Rachel’s Slice:
Well then! Our first pie girl weekend on Indian street, what a weekend indeed. Then, we’ve had plenty of fun besides—what with Mike’s 22nd birthday and all. I of course have been having my own fun due to a new(ish?) boy in my life. But we’ll get to that.
I’m finally off island and I have never been better. It was a pretty swanky job for a college summer job—but it’s still nice to be back on the homefront and not dealing with Islander douchebags. Or asshole bosses that spend the summer chatting you up and practically feeling you up, only to de-friend you from facebook the moment they cross the state line. Fuck dating Older Men.
We had a bumpy run, but this time for good, the Broman and I are no more. There’s just this chance I want to take, and I finally feel like it’s worth giving up a sure thing for. Broman celebrated a birthday—I was not invited out with him and his friends though I wasn’t uninvited either. Things were already really tense between us. I’ve been done with my job for a couple weeks now and he’s made no effort to spend time with me whatsoever. So when we were all out for Mike’s birthday Tuesday night, Broman was also in attendance. He didn’t say hey to me, didn’t talk to me, barely glanced my way. I was dressed to the nines so he should have been all over my pie-lovin’ self. What did he do instead? Oh he texted me all night telling me such things as “you going to ignore me?” “Not even a hey back there at the bar?” “You know I was joking about the tramp thing.” I ignored pretty much everything. I texted him once to inform him my “tramp mouth” was no longer speaking to him. I think after this last weekend, I finally realized that if he really gave a shit about me he could grow a pair and maybe come say hello. At the end of the night though, I started getting drunk texts from him, telling me things like how he was so happy that I finally figured how to play the game well. He of all people should know I don’t play hard to get. If I’m ignoring you—it’s because I’m fucking done.
I won’t say much about it, mostly because it’s just so new that I don’t want to jinx myself. But I really do think I might have stumbled onto something that is definitely more than nothing. It’s both a vindication as well as a huge compliment. But I just keep waiting to wake up from how surreal of an occurrence it is. My high school Crush-to-end-all-crushes asked me out on a legitimate date. I really wish more than anything that I could go back in time and tell my 15 year old self that yes, he’s worth it, but it’s going to take a few years. But truly, now even after 6 years I still find him just as attractive. Except this time I’m having one-on-one conversations with him, taking shots at parties and sitting closely pressed against him in a darkened movie theater. It’s going to go slow just because of extraneous circumstances, but I finally feel like maybe it’s truly worth it.
Well then! Our first pie girl weekend on Indian street, what a weekend indeed. Then, we’ve had plenty of fun besides—what with Mike’s 22nd birthday and all. I of course have been having my own fun due to a new(ish?) boy in my life. But we’ll get to that.
I’m finally off island and I have never been better. It was a pretty swanky job for a college summer job—but it’s still nice to be back on the homefront and not dealing with Islander douchebags. Or asshole bosses that spend the summer chatting you up and practically feeling you up, only to de-friend you from facebook the moment they cross the state line. Fuck dating Older Men.
We had a bumpy run, but this time for good, the Broman and I are no more. There’s just this chance I want to take, and I finally feel like it’s worth giving up a sure thing for. Broman celebrated a birthday—I was not invited out with him and his friends though I wasn’t uninvited either. Things were already really tense between us. I’ve been done with my job for a couple weeks now and he’s made no effort to spend time with me whatsoever. So when we were all out for Mike’s birthday Tuesday night, Broman was also in attendance. He didn’t say hey to me, didn’t talk to me, barely glanced my way. I was dressed to the nines so he should have been all over my pie-lovin’ self. What did he do instead? Oh he texted me all night telling me such things as “you going to ignore me?” “Not even a hey back there at the bar?” “You know I was joking about the tramp thing.” I ignored pretty much everything. I texted him once to inform him my “tramp mouth” was no longer speaking to him. I think after this last weekend, I finally realized that if he really gave a shit about me he could grow a pair and maybe come say hello. At the end of the night though, I started getting drunk texts from him, telling me things like how he was so happy that I finally figured how to play the game well. He of all people should know I don’t play hard to get. If I’m ignoring you—it’s because I’m fucking done.
I won’t say much about it, mostly because it’s just so new that I don’t want to jinx myself. But I really do think I might have stumbled onto something that is definitely more than nothing. It’s both a vindication as well as a huge compliment. But I just keep waiting to wake up from how surreal of an occurrence it is. My high school Crush-to-end-all-crushes asked me out on a legitimate date. I really wish more than anything that I could go back in time and tell my 15 year old self that yes, he’s worth it, but it’s going to take a few years. But truly, now even after 6 years I still find him just as attractive. Except this time I’m having one-on-one conversations with him, taking shots at parties and sitting closely pressed against him in a darkened movie theater. It’s going to go slow just because of extraneous circumstances, but I finally feel like maybe it’s truly worth it.
XOXO, Rachel
Charlee's Slice:
So as you may have noticed, this is the first joint pie blog in over a month! Life has been one crazy ride. I’ve barely had the time to talk on the phone, my best friend in South Dakota can attest to that. Unless, of course I’m drunk dialing my mom to say “Bitch! I know you ain’t asleep.”
My summer finally got kicked off a little less than a week ago. I was held up by earning myself a B in accelerated organic chemistry. Also delaying my summer fun, serving my civic duty by sitting on multiple jury panels for two weeks, to not get selected for a single jury. Came pretty (prêt-ty,prêt-ty) close to sitting on a murder trial for a Mr. Hummel accused of killing his wife, guilty of molesting his daughter, and embezzling money from his wife’s disability fund. I was a wonderful candidate until I said, “Why not pull off the hat trick; He’s a pervert and a thief, why not add murder?” Then I was told to go home for the day.
My summer started pretty much in my new apartment on Indian. I had to go up last weekend to finish moving out of my old place, which happened to be the case for Mike and Peter as well, they brought along their cleaning crew (Erika and Jessie B.) for some partying. Before I get ahead of myself, I should mention, Friday night I went to Adam’s graduation/ going away party. It was a really great time; I attempted to make sangria, which went over pretty well. Also, I was informed of the game ‘your team, my team.’ And pretty much, my team is kick ass: booking agents downtown, past and present directors of ASpop, the everyday music staff, and The Cave Singers. I am not sure how I fit in on this team, except that I am apparently ‘bad ass.’ Also, somewhat awkward, some of my team members think I should have sex with a certain other team member, there was a time…but that ship has decidedly sailed.
Saturday night, the real partying began. I had a lot to drink so I’m a little fuzzy around the edges on a good deal of the goings on. Tony and I called Tim’s potato chips at 1 in the morning to find out about tours, got no answer, the number is now saved in my phone. Erika called her mom, which led to me drunk texting my mom, which led to an annoyed call from her. Around that time I decided I had enough to drink, and when I decide I’ve had enough to drink I get self conscious about my drinking, for no reason really since I tend to be well behaved. So, I was too self conscious to have anymore fun so I had Rachel walk me home. No hangover the next morning.
My summer finally got kicked off a little less than a week ago. I was held up by earning myself a B in accelerated organic chemistry. Also delaying my summer fun, serving my civic duty by sitting on multiple jury panels for two weeks, to not get selected for a single jury. Came pretty (prêt-ty,prêt-ty) close to sitting on a murder trial for a Mr. Hummel accused of killing his wife, guilty of molesting his daughter, and embezzling money from his wife’s disability fund. I was a wonderful candidate until I said, “Why not pull off the hat trick; He’s a pervert and a thief, why not add murder?” Then I was told to go home for the day.
My summer started pretty much in my new apartment on Indian. I had to go up last weekend to finish moving out of my old place, which happened to be the case for Mike and Peter as well, they brought along their cleaning crew (Erika and Jessie B.) for some partying. Before I get ahead of myself, I should mention, Friday night I went to Adam’s graduation/ going away party. It was a really great time; I attempted to make sangria, which went over pretty well. Also, I was informed of the game ‘your team, my team.’ And pretty much, my team is kick ass: booking agents downtown, past and present directors of ASpop, the everyday music staff, and The Cave Singers. I am not sure how I fit in on this team, except that I am apparently ‘bad ass.’ Also, somewhat awkward, some of my team members think I should have sex with a certain other team member, there was a time…but that ship has decidedly sailed.
Saturday night, the real partying began. I had a lot to drink so I’m a little fuzzy around the edges on a good deal of the goings on. Tony and I called Tim’s potato chips at 1 in the morning to find out about tours, got no answer, the number is now saved in my phone. Erika called her mom, which led to me drunk texting my mom, which led to an annoyed call from her. Around that time I decided I had enough to drink, and when I decide I’ve had enough to drink I get self conscious about my drinking, for no reason really since I tend to be well behaved. So, I was too self conscious to have anymore fun so I had Rachel walk me home. No hangover the next morning.
Sunday Rachel and I went in search of wall art. I found a lovely landscape which I later added in a robot blowing up a squid. We also went to the mall where I spent money that didn’t need spending. Another night, another party. I lost two games of beer pong. Peter and Jessie played like 6 games each, which lead to a streaking challenge. They both lost and had to run around Laurel Park naked. I haven’t laughed so hard in ages. I sobered up and decided to walk home since everyone else had gone off to bed, or were on their way there. I managed to eat shit on my half a block walk home. Tore my hand up a bit, blood everywhere and I didn’t even have the excuse that I was drunk. I just sat there for a moment laughing and hoping that no one witnessed it. I feel that by the age of 22 the mere act of walking should be well ingrained yet, it is a motor function I have yet to perfect.
Monday ended up being a lazy day for everyone. Peter especially since he was hung over as fuck.
Those of us remaining in Bellingham left on Tuesday to head back to the Eastside. We celebrated Mike’s 22 on the Ave., which was fun when it wasn’t awkward. We spent a good deal of the night at a bar called the Rat and the Raven. I thought it looked like a dive bar, except that it was much too clean. Then I found out it’s only been open for about a month so that cleared things up, give it another month and it will truely be a dive.
Since then, Rachel and I have made it to the kangaroo petting zoo and an English Pub complete with rugby games on TV. Also, Erika and I made it to Mecca (Starbucks Corporate) to see the Avett Brothers perform a free show.
Life has been good, and the summer I do get has been living up to its full potential.
No comments:
Post a Comment