Charlee’s Slice:
Apologies readers, we suck. It’s not like we haven’t had a shit ton of stuff to tell you about, its just that time is hard to come by these days. Since we’ve last written I’ve been to Italy and back. That was a blast, I definitely have the travel bug in me now and am already planning a return trip with Austin and Maggie at the end of summer. But since most of you have heard my stories already I’m just going to skip a head two months time to the last two weekends.
I’ve had a crazy amount of homework so I’ve been mostly spending my days in the library, but Friday Jan. 29th. Erin and I met up with Rachel at Mike and Peter’s house. Erin and I were a on our way to being little drunk when we got to the guys’ house and beer pong helped get us the rest of the way there. I managed to offend everyone in the room (aside from Tony) with comments about dog eating. I’m not sure how this topic of conversation came up again, but I think it had to do with the reopening of the back east BBQ that had been closed for a month. Anyway, I thought one of Tony’s friends was kind of cute, but I think he thought of me as a kind of monster. He was all high and mighty on himself, being a vegetarian and all. At that point I was tripping backwards on keyboards and being obnoxious so Erin and I decided to head out. The next night was Tony’s girlfriend’s party. Same vegetarian guy was there so I just decided I’d go apologize if I caused offense. He was pretty good humored about it and just decided it would be an on-going joke. I was still on the fence about cuteness factor but I was defiantly not having the whole vegetarian thing. Plus the fact that he pulled out mustache wax and a mustache comb from his pocket for his I’m not sure if it was ironic hipster Dali mustache. I left the party early because OH yea! I got a bone spur and it causes me to favor my right foot which causes my hips to hurt which means I really don’t enjoy dance parties right now!
This last weekend was somewhat less eventful. Everyone went home Friday night for various reasons, so I stayed home and worked on homework and watched movies until late. Saturday was such a beautiful day that Peter and I decided to walk down and get fish and chips from the waterfront dive bar. When I got home I got a call from my friend Alyssa that she was in town and wanted to meet up. Peter and I met back up again later to go out to the bars. Due to measuring issues (confusion about the double-shot glasses and my unwillingness to leave any extra vodka behind) I had about 4 shots in 5 minutes. We promptly left Peter’s and went to Alex W.’s house down the street for a quick visit. I was invited to a civil war party next weekend, I exclaimed that I’d go dressed as a black man or a turn coat, which at that point I realized I was drunk. Ranae met with us right as we were leaving Alex’s and the three of us ventured to the bars. I tried calling Alyssa, she and her friends had gone to the wild buffalo, but there was a cover and we had all seen the band so we agreed to meet later. I ordered a drink at the shoe, even though I didn’t need it. Some drunk old guys sat at our table briefly then told us they were both married and had to leave. We finished out drinks there and decided to try casa que pasa’s tequila bar, where I somehow managed to be convinced to buy a double whiskey coke which I really didn’t need. It sat on the table untouched for most of the time that we were there, but when the bill came and I realized I bought a $7.00 drink and not wanting it to go to waste,I chugged it down. That was my down fall. Ranae and Peter helped me out with it, but still. And this was all before midnight. We decided just to head back to Peter’s house, Ranae and I attempting to sing jewel songs on the way there. I wasn’t at Peter’s house long because as soon as I sat down to see Larry David on the TV screen, I got the spins. Peter walked me home, thank goodness because I probably would not have made it otherwise. From there I am not entirely sure what happened. I woke up the next morning IN MY HALLWAY. On a good note, I had managed to get on my pajamas, and I found a blanket to curl up with in the hallway, but still. I don’t think I’ve ever been so ridiculously drunk. I’m not sure what happened, since I wasn’t even all that set on drinking that night. I wasn’t really sick the next day, but I decided to skip the Super Bowl and just stay in bed all day. Also, the next morning I got a drunk voicemail from Alyssa “Charlee, where are you? We-me and Logan-we are by the…the sign… The STREET sign. Come find us!” Through all that I managed to completely miss Alyssa, I am so lame. Is that when you start questioning whether you are an alcoholic? You miss important things like meeting up with friends you haven’t seen in 8 months because you are too drunk to find them by the street sign? I’m going to go with NO for now, but stay tuned…haha.
P.S. I have forgone eating pie in favor of double whiskey cokes.
P.P.S. sorry liver.
Rachel’s Slice:
Yep, been neglecting this baby. Between writing crazy amounts for school and not having internet, certainly hard to post a blog. Much like Charlee, I’m going to just skip most of December and January and give you some words of wisdom to help you in your current times of stress and seasonal depression.
I will say that 2010 started with a bang—all definitions you can think of apply.
So, let’s get to the part where I tell you that I’m going stir crazy. I have a Tuesday-Thursday schedule this quarter which means I literally have four day weekends. With so much time on my hands, I’ve been getting a little too reflective. I over analyzed like crazy the fact that at this moment, I am incredibly single. I mean, yeah, I haven’t had a true “boyfriend” in two years. Since I was 17 though, there hasn’t been a time when I sat down and realized that there wasn’t a single guy I could call up for a good time. That scared the shit out of me. I started thinking on that—with all my fucking free time—and realized I hadn’t gotten anywhere but a few sexual partners deeper. Honestly, one-night-stands and going home with guys on a whim gets really predictable and boring after awhile.
Then, I read The Bell Jar for my 60s Lit class and I really started getting depressed. I read the narrative and began to identify with the character completely: she too had no reason to get out of bed most days of the week. Sometimes it’s a good thing to identify with a literary alter-ego; this time not so much. This fact became startlingly apparent when I for some fucked in the head reason, I thought it’d be super interesting to write about ways I thought I could kill myself. Not like planning it out, but like “Ehh, if I had to, I guess I’d be okay with drowning.” So I wrote about that for like an hour in my writer’s journal until it clicked in my head that I needed to get the fuck out of dodge and go for a ride in my Jeep. My Jeep, as always, saved me. So I’m writing my final essay on driving topless.
After all of this crazy shit went down and I realized I was becoming a shut-in in a creepy way, I decided to go dancing. So, I hit up my girl Ellen and we went out for what was supposed to be a chill 90s night at the Night Lite. You know where this is going right? I mean, you have read this blog before haven’t you? If you thought the next thing I’d say was: “I got too drunk,” you get half a point. If you guessed: “I danced with a dude the way only a cock tease can,” you score one. If you guessed: all of the above, you get 3 because I’m feeling generous.
I’m naming names for one of the first times in my Pie-Girl history because this douchebag deserves to be called by his first name. So, I’m at the bar with Ellen getting a drink. A guy comes up and asks if I’m with someone. I motion towards Ellen and her fine-ass neighbor that met us out. Brent—as he then introduced himself—then asks me to dance with him. He wasn’t too bad looking, so I said yes of course. After a little quality time on the floor, he asks for my number and my group migrates to another bar. I shoot Brent a text to tell him our next bar.
Strike one: Brent texts back: why don’t you just come back and chill with me by yourself?
I may be a liberal girl, but I’m not a skank.
Strike Two: Cute neighbor and I are waiting outside a bar for Ellen who went to the bathroom. Brent walks past and through derogatory tone and language implies I’m a skank:
Brent: So that’s how it is?
Me: ….
Cute Neighbor: Yeah, that’s how it is dude. Show some respect.
Brent: Cha, why don’t you respect a brother huh?
Me to Cute Neighbor: Dude, just let it be, you don’t need to start shit.
Cute Neighbor to Me: Look, anything that would be going on between you and me is our business only. It’s no one else’s.
And then I fell in love. Kidding, but it was probably one of the nicest genuine things a guy has said to me in awhile.
Strike three: Brent calls me at 2:30, then again at 3:30. I deleted his fucking number.
So dear readers, I’m calling it good night since I’m wiped out from driving from here to kingdom-come and back the last few days and the amazing ass of Taylor Goldsmith. Dance in those doldrums, kiddos.
XOXO, Rachel
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