Monday, December 28, 2009

Two thousand Ten shall begin

I've been chatting with one of my favorite people. He might be the one of the goofiest people I know, but he is magnificently charming and I value his opinion dearly. After talking to him, all I can think about is New Years and relationships (or lack there of)

In 2010: I will graduate, I will turn 23, I will hopefully follow through with my new years resolutions, and I will begin the next stage of my life. Those things, I could care less about right now. I want to have one hell of a night on the 31st. Hopefully meet a total stranger to kiss on New Years, and hopefully never have to run into them again. And hopefully that stranger is not someone that one of my friends has a history with, because that would be my luck.

As for relationships, I'm 100% content with being single. Although many associate the word single with being lonely, I, on the other hand do not. Single, Singular. One. Yes, all you have to think about is yourself and what's going to make YOU happy. It's rather liberating, not at all lonely. If you are lonely, find some friends.

Dear New Years, I need one drama free, crazy good time. Please try hard. Thanks.

Sunday, December 13, 2009

Royal Mess-ups

Speechless. It's a problem that I rarely face, but presently, this problem is overwhelming me. I've been trying to come up with a certain set of words for a few weeks now. A certain set of words that I know are going to hurt someone that I care about. I know that after I compose these words, the pain that they will cause my friend will also hurt me.

I have spent the last few weeks in a war with my conscience. My head is telling me to do one thing, my heart agrees, but the huge serving of guilt that has been settling in my stomach has kept me from doing the right thing.

Since I didn't follow what my head and heart have been telling me to do, which is come clean with the truth, I have "royally messed-up." I don't deserve to call this person my friend, because I didn't treat them like one.

I owe them an explanation a.s.a.p. The words "I'm sorry" never seem to be enough. I love my life, and I try to not make regrets, but if I regret anything it would be the friendships I've lost over the years.

I'm trying to calculate the words. I'm working on it, but until then all I can say is "I'm sorry." Karma is coming to kick me in the butt, if it makes you feel better.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009


DTR. These three letters send people over the edge. For those of you who are illiterate to 21st century jargon, DTR is the code word for "defining the relationship." Usually boys avoid the "DTR" talk like the plague, but my friends may be worse than boys. There is something ridiculously scary about the words "committed" or "monogamous" or "taken."

Even if you're absolutely crazy about someone, being 100% committed to a relationship causes a little heartburn. The word single just sounds so inviting, adventurous, and mysterious. The options are endless. Being in a relationship sounds so predictable and boring.

My friend (we'll refer to her as the Perpetual Postponer from now on, because she is notorious for dodging the DTR) has essentially been committed to a certain boy for almost a semester now. She hasn't been looking for any other prospects and spends an abundance of time with this one certain boy that she claims to not be committed to. So what's stopping her? Letting go of being single may be worse than breaking up with someone. It's a lifestyle change, and frankly it's just intimidating. I don't think miss Perpetual Postponer will be able to postpone the DTR much longer, so we'll see how the girlfriend shoe fits her.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009


A little boy goes to his dad and asks, 'What is Politics?' Dad says, 'Well son, let me try to explain it this way:
I am the head of the family, so call me The President.
your mother is the administrator of the money, so we call her the Government.
We are here to take care of your needs, so we will call you the People.
The nanny, we will consider her the Working Class.
And your baby brother, we will call him the Future.

Now think about that and see if it makes sense.'

So the little boy goes off to bed thinking about what Dad has said. Later that night, he hears his baby brother crying, so he gets up to check on him. He finds that the baby has severely soiled his diaper. So the little boy goes to his parents' room and finds his mother asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he goes to the nanny's room. Finding the door locked, he peeks in the keyhole and sees his father in bed with the nanny. He gives up and goes back to bed. The next morning, the little boy says to dad.

'Dad, I think I understand the concept of politics now.' The father says, 'Good, son, tell me in your own words what you think politics is all about.' The little boy replies, 'The President is screwing the Working Class while the Government is sound asleep. The People are being ignored and the Future is in deep shit.

Sunday, October 18, 2009

The Drunk Text

It's 11pm on a weekend night in Stillwater. My friends and I make the march to the Strip. Slowly the group disperses to socialize. At 1am, everyone heads to Murphy's and the magic starts to happen. There's something about those palm trees that makes people make bad decisions. The first bad decision starts with the cell phone. Let the drunk texting begin. About 1am texts usually read something like "hey where are you?" or "hey where you headed after this?"

Then the jello shots come into the picture. There's nothing attractive about squeezing those colorful syringes in someone else's mouth, but yet that seems to be the acceptable greeting at Murphy's. "Oh hey, (insert name) I haven't seen you since last time I was Murphy's, have some of my colorful jello." The night just keeps getting better.

Then I see the sign. You know, the one on that white board with glowing lights around it. It says the magic words, "drink specials." 7 and 7 for $3.25? Heck yes I'd like one, Sweet Caroline! So good, so good, soo good.

The drunk texting takes another round. I check my phone and see, "hmm...welyou shoud cum ovr laterrrrr" or "wel I lve to cee you toightt." Translations: "hmm... well you should come over later" or "well I'd love to see you tonight"

This next part is my favorite part of Murphy's. Do you ever find yourself holding hands with the person next to you and either A. Can't remember their name for the life of you or B. Think what am I doing holding their hand??... oh no!!, this will be awkward tomorrow, hope no one sees this. Then I hear the cue. Ba ba dadada. All those worries go away. I huddle around with everyone around me and sing and dance the heck out of New York, New York. Closing time comes way too soon and I check my phone to call my friends so we can walk home together. My phone then has 7 messages.
roomie 1: "hey see you tomorrow, I left, don't hate me. bye."
roomie 2: "he picked me up, i'll be home later"
roomie 3: "everyone left me!! Where are you?"
roomie 4: "I went to the Penny, see you at subway sunday"
Guy who I was holding hands with: "hy whre are you heade 2niggt?" - translation "Hey where are you headed tonight?"
Skizz: "come over" (only to find out the next day, it was a mass text to all the girls in his phone book. I always wonder what happens to this boy, because what if four girls came over?)
and finally...
Boy who shared jello shot: "hey where'd you go?"

Don't even get me started on the post-bar drunk dialing. Texts become indecipherable and the scrolling through the contacts begins.

Point of the story: If you really were interested in someone, use the hours between 11am and 8pm to contact them. Maybe invite them out for a coke or even some ice cream. When you are the subject of Subway Sunday (because don't worry, you will be), do you want to be the drunk, slutty boy that we make fun of or the gentleman that followed up the next morning?

Sunday, October 4, 2009

Subway Sunday

Every Sunday, you can count on my crew rolling out to Subway for lunch. Valentine, the Subway sandwich specialist, knows all of our orders by heart. It's a time for us to divulge all the dirty details of our weekend (or sometimes entire week). What is said at Subway, stays at Subway. We don't judge, just listen and laugh.

It's one big spill session. The topics of conversation are not appropriate for Subway and definitely not appropriate for the internet. I'll let your imagination take it from here.

Some of us show up in our Church attire, some in our pj's, and the best one's show up in their shacker clothes. Stacey usually starts the circle and finishes it (She loves being the boss). Each person takes a turn and shares what the weekend unfolded.

This one meal, once a week, means the world to me. When I graduate I won't miss the drama, the crazy test weeks, or the hangovers. I'll miss Subway Sunday, the dance parties that break-out among my friends at any given moment, drown nights at dirty's, and having my friends at my side all freaking day, because they are the only one's that truly understand that my life is simply a series of awkward moments waiting to erupt.

I have the best friends in the entire world. We would brag on each other all day if we had the time. We don't have the time though, because we are too busy keeping up with everyone's crazy lives. They are superhero's and I'm pretty sure we could conquer the world if we made it our goal. But that's not our goal at all. Our singular goal is to have a good time ALL the time. As long as I wake up tomorrow and know I have them beside me, I know I can get through absolutely anything.

There are people in this world that will go their entire lives without finding friends like the one's that I have. To those loners, I wish them the best luck at life, because I don't know how they get through it honestly. What I do know is that every day I take a step back and remember: "Damn, I got it good."

Until next time...