Wow. Just wow.

This weekend was a whole snotload of fun times. Friday eve I went out for a birfday party and then as I was on my way to can only be described as a "jaunt" with my friend Randal, I happened upon a friendly chap sitting in the dark by himself. Sensing that this can only imply good things, when he said hello, I paused long enough for him to latch onto my visage, at which point he said, "When I meet intriguing people I want to ask them questions." I seem to be getting that description a lot lately and I kind of wonder what everyone is implying. Anyway, as he took out a piece of paper with some typed questions on it, I decided to query, "Are you high or just really drunk?" "What?...Yes." It took me 5 minutes, one moment where he accused some guy on a bike of trying to shoot me, and my promising that I was packing heat before I extricated myself in a properly polite manner. You know those bike-by shootings. They're everywhere these days. Saturday evening I got to see FRED!!! and then subsequently scared the crap out of myself watching Ringu. It's times like these that I wish I had some sort of male figure to command. Richard is not really commandable, but he does live there and can't escape my neediness. Of course, he wasn't there this weekend, but I did manage to convince a couple of people to soothe me in my freaked out state that, oh yes, I definitely was the cause of.

So. Admitted Applicant weekend. A whole weekend of supercilious, egocentric people. My kind of weekend. I will admit that some of the people have been thuper. I'm going to go ahead and say that I can count them on my right hand and they were all friends of mine before this weekend. One of them already attends the law school, another one is Oliver, who has nothing to do with the law school, and then a few errant people whom I'm fond of. People checking in ran the gamut from your average shyness, to bubbly friendlike behavior, to one guy who had greased back black hair and a Hawaiian shirt who insisted on shaking my hand. Ewwwww. Anyway, yesterday one of my "jobs" was to sit in a room with a bunch of luggage and, you know, watch it, and I suppose wait for people to come pick it up. Many of the moments I shared as the collective bellboy for these people were special, but one particularly stands out in my mind. A boy wearing a Duke t-shirt hands me his little card with the number on it that corresponds to the luggage. I look down between our feet and there lies his Duke duffel. So he says, "Yeah, that's the one." You know, the one at both his and my feet. Then he stares at me. ... I'm really not getting tipped for this. In fact, one could argue that I'm there as a nicety and, honestly, they can cart their own crap around all day for all I care. So why he thought I was itching to pick up his duffel and hand it directly to him is a little beyond me, but I did it anyway with an accompanying look of disbelief.

Today has been a little more riveting. Arriving at 8 am to work and then moving bags for people isn't as glamorous as it sounds, but hey, it's more stimulating than just sitting with them alone in the dark. I didn't even mind it when several people dropped off their stuff and then made me go get it again so they could get a pen or something. Bitches. But somehow I was not charmed when a girl came by asking for special help concerning her rooming situation. Okay, so her request was fair. The poor thing had been given a room key but no key to swipe into the bathrooms. Ouch. She came midday today (you know, as opposed to at 9 am) to fetch the proper key and I was the one chosen to escort her to the housing office. To say that she was a weensy tad bitchy is subtley stating the obvious. In fact, the imply that she was a whole lot of bitchy to the poor woman at the housing office is fair. Accidents happen, mistakes are made, the lady doesn't live in the dorm so it's not surprising that she would forget. Honestly, it's not like the girl never got to pee, some dude let her into the girls' bathroom with his ID, so apparently everyone but her can access it. As we left the office, she turned to me and stated, "Retards". What a little sweetheart. Also, her name is Teale. That's just dumb.

I met the pizza fairy!!

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Spring forward into 40 F weather

This weekend was what some could call "red-letter". Not only did I actually go out on a Friday night, but I also, oh yes, saw Sin City, which was *fawesome*. My love for Bruce Willis has been reinstated and I totally want to be a hooker. But only one with semi automatic weapons and properly costumey ho clothing. One of them was dressed as Zorro!!!! She died I think...

Anyway, post Sin City, I was invited to a gay bar called Manray, which is located in Central Square. I have never been to Manray, but many of my gay friends have frequented their establishment, so I felt inclined to be one of the crowd and check it out. Needless to say, I was only going to go if I convinced Lola to go. Check. And if I didn't look like the crap I did for the movie. Check. So, in the pouring rain I made my way to what can only be described as an "eclectic" dance hall. The inside of it was like a bitter sweet marriage between preppy and reasonably attractive gay men and goth people. I don't know what the goth people are doing there or how they coexist, but they were kind of all over and I feel like there was another room I didn't go into where they could be suitably dismissive of pop culture. Anyway, after some nice dancing and intense fear that my top would just fly off of my newly tiny boobal region (curse you, exercise!!!), there was some subpar lip synching from a woman who desperately needed a bra and some superb dancing by the DJ Misery, who can do amazing high kicks and splits in 4-inch heels. I was in awe. I also think that DJ Misery is a man, but, honestly, I think it can be argued otherwise.

Which brings me to my next question. How come I only look attractive when there's no one around that cares? I mean, Lola kinda cares in the sense that she knows that I care, but I feel firmly that other than general friends looking out for other friends, I pretty much look good around people who could care less and bad around everyone else. Speaking of which, I don't know if anyone remembers a previous post I had about a temp at work hitting on me. Well, to refresh your memory, some guy did and I was not pleased. Not interested in preppy 30 year olds with ponytails who liked Buffy the Vampire Slayer more than I did. Yeah, not attractive. After receiving his number on a perforated paper business card, I expressed a general "Um, okay!" Of course I never called him. But guess who I managed to come across as I was walking home Friday? In all of Boston, even within Cambridge and Somerville, the likelyhood I would be on the same street corner at the same time on the same day is so very low. Thank God I have amazingly bad luck. Incidentally, it was the most awkward 10 minutes of my life, which the exception of that one time.