It’s Always Cloudy In Chicago
Like Laguna Beach on crack…Archive for October, 2007
Lily Dies From Exhaustion
I think I’ve slept about nine hours in the past three days. That, combined with drinking copious amounts of alcohol, is a recipe for physical exhaustion. I don’t think there are enough drugs in the world to fix this.
None as good as just plain sleeping, at least.
Friday: Coked Out Lindsay Lohan. So far, my favorite. I am a huge fan of using flour as a tool to pretend to look like I just snorted a bunch of blow. Plus, Audrey was just following me around, snapping pictures of me when i was mid-blink, etc. Pretty hilarious, however not the most attractive of looks 90% of the time.
Saturday: 20’s Flapper. Which would’ve been awesome except for the fact that when we got to the party, all the MGs kept saying I looked like Christina Aguilera. And then, as Audrey and I were leaving the party, I realized that I bore a striking resemblance to Olivia Newton-John in Grease. Stupid fucking platinum wig. Nevertheless, the two of us hit the bars, flirted, danced (I met this adorable guy dressed up as a nerd who I made fun of all night for trying to kiss me about fourteen times, and the fact he was in law school. Law school is for dorks.), and went home… at three am.
Flash to Sunday, where I have to wake up at 5:30 (still drunk, mind you) and work. I hate work. I hate not sleeping. I go home, and three cheers for best friends being in town (she decided to only stay one night, since we’re pretty sure her car’s going to get towed.). We went out to Lincoln Park last night and got obliterated. Like, seriously obliterated…. to the point that Audrey and my BF were in an alley, taking a piss, while I sat back and giggled. If by sat back you mean shook your head in disgust and by giggled you mean complained about how you had to pee but you were too hoity-toity to pee in an alley.
And now, I am up once more, four hours of sleep last night, and headed to work before going to see my darling shrink. Should be home around six or so, at which point I may or may not pass the fuck out on my couch watching CSI: Miami. That David Caruso just makes me so happy.
Oh, the life I lead.
The Dynamic Duo Trick-or-Treat For Unicef… For Drinking Money
Lily and I are tres cool so we celebrate three days of good ol’ Halloween. This is the first night.
Lily dressed as Coked Out Lohan. She raided my closet because I have La Lohan-esque clothing apparently. She had an over-sized wife beater, my bad girl jacket and my knit cap. The best of her costume the bag of “cocaine” and the fact that it was all over her nose. I was Lara Croft and my weapons totally broke within the first hour of being out–mainly because i was just “reckless” with them.
So we head out and meet up with the object of my affections (as of late anyway), Goggles, and his buddy to go to a party in Wicker Park (which happened to be down the street from the ex-boyfriend aka he who shall not be named). Holy everyone was so scene. There was good music. It smelled like pot. The people were kind of weird… but then again we were in Wicker Park. I wouldn’t expect anything short of strange in that odd odd neighborhood. I don’t think that I have been to a house party since my sophomore year of college.
Some man gave us mini-cups for beer (thankfully, we didn’t pay for them). So the keg guy was sick of seeing my face after the fourth or fifth shot of beer. I had like eight in addition to the two rum and Monster (shameless plug) concoctions I had before we left my apartment–so I was feeling pretty good. But still it was kind of lame. There were little kids there. Goggle’s friend saw his little brothers friend. That was a sign that we needed to peace out of there.
We took a cab back to Goggles’ apartment. Lily left me (sad face) because she had to wake up early for work. (Hey, some of us have to be responsible! Plus, I got so much flour up my nose, I think I was baking a cake in my tummy. It was bad news to say the least.) The night was still young. I think it was about midnight-ish.… or one. Thanks. I’m not that big of a loser. So the boys and I went bar hopping around Lincoln Park. First stop, the bar right next to Goggles’ place. It was a cute little place. It was quiet so we just had a round of drinks. Pounded my Strong Island and off to the next bar where there were actually people.
The boys and I walk to some little bar with tons of people. I, at this point, am pretty tanked. We kind of dispersed because I, with my alcohol problem, needed a drink asap. I go to the bar and this well-dressed man starts to speak to me. We exchange greetings and salutations. I order my drink and ask him what he was supposed to be for Halloween because he really wasn’t wearing anything out of the ordinary. So this seemingly nice man pulls out leather gloves, smiles and says, “A serial rapist.” Then he proceeded to try to make out with me several times. I just kept turning him down. Goggles finally took notice and pulled me away from the situation. I know. My hero.
Goggles tells me that he is pretending to be my boyfriend to keep the random dudes away from me. And I’m cool with that because a) I’m all about canoodling with him and b) I want to be his girlfriend for real real– not for play play. I walk off to the bathroom and run into another dude who proceeds to hit on me. Again, Goggles sees this and starts hugging me and being all boyfriend-ly. He tells me that I should stop talking to random dudes and kind of just looks like he doesn’t understand why guys just keep blatantly hitting on me.
Shortly after that, I see a dude dressed up as Batman and decided that it was a good idea to tell him that his costume was super sweet because I love Batman. He and I chatted for a little bit, but I walked back to Goggles when he tried to make out with me. Goggles just shook his head and gave me a hug.
I didn’t understand why Goggles wasn’t putting the moves on me. I mean, THREE DUDES blatantly tried to make out with me right in front of him and I denied them access. That’s not like me at all. THREE DUDES! NO ACCESS! And then I went to him right after knowing that he just saw what happened. If anything that’s showing him like (not love. I’m really careful about how and when I use that word). I must really like him because besides creepy serial rapist dude, they were all pretty hot– sober or not. I just wish he would make a move. I mean, we did walk back to his place arm-in-arm and he did take care of me. But I’m not sure if he was doing that to be a good friend or just because… He’s a little shy and I guess things are progressing slowly if anything. But HEY, he’s not afraid to touch me anymore. That’s at least a step.
Ugh. So I wake up today say around noon. I toss and turn a little bit before realizing that I am not in my bed. Then I realize that I am not on the couch. Then I realize that I am not in my apartment. Holy crap! I’m in Goggles’ bed! I start freaking out. What do I do? What did I do? Who’s hand is this? Oh, it’s mine. Where is Goggles? Usually, when I wake up in a dude’s bed, the dude is usually there. I hear voices downstairs. That is where Goggles is. He spent the night on the couch with his homeboy (well on two different couches not the same one… not that there is anything wrong with that).
I come downstairs all disheveled–my weave is all crazy and my make up is all gross. Goggles smiled at me and asked how I felt. I ask him for some aspirin and a glass of water. He tells me the story of how I got upstairs…er… rather, how he dragged me up the stairs and how I fell like four times. I have no recollection of this at all, but I do have cuts on my hands and what not. So I believe it may have happened.I tell him that I have to go home since it is 1 o’clock in the afternoon. I’m still drunk. We have an awkward goodbye. We just kind of stood there not sure if we were going to hug or whatever. He took so long and I just kind of walked away.
As I’m walking to the el, I realize that I am still in costume. When you get strange looks from people you realize something is wrong with you. Apparently, people frown upon you when you’re walking around town, trying to get home from the bar… still drunk… and dressed up as a video game vixen. Not to mention… I had a bow tie. Where did I get this bow tie? I have no clue. It was just on me. I guess it looked like I was doing something called the walk of shame. But I didn’t do anything really shameful last night and I wanted to explain to all the people looking at me that nothing happened. Then I realized that because I smell like hard liquor and boys, that would do more harm for my situation than good.
So here I am now, writing this… getting my mind focused and get into character for tonight’s festivities. I’m sure tonight will be less I like Goggles… Why doesn’t he like me? Blah blah blah… and more slutty, for lack of a better term. Tonight, I’m on a mission as a Spartan from 300. If anything, I’ll be doing what I do for the sake of having a better story to tell. Chicago, you better check yo’ self before you wreck yo’ self. This is SPARTA! Tonight we fight in the shade.
To add my part to it, I can’t help but be a loser. I have bills to pay, and a girl’s gotta work. That being said, I’m a pretty good trooper (some might even say a super trooper) when it comes to going out and getting plastered. I wandered around (in the rain, mind you), dressed like a coked out paparazzi whore, drinking and having a grand ol’, albeit soaked, time. I came home, stumbled into bed, woke up at five thirty, went to work, came home… and we’re now back to the present. I’m going out as a flapper tonight. I’m moderately classy… every once in a while. Call me a tease, call me a tramp… but I sure look good doing it.
I have less than a week till I can get laid, and my best friend is coming out to see me tomorrow on a whim. It’s going to be a good week!
The Dynamic Duo Are Really, Really Ridiculously Good-Looking
It’s really hard to determine how it is that Audrey and I got so egotistical. And, no… we’re not that self-obsessed [speak for yourself, Lillian]. Not in the slightest. We just realize that we are attractive people. But, for me at least, it wasn’t always that way. I was a really cute little kid. Seriously adorable: soft, curly blonde hair, blue eyes, the cutest little smile you’ve ever seen… I would melt your fucking heart. I had this amazing thing where I would tilt my head to the side in every picture. My god, even thinking about it makes my heart melt, and it’s pretty damn icy. Just ask my boyfriend.
I don’t know exactly when it was, but sometime within the period of my ninth and tenth year, I just felt apart. My cuteness was still there, but it was overshadowed with braces, frizzy curls, and super skinniness. It probably didn’t help that I swore a lot, hated people, and just read a lot of books. (Yes, at nine. Twelve years later, the swearing, hating, and reading remain.) I had a couple of the middle school “boyfriends”, partially because there was something cute about me, and I wasn’t an idiot, but most of them got over me when they realized that I wasn’t going to make up for my dorkiness by having sex with them.
Then, high school rolled around. Still skinny, still had a large mass of curls on the top of my head (lost the braces… at least for the first three and a half years). Hung out with theatre kids and stoners, which means I spent my time with catty girls/gay guys and slackers respectively. ‘Nuff said. Still awkward, only now I smoked a lot of pot. Met a couple of pretty awesome guys, including my first love, and I think that had a lot to do with my physical “blossoming”.
Oh my god, I just said blossoming.
I wish I could say that I had this miraculous realization that I’m attractive now. I got my braces off (for the second time) right before my 21st birthday, stayed thin, but got one hell of a chest, and stopped smoking pot. Okay, I didn’t stop, but I did cut down significantly. I think the big thing is really just that I’m sort of happy. Maybe I am not always happy, but I think that had a huge part in it. That, and the sex addiction. I think copious amounts of sex does wonders for one’s physical appearance. And love. That’s done a lot too.
There’s a funny catch to my attractiveness that Audrey doesn’t have: I still see myself as the chronically ugly duckling. It’s sort of funny for me to think that people look at me now. Sometimes, I think they’re looking at me because I have food on my face (which, in some instances, is probably the case) until I realize they’re starting to cat call. No one cat calls a girl with chili on her face! Oh shit. Well, that’s just life, I guess.
In the long run, I both love and hate my looks. It gets things done for me, and allows me to slack off when I feel like it, but nobody ever thinks I can amount to anything. I’m seen as a beautiful idiot. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that. But, I have learned that even though people don’t take me seriously, they do fear me. And I really like that. Almost as much as I loved the looks on the faces of the assholes I went to high school with when they saw me. I gained weight in the best possible places; they just gained weight. Sucks to be them. For me, it was fucking priceless.
When did I realize that I was really really really ridiculously good-looking? Gosh. I don’t think it was until freshmen year of high school. You see, like Lily, I too had an awkward stage, but mine lasted the majority of my life. Like most babies, I was cute. I had a head full of curly black hair and I was cute chubby. However, chubby can only be cute for so long.
I was fat all through grade school. In the fourth grade, I found out that I was pretty much blind (and as the years went by I became gradually blinder); so I had to get really thick awkward nerdy glasses. Then when I was 11 I had to get braces (but those weren’t bad since it was cool to have braces). As a kid, I looked like a cross between Lilo (from Lilo and Stitch) and Ugly Betty. And to top it all off, I was awkwardly tall for my age. I was just a goofy looking kid. I wasn’t out casted by my peers, but it was understood that I wasn’t pretty. I was the girl with the personality and brains. Real cool, right? No, not so much. Those girls suck. But I did have boyfriends (granted, they weren’t the boys I had crushes on, but I had to take what I could get) and stuff because I had a “good personality”. I was so weird looking that to this day, there are virtually no pictures of me from ages 3 to 13 at my parent’s house. I hid all the photo albums. I was just a mess.
Then I got into (and really good at) sports (volleyball, basketball, karate, etcetera) and ate less (considerably less). I got really into working out for some reason. Also, I had my growth spurt and hit puberty. I started to thin out a little bit and lose my baby fat. I started reading girly magazines and taught myself how to put on my make up correctly and how to dress as fabulous as I do. I learned that a straightener can do wonderful things to your hair (with caution). I traded in my glasses for some contacts. I got the braces off the weekend before I started high school. I kept my winning personality, wit and charm (obviously). And apparently, I became one hot tamale.
Like I said, I did not realize that I was a regulation hottie until high school. I just thought of myself as the same awkward kid I was growing up. I was the DUFF (designated ugly fat friend) all my life. I was a super late bloomer. I didn’t know how to talk to people in general, let alone boys. So it was a little weird getting attention from the opposite sex, at first. But I got used to it real quick–especially, when the attention was coming from the older boys. You see, older boys had cars. I wasn’t a fan of taking the bus home. Do the math. My first boyfriend was 5 years older than me and to honest, I started dating him because I just needed a ride home. It wasn’t until much later that I decided that I kind of dug him. I actually think that this realization is where my love of older guys stemmed from (I only date older guys and it’s rare that I have a thing for a youngster).
Needless to say, I was running with an older crowd and I thought I was the bomb diggity. They did nothing but feed my ego. They would always tell me how cute and pretty I was and how so and so wanted to “hollar” at me (because that’s what the kids used to say). This is when I learned how to juggle boys. As a young teen, I already knew that one boy is never enough. And if I was dating someone, I always had someone waiting in the wing when we broke up. That’s just how cool I was.
When I went back to my grade school, no one recognized me. You better believe that the boys that I had crushes on were kicking themselves in the ass. I dated their new high school buddies just so I could prance around and show them what they missed out on (I love doing things out of spite). Half of my extended family didn’t even recognize me. My poor brother was all of a sudden the kid with the hot sister. I loved every second of it.
And I think that the bigger my ego became, the bitchier I became. I was so mean to ugly people. They were just so scary looking and I didn’t understand why they existed. I was a smart kid, but I stopped trying in school and just wing classes (and still ace them). I became more interested in boys and when I was going to see my boyfriend so I could sneak him into my room in the middle of the night to fool around. That’s all I cared about. For some reason, if I didn’t get laid it was the end of the world. I mean, technically, it still is, but back then I thought that I would die if I wasn’t getting it like every waking moment. Also, I thought I was the balls because I was the first one in my group of friends to lose the v-card. I scored some points there because all of a sudden I became this wise all-knowing person. As Lily stated earlier, for some reason, sex does wonders for people and attractive people need more sex than average looking people because they can.
Then there was the point where I just got ridiculously full of myself and just became a total bitch–think Cady Heron when she became the Queen Bee in Mean Girls. And I know that you think I am exaggerating, but I’m not. I was so conceited that I literally carried pictures of myself in my wallet. After a while, I just kind of got sick of seeing my face everywhere I looked, so I toned it down a notch. I’m still relatively bitchy and still take a lot of pictures of myself, but I don’t carry them around in my wallet. I have a my space for that. DUH!
Nowadays, I know that I’m not ugly. I actually think that I am pretty ridiculously good-looking. I’m definitely one of the most vain people that I know. I know that I get away with a lot of the things that I do because of the way I look. I know I get a lot of the things I get because I’m flippin’ adorable. I just don’t rub it in people’s faces as much as I did when I first realized it, I guess. Sure, I can leave my place without make up on and still turn a few heads. I have really good skin and could pull off the no make up thing. But if that’s what I have to do to help people feel good about themselves, so be it. I’m all for helping people build up their confi… and… uh…
…what was I talking about? I totally lost my train of thought. I totally just caught my reflection in the mirror.
But yeah, yay for being cute!
Awww. We are ridiculous.
Audrey Goes Gay
Lily and I have had this talk many a time: she believes that no one in this God forsaken world is a hundred percent anything– no one is a hundred percent straight or gay more specifically. However, she does agree with me when I say that I am the straightest person that we know. I am so grossed out by woman-ness. Quite frankly, vages scare me. C’mon… itty bitty humanoids come out of there and so does urine. You don’t think that is weird?
Anyways, the other night I went out to a gay bar with my main gay and soulmate, P.J., his boyfriend, and our friend, Maria. And you better believe that we were pretty sauced up at this point (at least I was). I killed off a bottle of Southern Comfort (ew! i know) and I was two beers in and high. We walk in there are hot guys everywhere. Of course, I have an internal conflict with this. Since Lily and I are constantly on the prowl (at least, I am anyway), I am totally in hunt mode. It’s just natural to me. But at the same time, none of these hot dudes are into me because they’re more into dudes. Silly me, I know. Unfortunately, the only straight dude that was there was a creepy fat dude who wanted me to dance for him.
But whatever. I wasn’t expecting to get laid at a gay bar. After a few more drinks, the bar became more and more crowded (and increasingly fabulous). They played Justin and you know, how I love my Justin, and then they played a little Britney– so I was totally busting a move. But then it happened. Lesbian after lesbian was grabbing my ass. I was manhandled by a bunch of lesbians. I felt a little violated–like my ass was no longer safe at a gay bar (and of all the places I thought my ass would be safe, I would of put money on the gay bar being the safest, but no, not so much). And there I stood in a room full of people, feeling the most alone I’ve ever felt in my life–scarred and afraid.
Now, I’m all about gay rights. My best friends are gay. But I’m awkwarded out by anyone touching me (when uninvited to touch that is). So, yeah, nothing reaffirms your heterosexuality like being manhandled by lesbians. And what was weird about being violated by LESBIANS? I think it is that they are worse than any dude that grabbed my ass–homegirls were going for chunks of ass. At least guys give you that creepy yeah, I just did that smile and you’re just skeeved out because they’re perverts. But Lesbians give you that YEAH! WHAT, BITCH? face and quite, frankly, it was scary. You better believe I my tush was against the wall the rest of the night, well, at least when I wasn’t stumbling around drigh (drunk and high).
The next day my ass was sore (that should tell you something about how hard it was getting grabbed).
I just want to take this time to let you all know that I love dudes. No matter how retarded and useless they are, they’re still pretty sweet. I am appalled by boobies and vag. They scare me. If it wasn’t for showers, I wouldn’t see myself naked ever. Dudes. Dudes. Dudes. I love dudes. Dudes in the morning. Dudes in the evening. Dudes at supper time. When I see a dude today, I’ll salute them just for being a dude.
COOCH! This is a video with Chris Crocker. You may know him as the “Leave Britney Alone” dude. He’s really funny. If you want to understand my feelings about woman parts, this is the video to watch because I could not have said any of this better. I completely agree with him on his views on the cooch. It’s a scary thing and I don’t understand the appeal of it (Boys, feel free to explain).
In other news, if you have read 30 Days of Night, like I have, do not go see the movie. I promise you nothing, but disappointment. You won’t appreciate it for what it is.
The Dynamic Duo Get Lazy
We’ve probably been smoking too much. But we’ll be back soon, I promise. It’s bound to be an interesting night… off to “John Cusack’s” Birthday Party, then wandering around Lincoln Park. And with the way we are, hilarity will definitely ensue.
And Audrey still has a pretty fucking sweet story to tell you about getting molested by lesbians. Lots of lesbians. While I stayed home like the cute little housewife I am, making lamb, artichokes and goat cheese brown rice for my roommate. Which reminds me, I really need to buy a cute lacy apron for when the boyfriend comes. Nothing says love like a mostly naked girlfriend cooking steak for you while you’re watching college football. Nothing even comes close.
Smile.
Take My Word for It… Coldblooded
After reading a few of these start up posts by our heroes, you may be sitting there, thinking to yourself how these two 12 year old laotian dudes should shut the eff up and get a life but SOVA is here to let you know that these bad bitches are for real. I normally wouldn’t come out in this quasi public forum ( I mean, after church and all) to extol the virtues of two amoral twinkles in my eye however I can attest first hand that Audrey and Lily are two major league Fillies, and certainly attractive future broodmares.
Sharp tongued and quick on their toe, these two Chicago Ninjas can mince your heart and balls with the flick of the wrist. Mind you, I walk with a slight limp these days…. and I’m one of the few that survived.
Tread carefully my friends…
The Dynamic Duo Begin A Never Ending Quest For Illicit Drugs (Part Deux)
Hooray!!! Charlie called back with awesome awesome news. His Green Guy called him back and he had some pot for us… all Lily and I had to do was pick it up. Everything was finally turning up Milhouse.
Lily and I pack up and we continue on our never ending quest for illicit drugs. We drudge to through the mean streets of Chicago and end up at Green Guy’s house. Now, I have been to Green Guy’s apartment once before and I was with my old friend, and I made him do the transaction because I was too nervous. I couldn’t even look anyone in the eye, so I don’t really know who I am looking for in the first place. So when we get there a friendly (and by friendly I mean shady) man greeted us at the door and grunted for us to come in when he saw us standing awkwardly in front of the building.
I act like everything is cool and follow him into the elevator. I look at Lily and ferverently text her “I’m not sure if this is the dude”. She looks at me and shakes her head as if to say you’re retarded. It may have been him. I just wasn’t sure. I normally don’t stare drug dealers in the face. I usually want to get in and out of there as quickly as possible (not that I go excavating for drugs all the time). Lily told me to text Green Guy and tell him that we were meeting him down in the lobby… just in case that man who we were going to creepily follow doesn’t end up to be the kid that we are looking for.
Sure enough we get downstairs and some dude is looking at us (two out of place) girls and pointing. That’s gotta be him, I thought. Again, trying to be cool, I tried to explain the situation and Lily summed it up by calling me an idiot (I hate when she yells at me in public). He explained that it was cool and told Lily to shake his hand.
Lily was being just as awkward trying to explain to the drug dealer that there were people around and they will see us. Green Guy was trying to explain that it was cool. After a little bit of confusion, the transaction was made and victory was ours! We went on our merry way to my apartment where we could enjoy our ever so precious mary-jane.
And oh how we enjoyed it. Lily pulled a MacGyver and made a little Ice Mountain (we’re corporately sponsored) into a little bong of bliss. We huffed and we puffed and we breathed the smoke in. Green Guy had some good stuff. It got Lily silly. She was making up stupid words (i.e. schnoogle) and I was tweaking out because I couldn’t get my television to work. Lily was making no sense at all and I thought that I was developing a stutter. All in all, it was a great little time. In the midst of it all, Cusack called telling me he was on his way. Blast him! I didn’t even want to go… but I went. And I went high as a kite…because I am a trooper.
I decided to comb my hair because I have an image to uphold (and because I am just that vain). My phone rings again. It’s Cusack and he’s downstairs. Lily walks down with me and tells me have fun on my date (laughing, of course, because I was a little paranoid about it since I was high). We part ways and I get in his car.
I’m not going to lie it was a little bit awkward. I have no idea what he and I were talking about on the way to the movie theater. I have no idea how I managed to give him the right directions to get there. And I have no idea how he couldn’t tell that I was high.
The movie was good. It was actually really funny (that and I was a little bit high. But I couldn’t help but feel that Cusack was trying to put the moves on me the whole time. I could feel him hesitating before he tried. But I put the kabash on that real fast by sitting about 954 feet away from him and avoiding all eye contact. Now, it’s not like he’s an awful guy. We have a lot in common. He’s really nice, but there is just no physical attraction to him. That and I don’t do nice guys… literally and figuratively. I feel bad, but I said that I would make a cameo at his birthday party this weekend (ugh… this should be pretty awkward since Lily and are going to go for a bit and bail). When he dropped me off it was awkward too.
I’m already really bad at the end part of a date. To avoid awkward small talk, I usually just end up making out with the guy, but I can’t do that with Cusack. He’s too nice. It’s just not there. And I know that he wants it to be there because I think that he was about to make the move move, but I bolted and said thanks for the movie.
In retrospect, I probably could have done that a lot better, but I was still a little high. Hell… I’m still a little high now. Oh, well.
Lesson of the day: Pot makes everything a little bit better. It makes you want to get up in the morning so you can just wake… and bake. Yay pot! Give me a P. Give me O. Give me a T. What’s that spell? POT! What do we love? POT! Hooray for pot. Hey oh!!
Disclaimer: In no way is the blog, “It’s Always Cloudy in Chicago”, or it’s writers/creators in any way, shape, or form condoning the use of or selling of illicit drugs (including but not limited to marijuana).
Just to add my two cents… I was so not yelling. I just did a little quiet, life threatening stare. That’s it. I don’t usually do drug deals in front of witnesses, as I know what can happen, so that was an unsurpassed level of awkwardness for me. Also I, on my walk home, sobered up within two minutes. Some huge, scary guy kept asking me for sexual favors, and then a friend called me crying. I’m all for helping friends, but not big creepy dudes trying to molest me. It’s not my thing.
And I am MacGyver reincarnate. I should’ve used a spatula, safety pin, and ball of yarn to fix that stupid television.
EDIT: We also forgot to mention the ten minute search that Audrey and I had trying to find her fucking keys. Her room’s… colorful, so it was insane. And where, you ask, were the keys? Under a notebook. On the coffee table. In front of the couch we were sitting on.
We’re idiots.
EDIT (2): For the record, my key holder is black and the coffee table is black. It blended in like a the leaf-looking insect on a tree.
Also, Charlie called me last night to tell me that Green Guy wants to bone me. I tell Lily. Her response Take one for the team. Maybe not in those exact words, but essentially, that is what she told me. The things she wants me to do for drugs… at a better price.
The Dynamic Duo Begin A Neverending Quest For Illicit Drugs (Part One)
Pretty self explanatory. Doesn’t anyone sell pot in this god damn city? And, I realize the hypocrisy but seriously though, there are no reliable drug dealers.
Here we are, wanting to give people our not-so-hard-earned money, and no one is here to take it. Ugh. Audrey will even exchange sexual favors (it’s her way) for some green. It’s the American way, damn it (angry fist shaking inserted here).
We were sitting around, grabbing some snacks. It was casual Monday ’round these parts, as there were no classes for me and few for Audrey (Though, did she go to them all? Actually, for the first time, yes.). We were discussing why Audrey didn’t want to go on a date with Cusack (one of the many prospects)… and she was acting in accordance to this. No shower, sweatshirt, uncombed hair, and a U of Kentucky hat (and I’m the one who likes sports. Audrey watches enough to hold decent bar conversation… and to spite lovers of USC football).
“I should be going on this date drunk.”
“That’s a possib…”
“Nay! Stoned!”
“Brilliant! Call Charlie.”
And so we did. Charlie is our sweet, lovable, pot smoking main gay. But despite the copious amounts of pot he smokes, he couldn’t get a hold of anyone who had any. No one was holding? What kind of world is this?
We went back to my apartment, as it’s the closest to any possibilities we have. And that’s where we are now… lounging my fucking apartment, waiting for our unreliable stoner friends to get in contact with us. Audrey has to be out of here by 7:30…. yes, an hour and a half. If you have pot, let us know. We may be willing to part with something you’d like.
