decides to stay up drinking. I think it’s a fabulous idea. That night we order Antonio’s Pizza. I get a whole pie, so there are plenty of leftovers. Then we go to Delano’s - there is a sweet band playing, and I rock out. I haven’t rocked out this hard since some long unknown time ago. We all yell “Whoopty-woooo” a lot.

Saturday night is where it gets interesting. The girls aren’t sure about what they want to do. Ashley is gone, and Lauren and Angela are sort of tired. I convince them to get their drink on, and we proceed to drink for a bit. I say I want to go out, so we agree to go to Charlie’s. I call some people to see if they want to come out, including John and De. John says he is too drunk to drive, as his housemates have thrown a keg party. De says they are hanging at her place, but she wants us to come. We want to go there and go uptown, but we have no way to get to De’s and then from there uptown, because she lives off the bus line. She offers up her brother to pick us up, and I say it’s a smashing idea. We get ready to roll.

Now, I am only telling this part because it is absolutely crucial to the events that are going to follow, both that night and the next day. So De’s brother Kenny gets here after I give him instructions. They wonder if Kenny has been drinking, but he says he’s sober, as does De. I grab two Caribs (real cheap beer I discovered the day before),and the girls and I head downstairs. Kenny’s friend Dan, shitfaced, sits shotgun (like that alliteration, eh? Eh? Eh?! I suck). We pile into the back seat. Dan had to open the door to let us in (2-door car), but he hasn’t shut it, and Kenny is starting to drive away. They just narrowly miss hitting a parked car with the door. I begin to get The Fear.

For those of you that don’t know what The Fear is, it’s that feeling you get in the pit of your stomach that something is about to go terribly wrong, so you must extricate yourself from the situation as soon as possible. There is not always a reason for The Fear when it first happens- it comes when it wants, but usually has a purpose. Diaz once got The Fear at 3 AM for seemingly no reason when we were driving around. 10 minutes later his tire was flat. Luckily we were near Ross’, but we were freaked out changing a tire on the road at that time, high as kites (this was quite a few years ago). That’s The Fear.

So we leave the North area and Kenny almost runs down 6 or so pedestrians trying to cross the street. I get worried, and Angela and Lauren get out of the car at the stoplight. When the light turns green, he cuts off a driver as he turns left. I get really worried. The girls are walking uptown, it appears. I get Kenny into the middle of town and get out of the car at Bertucci’s to call the girls. They don’t answer. I start to walk back to meet them. I give my beers to Kenny and Dan as they leave. I feel like a huge asshole. I see the girls on the bus, so I run to catch them. Outside Charlie’s, I catch them and feel like absolute shit for what just happened. They are okay, I’m okay, so I guess that’s all that matters. They are glad I got out. I am too. Onward to Charlie’s.

So we get inside and as usual my ID gets scanned, because no one thinks I look old enough to go to a bar. We grab a seat at the bar, and I buy us a round of drinks to make up for what just happened. I get a huge beer. I am sipping it, but I need the bathroom. I go down the hall, pee, and come back, squeezing by this girl I deem cute that is standing next to me. She gets a big drink, and I ask her what it is. Apparently it’s a “Buddha”. Interesting. I ask the girls if she’s cute, and they say she’s cute. Somehow the two of us start talking, and we introduce ourselves. Her name is Sara. We talk about our lives and my stitched thumb. I buy her a drink, and she doesn’t care that I don’t have enough money to pay for it. Maybe she doesn’t notice. I dunno. In conversation it comes up that she’s a 26-year-old grad student. VERY interesting. She goes to the bathroom. I scheme on how to get her number. She comes back: “So do you want my number?” Of course I do. I get it. I ask her what she’s doing the next day, she says she’s going to see The 400 Blows at the new-fangled Amherst Cinema. I invite myself along. I go pee again and laugh my ass off at the situation. I was probably quite a scene, pissing like no one’s business and dying laughing.

So the bar’s closing, and we hop on the bus at the last second. On the way home, the girls demand piggybacks. I oblige. Then when we get back, they’re being absolutely ridiculous. I’ll leave it at that. I call Tha HIZ to tell him what happened. He thinks it’s funny. Lauren talks to him and tells him about how I said it’d be epic if they had sex. He loves it. He’s always loved it.

The next night isn’t really that interesting, as far as I remember, but that day is VERY interesting. So I go on this date. Mind you, it’s cold and pouring. I am wearing my double-breasted wool coat and winter gloves with my umbrella above my head. My legs are getting wet. I meet Sara at her place on Phillips Street. She’s a little less attractive than I remember. We walk up to the Cinema. I buy our tickets, and in we go. We talk a little and I notice something slightly off about the way she speaks. I ignore it. The movie is okay. Then we go to get coffee next door. I buy our drinks. I go to grab my coffee as she sits down. I notice she has a wet spot on her shirt between her boobs. I ignore it, because I figure she spilled or something. So we get to talking, and we talk about books and a few movies, about our lives, and so on. Nothing ground-shattering. I’m being the perfect gentleman - watching my speech, my language, and all that good stuff - I want to impress the grad student. She gets up to get another cup of hot cocoa. All of a sudden, The Fear returns in a different form: a wave of anxiety flows through me, piercing my sober thoughts. I can not describe what it feels like, but I can tell you it doesn’t feel good. I text Angela: “I wanna come home”, and I don’t want to come home any time in history more than this moment. Then I get an idea: I’ll just try to offend her so she won’t want stay. I nod to myself and compose my master plan of ball-bustery. She comes back, and I see the wet spot still resides in the middle of her chest - turns out it must be a grease spot. No good. She tucks her hair behind her ear and I notice the hearing aid. This is not going my way at all. (Note: later, John will ask me why I didn’t think she was half-deaf when I saw her at the bar and she was speaking oddly, and I will reply, “I just thought she was drunk!” John will laugh.) She talks about Mark Twain, and I think about eating a slice of pizza. So I break out my plan. I rampantly start calling various authors and filmmakers “pricks”, and I refer to certain movies and books as “garbage”. I repeat the word several times and offer no other qualifying critique. Nothing works, this girl is still smiling. She talks about her old job working in a bank vault, and I ask if she ever got locked in. When she says she hasn’t I say, “Well that’s just too bad.” I start offering up nonsense - I claim that the clients of her bank put basketballs in their safe deposit boxes. She didn’t really get it - she simply agreed with what I was saying. This is no good. This is no good at all. I had to get out. So at the nearest convenience I say we should go. I walk her home, she tells me to call her sometime, I say I will, though the voice in my head is screaming ABSOLUTELY NOT. As I’m walking away, I say aloud, “Nope!” while shaking my head. My legs get drenched on the trek home. Some asshole drives through a puddle and splashes me a little.

When I get home, I put on some dry PJs and grab a slice and some milk from the fridge. I go to the girls’, where the girls are waiting in anticipation to hear every detail. I shake my head a lot when I tell the story. I realize as I’m telling the story that she never thanked me for buying her stuff, nor did she even offer to pay, which, even if she had no intention of paying, is not good etiquette. I curse her.

When I tell the story to John, he loves the part where she just keeps getting worse and worse with each passing minute. My favorite part is when I punch her.

Though it was tough, it taught me a couple things. First of all, as much as I like to say I value intelligence, that can only go so far. I don’t like literature and film - I like books and movies. I can’t watch or read garbage anymore. Second, it told me that intelligence is third on the list of desirable personality traits in a girl - Humor is first, and coolness is a close second, though I think the two are hand-in-hand. Intelligence falls a bit lower on importance. I mean, common sense is important, but I want someone that laughs and can make me laugh, not someone who waxes philosophical about Proust. If I wanted to go to bed I could shoot some NyQuil and turn out the lights.

Later that night we order more pizza. From Dominos. It is terrible.

This might surprise all of you, given the fact that I am currently a godless cynic whose sole source of salvation is getting a laugh at any expense, even taking cheap shots at 9/11 (it isn’t too soon, shut the fuck up), but at one point (albeit one very brief point) I was very religious. VERY religious. To the point of scaring and pissing off others. But it wasn’t entirely my fault: I was brainwashed. Bona fide, creepy, stuff-you-read-about-in-conspiracy-novels brainwashed.

Let’s jump right in, shall we? Allow me to start by explaining this: my whole life, I was raised in the Catholic church. I got all my sacraments, attended every Sunday, was an altar boy, worked in the rectory (yeah, yeah, I know, insert priest joke here, you’re very original you fucking prick), and I was in the CYO. But I hated church. I didn’t like going there, but they paid me to work for them, so obviously I had to act the part. I went every Sunday when I was younger because I was forced - never any fun to go to church. I joined the CYO so I could chaperone the dances, though I don’t really know why that was appealing in any respect. Then they gave me a scholarship when I graduated high school. Basically, I used the shit out of the church. I don’t feel bad about it at all - all I was doing was indirectly taking money from moronic parishioners who subscribed to the bullshit that I couldn’t get behind.

But all of that changed. About halfway through high school, one of the priests named Father Kim (a Korean man who has done his share of making people feel incredibly uncomfortable in one way or another - that’s a different, less interesting story) essentially dissolved the CYO and turned it into something called “Life Teen”, which tried really hard to make God “cool” and failed miserably. It had its own mass 5 or 5:30 on Sundays, and afterward we’d talk God and get free food. People came for the food, but even then, turnout was sparse. It fuckin’ sucked, is why. I remember this one time they had a retreat for it that I went to, and I left early because I was going to a Sigur Ros concert. I’m so glad I was able to go see them, not only because it was an amazing concert, but also because at the end of this retreat you had to give a confession. That is some major bullshit right there - it was a trap. But nothing was a bigger trap than Catholic Leadership Institute.

I don’t really know much about CLI, as it was called - I think they’re some national group that sets up these retreats. So I guess it was the summer before senior year of high school, and my parents signed me up to go to this thing. I was pretty mad that they’d do that without telling me, and just writing about it now is getting me a little fired up. It must have been the first week in July, because the AIM profiles I’ve saved point to that (I’ll get to this side-story later - it’s funny as shit). This thing was at Merrimack College in Massachusetts, so I pack up my shit and away we go.

I get there and I figure I’ll be open-minded, or at least pleasant - I didn’t want to make any trouble. Basically, the whole week was a lot of leadership activities, like planning a fake event, leading prayer, etc. Also, we did a lot of group talking, like sharing the things we were thankful for (we did this every day). I remember a couple things that stand out.

First, that is where I met Nick Bruce, a cool dude who used to go to UMass, but has since dropped out to pursue his passion: drugs, as the wise John D’Ambrisi has informed me. I just found this out the other day. Crazy. So Nick, I, and a couple other dudes would play poker every night just to have some fun. I remember that well.

I remember this guy Brendan teaching me my party trick: the fish flop. Ask to see it sometime.

I also remember this really cute girl catching my eye the first day at a meal. By the end of the week we were thick as thieves. It breaks my heart that she’s still religious though.

But the thing I remember the most is the feelings that crept up in me as the week progressed. I began to pray and think about God, as well as have deep discussions about everything with this other guy Bill. Everyone was incredibly nice, so it was hard NOT to like them. These feelings were getting bigger and bigger, building to a bursting point. These feelings had something to do with the small amount of sleep we were getting, which was at most 8 hours a night, but usually less. Any experienced brainwasher can tell you that sleep deprivation is an excellent way to break someone’s spirit so you can mold them however you wish. All of these feelings exploded one night at mass when I was kneeling and praying. All of a sudden, this wave of warmth passed through me, and I was euphoric, I thought God had touched me.

For weeks after this I was a douchebag. I hardly remember it - I do remember coming back home and going to MelDiva (RIP), a coffee shop that was in Franklin at the time, and hugging everyone, generally spreading the douchebaggery. I also remember watching a lot of movies because I didn’t want to be around people that were drinking or something stupid. Slowly, the feelings started to wear off, and finally, I was back to normal. Only within the past year or two have I realized that I was brainwashed in the most powerful sense of the word. The experience was very important though - it led me to become who I am: a pissed-off atheist. Yes, atheist. I mulled it over for awhile, but I’ve finally decided that there’s no god but Pizza. And though Pizza is amazing, it is not a deity. Therefore, there is no god. And there’s no problem with that - it’s actually very liberating.

A couple of funny after-effects of this brainwash garbage. A couple weekends ago when Diaz and Fred came here, somehow this subject came up. Diaz was saying I was so shitty. I was curious, and I asked him what I did to be so shitty. He was like, “Well you came back and you were saying, ‘Dude, I gotta be good, I can’t keep doing this. I’m not gonna say “nigger” anymore, and I can’t make fun of retards…’” At this point, I fucking lost it. The fact that I said this was funny because I, of all people, said it. I am an offensive bastard - it’s who I am. Secondly, the fact that I was being so serious about it made me lose my shit when Diaz said this. I’m laughing really hard, and I say, “What was I thinking?!” After realizing that most normal people would actually not say ‘nigger’ or make fun of retards, I realized how terrible of a person I was/am. This just made me laugh even harder. No need to tell me - I know I’m a piece of garbage. But at least I’m going to outlive all those kids with cancer.

Secondly, I mentioned before that I had a log of my profiles for awhile. I think I did it for about a year. They have provided me with an interesting cross-section of my thought processes around that time, Anyway, when I came back from CLI, this was the opening of my info:

CLI…the least I can possibly call it is a life-changing experience. All of the wonderful people I met, all of the things I learned, not only about leadership but about myself, all of the great times. There is still much to learn, but I am well on my way to discovering myself and this world in which we live. I am no longer afraid to take chances, and I am no longer afraid to be who I am. I love everyone.

Fuckin’ a, right? For awhile, I still had stupid shit in my info, like “An embrace is a transfer of spirit”or something equally pathetic. Finally, 11 months later, on 6/4/04, I found this gem:

The best nights are the ones where you spend absolutely no money, yet still manage to get piss drunk and crash into the million man march.

To this day that still makes me laugh, and when I read it right before I started writing this post, I knew that I was back.

Well, I have to run. This weekend has been great so far, let’s see if we can get enough stuff together to post an entry about it.

When I was a junior in high school, my senior friend Bill told me about this class he was taking. It was called Electricity, and it was taught by Mr Hoar (pronounced “whore”), my favorite Physics teacher - a really punny guy that was also incredibly nice, but he was a good teacher as well. All around, great guy. Bill said that it was so easy and fun. When I was a senior, I figured, why not? I don’t want to do any work. So I took it, and it ended up being the best class of my high school career.

Let me set this up for you folks that didn’t go to Franklin High and are unaware of the notoriety of this class. First of all, it was all male. Just by chance, but also, it had to do with the subject material, and probably the fact that it was a known “guy class,” which isn’t really a reasonable explanation. So all guys. Not just any guys though: some of The Crew was in there with me. The Crew is my group of friends from high school. We were pretty big - ten or so core members and some fringe members (people we hung out with on occasion that were also cool, but we didn’t hang with them as much as core Crew). In this class, I had Ross, a ridiculous goofball wop that always made me laugh, Kurt, the original dynamoaf, Adam, a junior that hung out with us because of his membership in Stream, FHS’ favorite band that I was also in (we weren’t that good, but girls loved us for some reason), and James, a guy Kurt hung out with a lot that just added another level of disrespect to the class that I could not even fathom. I mean disrespect in a good way, because he made some hilarious moments happen.

So this class was basically a big joke. We spread the word around, and we would always have guests randomly show up. D’Errico, another of the Crew, would often come and hang out while we did work. Hoar didn’t care at first, but after awhile he’d boot people. The visits made the class even better. But the best part was the stuff that we as a class did in that room. Since Mr. Hoar was so laid-back, he let a lot of stuff slide that really would have pissed off other teachers. Here are a bunch of stories that I can remember that are funny.

One thing that occurred for the first time midway through the year and persisted as a popular event was throwing shit at Mr. Hoar’s dick. It started one day with a wily scheme and a ball of paper. As he was standing at the front of the room, one of us (probably Adam) pitched the ball at Hoar’s crotch. Hoar flinched and it hit his thigh. We thought this was hilarious. The abuse continued as the weeks past. I’ll never forget the day Kurt threw a whiteboard marker at his crotch and it nailed him. The look on his face while he leaned on his desk for support while his groin ached was priceless.

Another recurring event was Adam’s insistence of watching the Super Bowl Shuffle in class. For those of you that don’t know what that is, I’ll explain. In 1985, the Chicago Bears made it to Super Bowl XX. They then recorded a song called The Super Bowl Shuffle, which apparently made it to the tops of the charts. The Bears won the Super Bowl, and the song exploded. There was also a music video that was ridiculous. Adam was a huge Bears fan, so naturally he owned an original tape of it. All the time he asked Mr. Hoar to watch it, and every time Mr. Hoar shot it down, obviously. Adam kept raving about it, and the tape developed a cult following before any of us had even seen it.

Then one morning we were going to watch a video at the beginning of class. We were all there, and the television set was waiting for us. Mr. Hoar popped in the video but didn’t start it, and he left the room for a second. We took this opportunity to take the Super Bowl Shuffle out of a drawer on the side of the room (it had found a home there due to Adam’s constant pleadings) and replaced it in the VCR. So Mr. Hoar comes in, hits play, and there’s a black screen. He thinks it’s the movie. Then the song and video start up. We are enthralled, and Mr. Hoar realizes immediately what is going on. He springs to his feet and shuts it off while we all groan. He was pretty pissed off.

To this day I still haven’t seen it. They managed to watch it two times with Mr. Hoar’s permission, and of course I was there neither day, I think because of college visits. The last time a viewing was attempted (I was present, and I think the same thing I mentioned earlier happened again), Mr. Hoar ripped the tape out of the VCR and threw it in the trash. Adam lost The Super Bowl Shuffle that day. We continue to mourn his loss.

We also pulled other pranks on Mr. Hoar much of the time. The only reason we did them was because we knew we could get away with them.

To understand this prank, you have to understand that our classroom was not anyone’s personal room - therefore, when not in use, it was always locked. So before class, there’d be about 20 rowdy boys hanging out in the hallway, waiting to get in. On some days, Mr. Hoar just wouldn’t be there on time, so one of the assistant principals would let us in. Most of the time, we went in, turned on the lights, and did the usual fuckshittery, but some days we would all hide under desks and in cabinets and turn the lights off. When Mr. Hoar would unlock the door and come in (I think the door relocked automatically), he would turn on the lights, then we would all pop out and yell, “SURPRISE!” Then we would proceed to sing Happy Birthday to him. We did this several times, including once on his actual birthday, I believe. I also believe on one of those days. we actually brought in cake - I don’t believe it was his birthday when we did it. Every time we did it, he just gave us a look, like “So this is what my job has come to” sort of thing.

One prank that was spoiled was when Adam and/or Ross was going to call Mr. Hoar’s phone from another classroom (the theater room across the hall) and keep harassing him. The prank is on the verge of happening, when something happens. Jordan Hill walks into the room. A quick sidenote - Jordan was another class member, but most of the time, he was not really thinking. He was incredibly skinny and in 10th grade math he was at the board pointing out something on the screen for the overhead projector, which was projecting problems. He started writing on the screen. Someone quickly told him was he was doing, and he whipped around and ended up looking directly into the overhead’s light, got blinded, let out a cry, and fell to the ground. Another time Kurt thought he was Chris Diaz from behind. So Jordan’s had his share of mishaps. Anyway, so Jordan comes in and loudly announces, “Hey did Adam call his phone yet?” We all started swearing at him. Mr. Hoar caught on, and the prank was finished.

Another common occurrence was Adam’s using Mr. Hoar’s computer. He would just sit on it for most of class, checking the weather and sports scores. I don’t know why Mr. Hoar didn’t care at all - only once in awhile would he boot Adam. I think because he loved him.

Well, this one time Adam sat down to do his usual routine at the computer. The monitor was off, so he switched it on, but there was no picture. Then all of a sudden, the monitor made this noise: “ssssssssssss-pok” . And then Adam said: “Uh oh…” We all laughed. Mr. Hoar was pissed. The monitor was completely busted. But the thing is, Adam didn’t even do anything - it died on its own. Nevertheless, Mr. Hoar blamed Adam for the whole thing. We all giggled like schoolgirls.

However, nothing ever became of the monitor incident because Mr. Hoar loved Adam. He used to call him nicknames, which stemmed from one time that Ross went on Adam’s screen name when we were sophomores and pretended to be him, stating that his name was “Afam Kumelt” (this set of IM conversations is known simply as “The Derfelt Files,” and may have been lost forever). We called Adam “Afam” in class, and Mr. Hoar caught on to the idea and started making up stuff, like Alam Fanbelt and Aram Deerpelt. The best was one day when Adam left the room for some reason, probably to skip class. Mr. Hoar leaned out into the hallway and yelled, “Hey! Abraham Dirtbag! Get back here!” Since then, that has been a popular nickname for Adam.

Adam and Ross were always teaming up to do something ridiculous. Usually they got in trouble for it too. I’ll never forget the day that Adam and Ross got written up. Since the theater room was right across the hall, there would sometimes be a piano in the hall. One day Ross and Adam decided to leave class and play the piano. But that wasn’t enough - Adam pushed it down the hall while Ross sidestepped next to it, playing some ridiculous stride tune as the piano made its trek to the end of the corridor. Obviously, Mr. Hoar was ripped. He wrote them up for it. Actually, only one of them got written up - I think it was Ross, because Adam never got in trouble for anything anywhere, especially in Electricity.

Ross and Adam would constantly be spitting all over each other too. It was pretty gross, but hilarious too. They would chase each other around the room and spit all over each other. Any time Adam spit on Ross’ leg (which was frequently), Ross would wipe it off in a humorous fashion. The same applied when he spilled liquid on himself.

This leads me to the most disgusting thing we ever did in that class. Before we ever had a bottle of shit, we had a bottle of spit. This was absolutely terrible. Just thinking about it now makes me want to gag. So one day we all decide we’re going to collect our spit in an Aquafina bottle. Terrific idea, right? So we pass the bottle around, spitting into the bottle cap and pouring it into the bottle. I think the bottle went around twice - we barely got any in there, but everyone was trying not to throw up - it was truly disgusting. We abandoned the project soon after its start, and we were all relieved. Ross probably got yelled at while we were doing that.

Speaking of Ross getting in trouble, he would frequently write ridiculous things on the board. He wrote “Boobs” on the board one day, and nothing became of it - I think it stayed up there for the entire class. But another time, he wrote “Mr. Whore” on the board and got detention. Mr. Hoar was weird sometimes.

One time I was standing by the cabinets on the side of the room where everyone (mostly Adam) stashed their stuff. I went into one of the the drawers and took out a book and started looking at it. I put it back, and started to back up and turn around. I backed into Ross, who was standing directly behind me with his chest puffed out. He yelled, “BBBBBBOOKS” in my ear and startled me quite badly. My heart raced as I nearly peed myself laughing.

Then of course, there are the quotes. One day the group at my table was just sitting there, talking about something unimportant. Mr. Hoar is sitting with us, grading something. All of a sudden he looks up and says, “Did somebody just say ‘mung’?” Though we had said it before, we had not said anything of the sort in our conversation. We all cracked up because he was being serious - he thought he heard ‘mung’.

Another time James ordered Mr. Hoar to “drink my daily diarrhea.” He got an ADP, which is a 2-hour detention where you can’t do anything but homework.

The last thing I’ve got is a quote from a Mr. Andrew Carroll. This guy meant well, but we gave him shit for no reason - he didn’t deserve it at all. One day Adam was shooting spitballs at him from across the room. He hit him in the neck a couple times. Mr. Hoar is teaching at the board. Andrew gives Adam a look that says “stop,” but Adam shoots another one. While Mr. Hoar is talking, Andrew yells, “Fuck you Derfelt!!!” We all just stared. The two of them had to go after school to talk to Mr. Hoar for that one.

As you can tell, this was one bullshit class. What really blows me away is that this was an Honors class, as I was just reminded by Bill. Complete garbage! How that class was considered Honors I’ll never understand. I know I’m forgetting some things, including the bad things that I said that I had to stand in front of the class and explain. Anyone from that class, let me know what I’m missing.

I don’t want to type out a whole story, because for the most part nothing ridiculous happened. I want to say two things: first, fuck the guys playing country all night at the bar. That was rude and unnecessary. When my Cake song played, I was overjoyed, and though Cake is awesome, I shouldn’t be so excited when a good song comes on that I ignore everyone else and start singing it.

Second, fuck you John, for buying me a Red Bull and vodka, the one thing I said I didn’t want. You know I can’t take vodka, and my inability to speak and walk pretty much immediately after drinking it should have been a clue.

Actually, one more thing: Fuck you Luke, for actually drinking that shit. Show some fucking restraint, cockface.

I’m supposed to be picked up by my parents at 1 for dinner. It’s 11 AM and I’m still drunk. RUH ROH.

There isn’t much of a story here - it’s real short. Last night I went out with Richards, Ash, and Lauren. We were with Ange, Michael (her boyfriend), and their friend Matt, but we got separated, and it ended up just being the original four of us. So we’re uptown and Lauren is passing out in the corner. She needs to leave. I volunteer to go with her so that she doesn’t get in trouble. We end up going back to her apartment, making Mickeroni and Cheese (Mickey Mouse pasta) and watching That 70’s Show. All is quiet for a little bit.

Then in comes a big group of people sans Richards, who had gone home. Shortly after they all arrive, in my drunken haze I notice that there is a really nice beer mug sitting on the table. I ask where it came from, because it is really nice. I realize that they had gone to the Moan And Dove and had stolen it. I shake my head. Not that upset though, more just as a show.

Then this guy Trevor starts trying to rationalize the theft using marketing as an excuse - he’s trying to tell me that they want people to steal the glasses, because it’s free advertising.

Let me say something about this guy. Last night, immediately after he finished spouting this bullshit, I ran back here and made a note to myself so I wouldn’t forget what to say about him (though who could really forget). My actual note begins “Trevor - Beer asshole”. So that’s what he is, and it’s fitting.

So he’s sitting there bestowing the value of stealing mugs and glasses from bars with his parted hair and his maroon sweater and his slurred speech. He’s being incredibly condescending, so much so that I am getting uncomfortable. That’s when I notice the black fleece vest he is wearing over his sweater with the words “Ducks Unlimited” embroidered on the breast, accompanied by an embroidered pair of ducks. He immediately loses all credibility. I start glaring at him skeptically and not paying attention to what he says, stifling my laughter so I don’t laugh in his face. I simply nod when he makes eye contact.

When I finally leave for good, I settle into my room and crank the volume on my receiver and jam out while playing Gitaroo Man. I’m having a great time. Then I hear a knock at my door. I assume it’s an ALA, because it’s really late and I’m being incredibly loud. I look through the peephole and I can’t tell who it is. I open the door, and there’s Beer Asshole in the flesh. Apparently someone had told him to come to me to get a cigarette. First, I don’t have any cigarettes - only cloves. I assume someone said I had cigarettes. Nonetheless, I’m not ready to surrender one of my cloves to a guy that tries to put himself up on a pedestal with his faux wisdom, much less to a guy wearing a ridiculous vest while doing so. Hell, I wouldn’t even give one to any stranger wearing such an article. I pretend to look for them and after a minute of fake search, I tell him I lost them. He leaves and I go back to my game. I am annoyed.

And my stitches are healing up nicely. I thought I had ripped them out several times last night because I kept using my left hand like an asshole, but it turns out I was fine. They really look sweet though.

So! This week has been a complete bust - I’ve been working my ass off more than I have the entire semester. Last night I had a Chem exam that I fuckin’ bombed, so I wasn’t too thrilled. Here are the events after that:

I walk back to my room, pissed off. I know that my night’s not over yet, for I have a shitload of OWLs (online Chem problems) due at midnight, and it’s 8:30. When I get back, I help Lauren get a codec to watch a movie on her computer, and the girls sans Ash are playing Karaoke Revolution. They tell me to come over when I’m done with my work. I agree, still in bad spirits.

I come back here and pour myself a stiff whiskey and coke. Then I get to work on the OWLs. Two hours and two drinks later, I’m finally done. I give my monitor the finger and grab a bottle of wine (what else is new) on my way to the girls’. I get there and Carrie and Angela are the only ones there - Ash and Laur had gone to the bars. I shrug and open my wine. The girls are doing the crossword puzzle at the table, so I sit with them and we attempt to solve it. Save one glass, I drink the entire bottle of wine in about an hour. I’m feelin’ good. Angela vanishes to talk to her boyfriend, and Carrie and I hang out and discuss American foreign policy. Okay, we actually discuss Nick At Nite, which is a crucial issue in contemporary American society. I leave so Carrie can go to bed, and as I’m walking out their door my stomach starts feeling quite empty. I think about what to eat when I get back.

I sit around for a little bit while watching Nick At Nite (the final Cosby Show) and I decide to finish off a bag of chips I had bought a few weeks ago. When that’s finished, I wonder what else to eat. I can’t remember why, but I go down to Benny’s room, and he shows me a funny video of this foreign woman getting in trouble with the police because her dog bit a passerby, and she keeps claiming the dog bites her “vagina” (a direct quote). As a response, I show him one of the baby-kicking videos that I’ve come to love. He too loves it within moments.

Benny is going outside for a cigarette, so I take my last Black And Mild and join him. It’s a bit cold out, and being April, I’m pretty pissed off. We get back inside and I decide that a couple frozen hamburgers are in order. I spray down the frying pan and turn on the stove. Then I take out the frozen patties. There are three left frozen together, and I only want two. I put them out for a minute to let them thaw enough that I can separate them with ease, but I grow impatient - I want my fuckin’ burgers. So I take out this utility knife that’s about 6 or 7 inches long and pretty slender. I try to force it between the patties. It slides through - success. In fact, there was so much success that it slid between the burgers at a rapid rate and slid directly into my thumb. This wasn’t your run-of-the-mill puncture wound- this was ridiculous. Deep. Almost an inch deep. I’m positive I saw either bone or something resembling bone (it was white) - yet it is a straight, clean cut. I am in shock. I say, “Uhh, Benny, can you come here for a minute?” Thinking I made a mess or something, he comes down the hall way as I’m bleeding profusely into the sink. I show him the laceration and I tell him, “I think I have to go to the hospital.” He says we can go to Health Services because they are open 24 hours. He gives me some paper towels and I wrap my thumb. We throw on jackets and I toy with the idea of putting up an away message. I start laughing. Benny puts one up. Thy cleans up my blood and freaks out of his stoner head when he sees the wound. I laugh. I ask him calmly to put the one burger that didn’t fall on the floor back in the fridge. He zips up my leather jacket. Benny and I leave, but I run down to the girls’ and knock, because I want them to see this motherfucker. No one answers. It is now about 2 AM. We rush downstairs and hop in Benny’s car.

When we arrive at Health Services, I ring the bell. A young man comes to the door to let us in. I tell him my hand is really cut open. He takes a look and lets us right in. The Nurse Practitioner on duty looks at it and gasps as my blood drips on the floor. I’m going to need stitches. The young man takes me into a room and cleans and dresses the wound. I’m telling him what happened and making jokes. That is the tone of the night- my hand’s a gaping wound, and I’m busting jokes and breaking stones.

Well, right about the time we got there, the place started getting busy. There were a couple really drunk people, one of whom had pissed himself, an assault, and some other people. So I wasn’t at the top of the list. I’m not concerned. I flip on Nick At Nite and indulge in several episodes of the Fresh Prince. I then have Benny call Thy to get Lauren’s number so I can tell her what happened. I give her a call and she’s drunk, but sounds worried as she calls me a dumbass. It would have gone on longer but one of the nurses tells me she has to take my vitals. I tell this to Lauren and I say goodbye. I jovially ask Benny why she’s so mad. My vitals look good, so I fill out some paper work with Benny. Then I watch more Fresh Prince until they’re ready for me.

They lead me into a room, and I sit on a propped bed. I put my hand through a sheet which brings me back to my Hasidic Jew days. I chuckle. As they’re trying to look at the cut and get everything reading, the doorbell rings. The young man goes and gets the door. Lauren scrambles into the room and leaves pretty quickly after seeing all the blood and making people feel nervous with all her energy. The NP starts the stitching after confirming that no nerves or tendons were cut and after she numbed the area with some injections of novocaine with epinephrine. The whole time I’m making jokes. One of the drunk kids keeps walking in and out of the room, claiming, “Dude I told you not to use that buzzsaw!” After he leaves the second time, I ask someone to close the door because he’s getting on my nerves. When she gets to nine stitches, I ask for a tenth because “if I don’t get stitches in the double digits, my friends are going to make fun of me”. Benny is there the whole time. Quite a trooper. Then they wash off my hand with saline, bandage me up, and give me some information. Then they give me a tetanus shot. I thank them profusely, and Benny and I leave. Lauren sees us exit the building and yells to Ashley, who has already started walking home. They hitch a ride back with us. We get back around 4 and I toss on some more Fresh Prince, then e-mail my professor and tell her I’m not coming to class - I’ve earned the day off. I pass out by 4:30.

All I can say is, I’m glad I had good humor about it - I had a fuckin’ good time, despite the stitches that have to stay in for 2 weeks.

Anyone that reads this (i.e. Mike Jongi/Rob Ponte) is lucky that I am incredibly bored at work, so I am going to take the time to give a rundown of Friday night. There were a lot of perverted voices used that evening.

My good friend Heather turns 21 tomorrow (4/2). She is pumped. Last week, her roommate Kara invited me to a surprise party in Heather’s honor on Friday. Naturally, I was all about it. I told Ross and Diaz about it, and they decided they would come out for the festivities. The surprise would happen at about 9, so we had to be there before then.

So on Friday, I am sitting in class, and I decide I want to show up John, who had just gotten a haircut the previous day, and get one of my own. It is necessary too, because my hair is getting too ridiculous. After my second class, I go to the barber in the Campus Center and get my ears lowered. My hair looks great. I have a big lunch at the DC and I go back home. I waste a lot of time, and I’m loving it. At around 5:30 I shower and get into the clothes I will be wearing to the party. Ross calls me from the road around 6, saying they’ll be there in a couple hours. I take the time to clean up a bit and make a peanut butter sandwich. Around 8 I start watching Minority Report, but I only get 2 or 3 minutes in before Ross calls me and tells me they’ve arrived. I let them in, and before we go anywhere I tell them I have to show them something. I turn on the TV and play the intro to the GI Joe movie that I had queued up right before I went down to get them. We laugh as a plane crashes into a boat and both explode. Finally, we go to the liquor store with Ange and Ash to get booze. Right before we leave, I ask the dudes if it’s cold outside - I’m wearing jeans and a short-sleeved polo. Ross replies in a pervert voice, “Yeah, you can wear it.” I crack up.

We drive like maniacs to the liquor store. I am looking for something really cheap - I have Busch Light in mind. When I get to the back, I spot Golden Anniversary in cans. I am flabbergasted. I have only seen it in 40s prior to this moment. The price tag on the shelf reads $5.50. My jaw drops a little further. Without thinking twice I snag a case of the brew. Diaz does the same. We are excited. We get in line to pay, and I have a conversation with one of the women that works there about the whiskey she advised me to buy the week before. I make a mental note to prepare my flask.

It is now 8:55. We drop off the girls, and Ross and I scramble into my building to get the stuff we need. I sign him in and see Benny signing in two young ladies. He is in makeup and is getting ready for the Drag Show in which he is performing. Ross and I run upstairs. In our haste I am unable to change my pants, put in my contacts, or prepare my flask. We run out and hit the road, belting out “Love And Marriage” from Married With Children as we storm by the desk clerk in my building. We get to Heather’s and there are people setting up, but no birthday girl. Diaz and I crack Golden Anniversaries and find it to be quite good. More people show up as the minutes pass. I call John to tell him to come and to bring me back to the apartment, but I am interrupted by the lights in the apartment turning off - I abruptly hang up on John, and we all surprise Heather. She loves it. She’s always loved it. After this, Ross, Jon (one of Kara’s friends from Leicester), Em (Kara’s sister), and I start playing asshole. Em is really drunk already. Jon spills a beer on the floor. Ross and I are surprisingly well-mannered. I become the asshole one too many times and leave the game unannounced. At some point someone puts a phone call in to Richards, who walks to the party from his nearby apartment. He comes in, and within the first 5 minutes of his arrival, shit gets hilarious. He rips down streamers, spills beer, and generally makes a mess, all by accident (read exactly what he does here).

At some point, Diaz encourages me to take my glasses off. I do it. I can’t see much. Ross and I play some Beirut. I give it my all like the champion that I am, but I only make a couple shots due to the fact that I can’t see shit. Diaz teaches me a uniquely Cuban phrase that I try to perfect throughout the night. Ross and I perfect our new handshake. We slap right hands and then plant our legs far apart with our knees bent and pretend we’re each jacking off really quickly, while at the same time going “OOOOOO!” in a regular pitch. It’s awesome. More hilarity ensues, though I can’t really remember any of it (Diaz or Ross: if you remember anything notable, let me know).

Rent-a-cops show up. They ask for Kara’s roommate, but she is hiding. They tell us to turn the music down, but everyone continues being loud. The rentals leave. Later, the Franklin boys all decide to leave when they come back (right before we leave, I find a faux pearl bracelet on the tank of the toilet and decide to wear it home). We walk to Richards’, since he lives right nearby. On the way we encounter several glass bottles. We take turns tossing them into the street. We all laugh when they shatter. We start a chant- I’m not entirely sure how it comes about. It goes something like this:

I got a bottle of shit
I got a bottle of shit

That’s about it. We then threw in rhymes:

I got a pearl bracelet
I got a bottle of shit
He’s chomping at the bit
I got a bottle of shit (Luke)
I got gravy on my dick
I got a bottle of shit (Ross)
I’m a big old spic
I got a bottle of shit (Diaz)

John gets incredibly angry when I continue to chant this in front of him.

At Richards’, I tear open a bag of Chex Mix, and as people eat it, it gradually ends up getting spilled all over the floor. Richard’s roommate hangs out with us - he’s a cool guy. A huge blunt is smoked in the kitchen while I go outside to get some air. I get in a fake fight with some girl, and she insists on my grabbing her crotch to prove she doesn’t have a dick (I neither say nor imply she does at any point). Some of the fellows join me outside. After a few minutes of the evening chill, we all go back in, and Richards’ other roommate, whom we call Justin Slotnick (because he looks just like a guy from Franklin by the same name), comes busting in the front door and starts being a tool. This isn’t a new event - the first time we met him we was immediately labeled a tool by me, Diaz, Ross, and Scof. He really is a tool - he’s bordering on preppy but also bordering on bro, and all of his speech sounds like some sort of catch-phrase. He puts a damper on our time there, and we leave soon after and go home.

All night I have been fairly drunk, but not out of control, and I am loving it. I am relieved that I didn’t get my flask, because the whiskey contained within would have put me in a bad way.

The night isn’t over yet. At around 2 or 2:3o, I call up Ash’s sister Lindsey and tell her to come over. She agrees, and I meet her halfway between our places at Worcester DC. On the way to meet her I call Tha HIZ and leave him a ridiculous voicemail that he later plays back to me via my voicemail (I laugh when I hear it). Lindsey and I walk across hard top and stumble across soft ground on the way back. When we get to my place, I have control of the remote. I start things off with the intro to the GI Joe movie: the plane crashing into the boat is just as hilarious as it was earlier. When I switch to cable, I look for something good to watch, so I start at channel 2, which is HBO. The first 30 channels or so are awesome - Ross, Diaz, Lindsey, Benny, and I laugh hysterically at everything that is on. Combined with my excellent sense of timing at the moment, it is hilarious. We settle on a Chappelle standup show on Comedy Central with the longest ads I’ve ever experienced. Benny makes pasta with vodka sauce, and it is phenomenal. Finally around 4, I walk Lindsey home. On the way back I am laughing my ass off at Richards’ entrance and destruction at Heather’s party. The more I replay the event in my head, the harder I laugh. I probably looked like a banshee. Ross and Diaz are lying down when I get back, lights off. I drape a blanket over Ross, tuck him in, turn off the TV, and go to bed.

The next day has some moments as well. As usual, I’m up way too early. I relinquish my bed to Diaz. Ross wakes up shortly after I do, so he and I are talking. Heather calls me and says she and Kara want to go out to eat. We settle on 12.

At noon the three of us, freshly-showered, go pick up the girls. On the way I swear I see Ashley and Lauren walking uptown, so I call Ashley and inquire. She tells me that it is she and Lindsey, and I remember that Lindsey and she were supposed to go to lunch with their dad’s old girlfriend and her daughter (long story). Anyway, we get Kara and Heather. We go to Amherst Brewing Company and wait outside, calling John. No answer. It is a beautiful day, so we are just sitting. This literal jalopy pulls up directly in front of me and is stopped at the red light. My eyes light up and I thrust my arm out, pointing at the ridiculous car. I laugh really hard immediately - there is no buildup. The driver, an old man, looks at me from behind his huge sunglasses. Kara grabs my arm and pulls it down. I decide then that we should probably go inside. We do. As we’re waiting for our shitty hostess to seat us, I notice that Ashley and Lindsey are already in the restaurant, eating lunch with their dad’s old girlfriend and her daughter (long story). I wave excitedly. I think. Well, when we sit down, I definitely wave excitedly. Even though I am not excited that we get seated in the back. At this point, everyone is suffering from lack of sleep, so everything is very funny. I order a reuben and contemplate ordering John a pitcher of beer for when he arrives. Finally, he does arrive, and I tell him my plan, and he gets excited. He gets disappointed when I tell him I am just joking. He orders a beer for his lunch. Lindsey, Ashley, and gang all leave when we get our food.

When we finish eating, we hang out in the center of Amherst for awhile, basking in the sun. Lindsey, Ashley, and the daughter (long story) emerge from Starbucks. I am getting a little confused from running into them everywhere. We continue to hang out for awhile, then we get in the car to drop the girls off. As we are rolling through town, we end up stopped next to three fairly young girls (high school, perhaps) who are bending over and stretching to get ready for a run or something. Ross, sitting shotgun, leans out the window and says in his best pervert voice, “Oh yeaaah.” The young girls get embarrassed and all of us in the car try to figure out what just happened. I don’t think Ross meant for them to hear that. We all start cracking up with the windows down. Finally, the girls are booted, and we all go our separate ways. I take a nap for a few hours.

I wake up around seven, feeling like I just want to hang out. The girls invite me over, and I go. I find Lauren and Ashley playing quarters at their table with shot glasses. Intrigued, I join in. They offer me a Raspberry UFO, and I accept. It is worlds better than the ShitBeer that has been contaminating my fridge for weeks. I start feeling good pretty quickly, so I run back to my place and get a bottle of white wine that has been chilling all day. I bring it over and yet again run back to get the rest of my ShitBeer as well. When I return to the girls’, my wine is uncorked. I shrug away the confusion and pour two glasses: one for me, one for Lauren. I watch her do her makeup like a pervert, and I ask her to curl my eyelashes. She does.

Ashley announces that two boys, Andrew and Coby, are coming over. The girls plan on pregaming for awhile and then going to the bar. I am poor, so I can not go with them. The boys are not 21, so they will not be going either. Ashley calls up Lindsey, who plans to come over. I run down the hall to get my flask, which I half-fill with Tullamore Dew. When I get back, the guys are there. Andrew is a total ball-buster - I like him immediately. He and I trade off busting everyone’s shit. We sit around playing speed quarters for awhile. Ashley tells me to call up Lindsey to find out when she’s going to arrive. Lindsey says she’s on her way. I tell her to call me when she arrives.

She gets there and I sign her in. We go back upstairs and play more speed quarters. I’m pretty sure that was the game for the night. I drink another Raspberry UFO and swig whiskey after I finish my wine. Everyone is getting loaded. Lauren and I invent a handshake that we pull off whenever we end up screwing someone over in the game. I do surprisingly well. Maybe I am just mediocre, and everyone else sucks, but I like to think I am doing well. They finally decide to go out around 10:30/11. The boys leave too. Lindsey and I are there alone. So we do what any heterosexual youths do when left alone: we make origami cranes and play the stock market. Okay, that doesn’t happen. But we do watch 200 Cigarettes and eat some delicious mango salsa. 200 Cigarettes is as good as advertised, though I need to watch it again to catch the better lines. Ashley accidentally left her phone behind A guy named Lee Weinberg keeps calling her. At first I break his balls, but then he calls back and I explain to him the situation.

Around 1, the drunks come back. Everyone, including the boys. Lauren jumps on me (the next day she doesn’t remember doing so).   She is completely hammered.  Apparently on the walk home she sprinted way ahead of everyone and then just lied in the grass with her arm straight up in the air, ala Beanie in Patch Adams.  Okay, that’s a reference I only expect really uncool people to get - but who else reads this?

When I leave, I walk Lindsey downstairs. That is pretty much the night. Oh, and Tha HIZ calls me and we rap “Lesson We Learned” back and forth for a few minutes. While I am at the party. Good times.

Then the next day I get a breakfast sandwich at Dunkin’ Donuts with the girls. DELICIOUS. Their homefries? Not so delicious. Ange and I have a hot gossip session. Okay, they’re totally turning me into a woman. But am I fighting it? Absolutely not.