Weekend Update


A friend and I went to Nerd Nite at DC9 Saturday.  It was both informative and funny and involved beer.  I would highly recommend it for a first date, for if you truly hate each other, you can focus very intently on the nerdy lecture part of the evening. 


Following Nerd Nite, said friend and I went and sang some karaoke (mostly against our will) in Adams Morgan.  I was forced to sing, thus will not apologize for the pain I caused everyone’s eardrums with my off-key/terrible voice.

I’m also now very impressed that (some, not all) rappers are able to smoke so much weed.  You need some wicked lung capacity.  Halfway through “Drop it like it’s Hot” I was hyperventilating.  


A very tall man kept creeping up behind me and ordering beer over my head at DC9.  His body would briefly lean forward into mine and I had to resist with every ounce in my being to not press my whole body back into his and beg him to hold me. 


I have a crush on Ice-T circa Law and Order:SVU.  I’m not ashamed.  I say that with pride, people.


Two of my roommates—A and C for our purposes here— had been in a knock down drag out fight for much of the past 3 weeks or so.  I have no idea what the fight was about, nor did I have any interest in knowing (I was Switzerland), but the shit finally hit the fan, as they say, on Saturday afternoon.

When I arrived home from the gym, they were screaming at each other in the living room.  Half of me was happy they were finally duking it out.  Living in a house with 2 people who refuse to speak to one another is real fucking awkward.  The other half of me wanted to run away.  I hate confrontation.  Blame it on the divorced parents. 

A and C aired their grievances at top volume for about 10 minutes, brokered peace and then shook hands— it might have even been a spit shake.  After they made up, B and I (3rd roommate, also not involved) took shots of vodka. 

I thought moving in with a grip of dudes, I would be avoiding such situations but I was wrong.  Granted, there are some differences between men and women in the way things go down.  Once the boys got good and mad at each other, did some yelling and called it quits, peace was really reached.  In my mean girls experience, there tends to be a longer duration of bitterness and some tears involved (although the silent treatment was spot on).  A and C are back to talking and my household is once again in frat boy harmony— the drama queens.

The end.


Go buy Tina Fey’s book Bossypants immediately.  I so want to be her best friend.  I would braid her hair and shit while we talked about our feelings. 

*How my mother describes someone in need of a little action.


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