What a busy, hilarious week. There is too much to write about, so I am settling for pictures and captions. This is choppy, but appropriate given the state of things…
This week featured a massive iced-tea spill at the office. Amber is cackling as I run to fetch napkins:
Note: Best Week Ever (BWE) posts are a summary of the prior week.
This week had a surreal vacationy feel. It was like spring-break minus the nice weather.There was Trivia, yarking drag queens, dancing, and intense pool tournaments.
On Friday, I somehow found myself at a house party in the exurbs. There were about 8 people, but I only knew Jack. After an unsuccessful game of Categories, Jack’s friends separated into small groups and started bickering.
It was a chaotic scene that felt like an episode of The Real World because the partygoers kept interrupting their trash talk to give me back story as if I was one of the confessionals.
The hostess and her boyfriend fought mostly because he didn’t like her tone, which she couldn’t control because she was drunk. They were too crunk for Jesus to communicate properly, so there was a lot of running around to separate rooms, screaming, and dramatics.
One guy kept rattling on about his most recent trip to jail, and another girl spent a hour telling me an epic story about her evil Russian stepmother. The girl’s stepmother stories apparently enraged one of the partygoers who started mumbling dark threats and eventually went up to the girl and shouted, “NO ONE LIKES YOU! WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE? NO ONE WANTS YOU HERE! YOU’RE A BITCH!”
This happened as she stood near the hostess’s awkward apartment-mate, who spent most of the evening by himself playing shoot-em-up video games. The gamer and I exchanged a look like “oh snap, thank god we aren’t involved in this….”
Aside from my social activities and Real World cameos, I also worked on my days off from school.
Apparently this is what I look like when I get a securities regulation case at work:
I really like my job, but I hope that if they hire me after graduation that my coworkers won’t wear hot pink skinny pants. Amber was so shocked by the pepto bismol pants on Friday that she sent me an emergency text. It was glorious.
I spent most of my non-working time this weekend cleaning and doing homework. Today I went to Dunn Brothers to study for corporate tax, but I failed to notice that there were no open seats until after I ordered my coffee. So I chugged the coffee and went to the Purple Onion, which is closer to campus.
The cafes immediately surrounding campus aren’t busy at the beginning of the semester since the undergrads are still doing more drinking than reading. They complete the transition from bars to books about a week before finals, so there is room for me for majority of the semester.
The last major thing that happened this week was the end of the relationship.
The cattle call started once my “single” status hit people’s facebook streams – dozens1 of casual friends who barely kept in touch while I had a boyfriend are suddenly coming out of the woodwork and are desperate to “hang out.”
I am like the 10-year old girl who is suddenly popular because she is the first one in her class to use a training bra. I feel suspicious and harassed essentially for the reasons stated in this post.
Over the coming weeks I will weed out the true friends from the fair-weather suitors. We’ll see how that goes.
1 Literally, dozens. My inbox is full. You’d think Beyonce was on auction or something…
Everything is funny right now. I might be delusional from my 7-hour fees committee meeting and two hours of Civil Procedure reading…but I suspect not.
What’s so funny? Well, Stella and I are at the Purple Onion Cafe, and the guy in line at the register is saying this to his female friend (verbatim):
Guy in Line: “Do you just not shower? Is that how your hair gets so nice? It’s cute. I think it’s cute. IT’S CUTE!”
I snicker about this and then read the following hypo in my book:
“Would it have made a difference if the product that exploded had been a toaster that the defendant also manufactured and distributed only in the Northeast?”
I think things have reached that point where it’s best to close the book and walk away…
I felt like a certain Ms. Someone yesterday because the Crazies were out in full force.
1. Rocker-Clepto Crazy
I sat at the B&N Café downtown at the window-counter. To my left was a tall redheaded punk boy with tattoos and an overbite.
To Punkboy’s left is an Arden B girl: a petite, no-nonsense Brunette who is refined in an unfriendly (but not quite bitchy) way. She’s hunched over her laptop with a grimace on her face.
Punkboy leans over to Ms. Arden and asks to use her phone,
Punkboy: I really really need to call my girlfriend. I can’t use my phone because I don’t have any minutes. It will be really short I promise.
Ms. Arden squirms a bit like “gasp why are you talking to me?!” She then says ‘sure’ and hands over the phone.
Punkboy (on Ms. Arden’s phone): Hey Jamie, it’s me. I’ve been waiting for you at the downtown Barnes and Noble for two hours now. I really really wish you’d pick up your phone baby. I’m going to be here until 4 and then I’m heading over to Rob’s house. I have all your stuff here, your bag, your bike. Why won’t you pick up the phone? If you’re not here by four you can find it over at Rob’s house. I really wish you’d pick up the phone. I hope you’re safe.
Punkboy leaves this whiny message as loudly as possible. I exchange “wtf” looks with Ms. Arden and a pretty Somali woman with an elaborate headscarf at a table behind us. The Somali shoots Punkboy one of the nastiest looks I’ve ever seen.
Punkboy gives the phone back to Ms. Arden and thanks her profusely.
Ms. Arden: No problem.
Punkboy: I really really appreciate it.
Ms. Arden (avoiding eye contact): Okay, seriously, no problem.
Punkboy: It’s just that she’s a Clepto, and I’m never sure if she’s been arrested or not. That’s why I don’t go shopping with her it’s like, “What did you take now?”
Ms. Arden (still staring at her laptop yet completely annoyed): Well, good luck with that.
About 40 minutes later I see this ratty looking girl outside. She looks like a dirty, black-haired version of Robyn. She’s weirdly hunched like she’s cold or violated. She just wanders near the Café window looking over her shoulder (either for a coat or her attacker I guess).
Punkboy looks up, sees Cracked-Robyn and shouts, “TENTH!”
He then jumps up, almost knocking over his chair, and runs outside. Ms. Arden, the Somali and I are all wide eyed / what the hell?
We watch Punkboy run outside and grab Cracky-Robyn by the arm. He hugs her and kisses her. Ms. Arden, the Somali, and I exchange a look. Que Crazy.
Punkboy and Cracky-Robyn come in, gather all their crap and leave. Thank goodness. I returned to Underworld with my phones in.
A few minutes pass and then this stocky short guy sits next to me. He’s middle aged and wears a camouflage cap. He has several of those current-event “administration/political expose books.”
Whcih brings us to #2 – Camouflage Crazy
Since it was the day of the Crazies, of course Camouflage starts talking to me. At first I’m confused because I have my headphones in. I always thought headphones and a book at a café sent a very clear “fuck you & yours/don’t bother me” message.
Camouflage starts telling me about Cheney’s cover up involving WMDs and the Iraq war. There are secret contracts and conspiracies. He goes into detail.
The whole time I stare at him blankly like, “why are you talking to me? Why why why sweet baby Jesus!?”
Camouflage goes on for about ten minutes. And then finally shuts up.
#3 Gaunt the Enquirer Crazy
Later that day I was at the Purple Onion Café, my local hangout. I had headpones on, listening to Rautemusik and attempting to catch up on my favorite blawgs. This gaunt African man (with too many bags) walks in and sits at a table near me. I smile briefly and then look back at the laptop.
A few minutes pass and he asks,
Gaunt-guy: So what are you working on?
Me (taking off an earphone): Pardon me?
Gaunt-guy: what are you working on?
Me: Nothing. I’m reading legal blogs.
Gaunt-guy: What?
Me: Uh, I’m looking at websites.
Gaunt-guy: Oh.
I put my phones back in. Bothered. Crazy #3 at my favorite Cafe. NOOO.
Gaunt-guy: Are you a student at the University of Minnesota?
Me (again, taking off an earphone): What?
Gaunt-guy: Are you a student at the University?
Me: Erm, Yes.
Gaunt-guy: What do you study?
Me: Law.
Gaunt-guy: Very Good.
Me: Do you teach at the University?
Gaunt-guy: No, I wish.
Gaunt-guy goes back to his book and I put my earphone back in, legitimately worried that I just gave too much information to a serial killer.
Gaunt-guy: Where did you go for undergrad?
Me: University of Miami.
Gaunt-guy: What did you study?
Me: History and English.
Gaunt-guy: Ah, so you’re a good writer?
Me: I hope so.
Gaunt-guy: Well, it looks like you have a good background. English and History. Yes. Good background indeed.
Gaunt guy continues reading in his book, and waits for me to put my headphones back in before talking again.
Gaunt-guy: Are you from this country?
Me (wondering why I’m telling him as I’m telling him): No, Germany.
Gaunt-guy: Ah, I’m reading a German philosopher right now. Have you heard of him?
Me: No, sorry.
This line of questioning continued for a bit. It became extremely annoying. I felt like the crew of MTV’s Boiling Points would jump out at any moment. They never did. I eventually got frustrated so I called the first friend in my phone, packed up the laptop, and left.