MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Hope you get everything you wanted this year *wink*

It’s been cold here. 27 degree wind chill.

I’ve been busy…..and hungover. I made the mistake of going out last wednesday, which was Halloween, and getting hammered. Had class the next morning at 9:30am, after going to bed at 3:30am. Never felt so sick in my life, just short of actually getting sick. Still managed to get a 7/10 on my quiz though! Had a headache the rest of the day, still went out that night though.

I didn’t drink the second night, but I learned a lot about the guys I was with. I felt dirty compared to them. One guy claimed to have dated a girl for three years, and never did anything more than make out. I quote, “She never touched my penis.” And he had still, by choice, never done anything more.

He also claimed to have never, in his life, masturbated. I’m pretty sure a) that’s not possible, and b) that’s not healthy.

The other guy I was with….had never even kissed a girl.

I felt so dirty. but then again, I also felt like the only Man of the three of us.

And they told me: “you’re not a girl. you’re a drinking buddy.” and I can live with that. I guess when I drink, I just don’t have a vagina or something.

On Saturday I finally got a guy to buy me a drink at the bar. First time since I’ve been here. Two Long Island Ice Teas! wootwoot! He was European too.

15 days till thanksgiving break!!!

So another Halloween weekend passes. Screw the 31st, it’s all about the weekend before.

So my costume this year was Daphne, from Scooby Doo! Surprisingly enough, people kept getting me confused with Velma. How the hell to you

make that mistake? Hot one, Ugly one. Seriously.

But regardless, I still had a great time. Got hit on by at least 5-6 guys, which always makes me feel good.

Lets see, so I hit up this party. 2$ cover for all you could drink. Three different kinds of shitty beer and everclear junglejuice! Which is rare in Ohio seeing as everclear is illegal to buy.

The first thing I notice is this guy dressed as a full on Spartan from the movie 300. His costume was incredible. Talk about dedication, he said he even shaved his legs then covered them with duct tape to look like sandals. I was seriously impressed. Then again, he hadn’t been drinking enough so he was obviously not being totally honest with me. I realized this when I told him I was a creative writing/journalism major and he tells me his dream is to travel around the world and write autobiographical fiction. Apparently I don’t get retarded drunk, so I could smell that bull shit a mile away.

Of course, I was pretty pleased that he thought I was a Junior. I felt bad, I had to tell him that I was actually a freshman before he tried to take me to the clubs or something. To which he seems a bit let down, and asks “…so…you’re 18 right?”

haha. Love that. He later lost interest and I decided to find my friends so I had an easy roll off, told him it was nice to meet him, then went to get more beer.

So my favorite part of the whole night was while I was just standing around, and this guy walks by, stops, and looks at me. He goes, “You have a very pretty face.” He pauses. Then he comes over to me, grabs my head, gets up in my face and says “I LOVE YOUR FACE!” Then he kisses my forehead, and walks away.

I felt so pretty! haha

Then some guy starts hitting on me, and he was just straight up creepy. I tried to roll off (a phrase I totally got from The Pickup Artist <3 that show) but the guy kissed my hand then kept staring at me while I was with my friends. Then when I went to get another drink, he corners me! Starts trying to get me to be his beer pong partner. Thank god my friends came to the rescue and decided we were leaving.

The crowning moment was the next morning when my friend texts me “I made out with [guy friend I came with].” I laughed out loud at brunch, and people looked at me funny.

Then came Saturday night. Went out with the girls, and we got snuck into a List Frat party, which means we needed wrist bands to get in. We called a guy, and he came out with 6 wristbands haha! Of course the place was PACKED. At one point I was literally smashed up against a speaker, and could not move. A girl behind us keeps yelling “PUSH THROUGH!” My friend Megan turns around, and tells her there is no where to push to, it was packed. To which the bitch replies, “Maybe you don’t understand. We’re kind of a big deal around here.”

Thank got Megan didn’t hit her. Personally, I just assumed that being a “big deal” means your the Frat’s designated sperm dumpster.

We left that mess, and headed to the track party. We walked right in since D is on the freaking track team, so she and I got darn good treatment. A guy dressed as Scooby Doo was hitting on me, and that was entertaining. I think he left with a friend of a friend though. I think guys are more gutsy on Halloween, in their costumes.

I ended up dancing with I believe on of the guys from Wayne’s world, some guy in a disco suit, and then my friends ex boyfriend. ooooh goodness.

Well, we danced and well, when I dance, I apparently get really into it, and uh, so did he. Nothing happened, because I’m a good girl and I love my boyfriend. But he got my phone number. I figured it was okay since he was always hanging out with the girls and I, we were all friends.

Well, we decided to leave, and he texts me at least 5 times asking if I was okay, yada yada. He even sends me a picture messages, with no picture..asking for a picture?

I get back to the dorm and my friend Emily is in the hall. She lost her room key and her roommate wasn’t back yet. So we were talking, and Mike, the ex, keeps calling me, so I give Emily the phone, and she tells him to stop calling me. Then for some reason, he thinks my name is Sara? But we corrected him, then out of the blue he thinks my name is Christian? ummm..k? But he was raving about my dancing.

He is taking the breakup with my friend really hard so he has been drinking a lot, thus that night he was blackout drunk, and I haven’t heard from him since. Thank God! I really don’t need that drama.

Plus, I love my boyfriend

Overall, It was a darn fun Halloween and I got a super ego boost! SOMEONE LOVES MY FACE!!

So its two months today since I got my navel pierced, and I finally couldn’t take it anymore. I had to change it. Hopefully it was healed enough! I took a picture! Unfortunately, having it now just makes me want to do cruntches. But I thought I would share with everyone! I’m SUPER excited about it.

And you know you love my penguin boxers.

EDIT: it is so freaking irritated right now, I want to cry. Not infected…yet. But it’s bright red, puffy, and sensitive all around the top. Switching rings was such a bad idea. stupid stupid me. It hurts right now.  *cries* god please get better

Now, you often hear about people’s run ins with the cops. This past weekend….I had two.

Now, consider it just dumb luck, or flat out stupidity. When it comes to college students, the times we escape the fuz is the dumb luck. I think this time, stupidity just caught up with us.

Friday night, I skipped my Friday workout to jump on board with the girls in my hall’s camping trip. They had forgotten to invite me. No really, they asked me that day why I wasn’t going. Then realized they had never asked me, and instead just assumed I was going. So I convinced my injured friend D who was on crutches to come with me and go with the girls to camping, about 30 minutes off campus.

Well, I find out when we get there that all they brought was Vodka, which just isn’t my friend. And they bought PopOff at that, the cheapest vodka you can buy in Ohio.

Here’s an interesting fact. You can’t buy everclear in ohio. The alcohol content is too high. No wonder Jungle Juice sucks here.

Anyway, so it’s about 9 girls and 8 boys at this camp site. It got dark pretty early, and we started drinking at 6:30pm. Most the campers were sloshed by 9, I on the other hand was having a hard time seeing as Vodka just tastes like shit. Eventually though, I decide to suck it up because I was bored out of my mind. I take three shots of vodka, and chase it, because that’s just necessary.

Then I feel that I need to go to the bathroom. Me and two girls, including D on her crutches, walk to the bathroom, and on our way there, this cop stops. He gets out of his car, and luckily walks right past us. Hmmm, wonder where he is headed…. I call back to the campsite and let them know what’s coming there way. We get to the bathroom, and I have to maneuver around a bunch of 5 year olds, as the first shot begins to strike. Not too hard really. Then, after I finish what I have to do, the rest of the girls come to the bathroom and tell us that the cop is just standing there. Interesting.

Second shot hits. I decide that there is no way I am going back.

D, having finally sobered up starts to notice that I’m….not too emotionally okay. I seem to have been walking around telling people I was not okay to go back.

D realizes that I am correct in this, as the third shot hits. She decides she needs to drive me home.

So we get back to her car, which is on the other campsite, and I get in and straight away call my boyfriend. The minute he says hello, I start bawling. Mmmm shot number three of cheap shitty vodka. It’s always the third one.

D is all ready to drive me home, then one of the boys come and snatches her keys away, believing she is not okay to drive. Well, she gets her crutches out of the back and chases after him. All the while the cop is at the camp site and I’m in the car bawling.

Eventually she comes back and he head out, only to realize that we aren’t completely sure how to get home. Most the ride, all I remember is crying, having to pee like a race horse, and at one point giving the phone to D and having to get out to ask the car behind me which way to go.

Eventually, we got back to the room. My roommate was there with a friend. I walk right past them, not a word. Jump on my bed, and pass out.

And I believe, it all ended at 1:30am.

Later that night though, My ex calls me up, drunk. And I got to listen to him throw up while on the phone. Lovely.

But that was Friday! Saturday will be awesome! Yes? No.

Saturday night, I get all dressed up in my pretty new dress, do my hair, put on some smexy eyeliner. I looked damn hot. I was gonna go help my friend, Phil, celebrate his birthday. Of course, due to his own drinking violation that past Friday, he wasn’t drinking. By the time I found the party he was at, they were out of beer, or mostly. I shotgunned one beer, then realized I had a two beer tolerance to feel anything. So I was sober all night. Phil and I got stuck walking around with all our drunk friends, getting declined from parties and such.

Eventually, we are walking down the street, and this cop drives by. He stops. Gets out of his car. And walks over to our group. Most of us keep walking, but he calls back two of my friends. They had been arguing. The cop asks if they had been drinking. They say no, sir. But then realize, that they aren’t sure if it was a male or female cop. Hah.

Well, thank god they pulled it together. Because they only got warnings. One more ‘warning’ and they are getting arrested. eek.

Then we walked around, and again, were home by 1:30pm.

Okay, so I never actually ran into the cops myself. I do consider that lucky. But I can’t say I had a very good weekend. Upset or Sober. Yick.

So recently I had got a little addition to my body – yes indeed, a navel piercing.

Now, I was not aware till after I got it that there seems to be a certain stigma about the navel piercing, that girls who get them tend to be loose, enjoy partying, and work at strip clubs or end up in porn. Okay, the last two are a result of my…er…own research. I never realized until recently how many of the women in porn seem to have such a piercing. I’d like to believe that there is no correlation here, but it does make me wonder why my boyfriend was so thrilled that I had it done.

So thrilled in fact that took me, paid for it, and bought me ones to change in and out. Yes, very interesting indeed. But I don’t mind, he likes it, I like it, and well, who knows where my career path will lead me. I’m a creative writing major after all, I’ve got to make money some how.

But for anyone that is curious, it doesn’t hurt initially, but it sure get sore. I had it done four weeks ago, right before I went back to school. It’s a bitch to take care of too. Washing it 3 times a day, applying ointment and antibacterial stuff. I was surprised it took this much care because I just don’t feel like some of the people I see with them  would bother putting up with so much work. But after four weeks, it’s getting there. Supposedly it takes at least 6 weeks to fully heal, but I don’t see any big changes happening to it in two weeks.

The worst part is when people hit it. OMFGZZ. Talk about pain. I had to move in with it, carrying box after box into my room. Talk about wanting to curl up and cry.

The best part is that so far, my father doesn’t actually know I had it done. This is because I’d really like him to continue to pay my college tuition. My mother promised not to tell, even though she wasn’t exactly pleased. I think she anticipates my career as a stripper, having started with that particular weekend. (A weekend filled with underage drinking, premarital sex, and body piercings.)

My boyfriend also made the mistake of telling his parents about the lovely adornment. They were not pleased. This upset me the most.

The day I got it, almost took it out. Just because I didn’t like how people were judging me. But hell, screw them. I’m keepin’ it baby! And if I become a stripper or porn star, well, I expect good tips and high grossing movie sales!

To be honest, I really think men like shiny things, and women without shiny things are jealous of women with shiny things. hmph.

I recently had the pleasure of being taken out to a club in DC. I had never really been “out,” unless you count the excursion that was the strip club, so I was (as one could say) a virgin to the whole experience, which I should be seeing as how I am not yet 21 (which is such a burden). But I find myself craving to go back, not necessarily relive that particular experience because well, let my tell you that there is nothing quite like puking your guts out the side of a nice ass porsche pulled over on 50. Let me tell you, a once in a lifetime experience that I want to remain that way.

See, I like to party which the highrollers, the people who carry wads of money around just in case they didn’t exactly tell their wives where they were actually going that night, and in turn would not be able to charge the bill. And when this is the case, it is imparitive that one look like a club rat at the arm of your sugar daddy, who of course is paying for the entire evening. While this was not the aim of my evening, I have a distinct feeling that by the end of the night, this was the assumption.

After getting picked up on a side street in “out wear” by a sexy porsche, I can only imagine what the people down the street were thinking. Had we been picked up on a corner in our high ass strappy heals, jeans so tight you almost needed plyers to pull up the zipper and thats IF you were lucky enough to manage to button the botton, and shirts that required double stick tape to remain decent, I think it would have been less suspicious.

Our first stop was the Ritz Carlton Martini Bar, which, ID is sooo not required, especially not if you’re the one footing the bill. The servers were like trained dogs. I probably could have had one get on all fours to be my foot rest had I so asked. We ordered strawberries for our Dom Perion champagne, which were promptly sent back due to the fact that the green had not been removed and they were not cut properly into halves. I believe it may be essential to being a highroller that you send at least one thing back during your visit to establish that Diva like superiority. This of course, was none of my doing, seeing as how I am allergic to champagne (“ma’am, I am so sorry.” – The Waiter to me upon our sugardaddy sharing this little tid bit with him).

I neglected to mention who I was accompanied with. Sugardaddy goes without saying, but also along was my new partner in crime, we’ll call her Hotblonde, because she is. Sexy bitch.

So while they sipped their $400 champagne, Sugardaddy ordered me the house martini, called the Fahrenheit. Lots of juices, and probably a couple shots of, I believe they said Rum. Malibu was mentioned too. Hell, like I remember. I don’t even remember drinking the second one. I know, lightweight right? I would pay for those drinks later in the night.

Of course it didn’t help that all I had eaten that day were skittles, and the tuna role appetizer that we got at the Ritz. That might have had something to do with it.

Voss water = high end classy water. Had my share that night, but alas, did me no good. But it was like drinking from a crystal waterfall raining down from the clouds of heaven in the arctic. Alright, maybe not really, but the way they described it on the bottle, it sure seemed like it. I don’t think that water is on the house, either.
Upon leaving the Ritz, we hit up this amazing club, KStreet Lounge – If you’re ever in DC, I’d really hit it up. Great array of music and people, upscale, and well, they let me, and for that, they are totally getting a plug.

Well, the Valet took the porsche to god knows where, but I thought it was cool, because I had never even experienced a valet before. I could really get used to this highroller life. Trained dogs at your beck and call. I’m totally getting a man servant.

Well, after a little swindling by sugardaddy, I was able to get in with a really shifty ID that is actually my old black belt ID that the Old Crazy Koreans screwed up my birthday on, so it actually says I’m 23. I figure if I hang around with Asians, I might be able to get away with it. And seeing as the guy at the door was in fact, Asian, this somehow worked, and we were escorted to our VIP table  (or rather tables) that Sugardaddy paid for for a whopping $500 each.

Now, I was told once you party VIP, you never go back, and oh. my. god. I should never have started out that way, because it was like being the coolest, hottest, and most desirable girl at the club, but just because I was behind the velvet ropes. We had Bouncers (large black men, of course) escorting me and Hotblonde to the bathroom whenever we felt the need. They pushed people out of our way, and made sure no one spilled anything on us. At one point, on the way back, a man leaned in front of me (not on purpose, or even consciously) and the Bouncer, lets call him Big Steve, because he seemed like a Big Steve to me, pushes the guy back into the crowd with a burly “Clear the way!” just so I could walk through. The man of course turned and appologized, but pff, I am so above those lesser middle of the club, crowd dweller.

Hotblonde and I spent a good deal of the night up on the dancing bar behind the VIP section, shaking what our mothers gave us, which in my case, was not as fantastic as Hotblonde, who is not only tall, tan, skinnly, blonde, and hot, she has probably the nicest personality ever. She’s pretty much that girl you want to hate, but just can’t because you lover her so much. Yes, I think I have a girlcrush. But unlike the various men in the club hooting at us and calling us down to the floor, I scored.

I like to consider myself a crowd pleaser, and please we did. She’s such a tease though, gosh. Nothing like a little girl-on-girl kissing to really spark a crowd. Big Steve of course, kept us well out of reach of the ass-grabbers, and tit-touchers. There was none of that.

Sugardaddy had a good time too. He knew one of the club owners (undoubtedly how he got me in) and that owner, Asian, was always hanging out with us in our VIP. I saw him eyeing up Hotblonde, but I wasn’t…too jealous. Not when he asked what I wanted to drink, and Hotblonde answers for me. Hell, I don’t even have to order my own drinks. But he texts my drink order to the bar, then minutes later, over priority to all others ordering drinks, my drink it brought to me. This drink, in retrospect, was probably a bad idea.

Well, eventually, Hotblonde and I go wandering around in the crowd, dancing and really just having a good time. Everyone seemed to want to dance with us (her). At one point, this very tall Asian man starts dancing with us, takes us over to the bar, buys us drinks, and shots. Now, at this point, I’m fucked up beyond what is probably a safe limit, but I’m feeling like I should start dancing on tables. A true sign of drunkeness. And let me just say that that so called “shot” was more like a triple. Soco and lime, while delicious, was not my friend that night. I had to spill some of the drink he bought me (who knows what drink that was) so I could spit half the shot back in. I still managed to drink half of it, which put me over, and resulted in my toilet-tastic end to the evening.

But beyond the drinks, this tall asian, who we will call, Tall Asian, gives us each a card, saying if we ever needed to get in, just to call him. (SCORE.) Then, he takes us back to HIS VIP table. We dance there and really get grooving. Come to find out, he is of course one of the owners of the bar (hence the card). Apparently, the bar is entirely Asian run. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a nail salon upstairs. But also, we were in the VIP suite of the OWNERS.

Now, I may not have much club experience, but I’m pretty sure that is not an easy feat. As Hotblonde later shared with me, It was hella cool that that happened. The doublestick tape shirts were totally worth it.

Of course, Sugardaddy got lonely and had Big Steve come and find us, and escort us back to his VIP table. Where, we continued to have a fantastic time.

Upon leaving, Sugardaddy and Hotblonde made the mistake of putting me in the backseat of this manual porsche. In the middle of DC, I beg them to pull the car over, and I just BARELY make it out of the car, projectile vomiting what I’m assuming were tuna rolls all over the ground in a random DC parking lot. Not only that, the parking lot was occupied by some gangbangers probably chilling to make a drug deal. Well, I hopefully livened up their night, and now the story about the drunk girl puking out of the sexy black porsche is all around their possy. Damnit. Puking so not sexy enough for a porsche.

Well, Sugardaddy managed two tickets on the way home, not sure how he’s explaining that one to his wife, seeing as how his “business meeting in Baltimore” doesn’t add up to him having speeding tickets in DC. And I managed to get sick again, as I mentioned, on the side of 50, and again, for a good portion of the night at Hotblonde’s house.

And it didn’t help the next morning to get a phone call at 8am from my mom wanting to know where the hell I am because she never got my message the day before that plans had changed and I would then be staying at Hotblondes. She was not pleased, and spent the entire day making me pay for it. How you ask? Well, as any loving mother would – exploiting my very obvious hang over by at every opportunity brining up alcohol refrences.

“What’s a 7 letter name for mexican liquor? Oh that’s right! TEQUILA”

Fuck crossword puzzles.

So I took one of my leftover anti-nausea pills from when i was on Percocet, hit the shower, then hit the couch. Slept for probably 4 hours before waking up at 10pm, being awake maybe a half hour, getting bored, then going back to bed for the rest of the night, and most the next day.

It was totally worth it.

It took me right around 10 hours, but I finished it.

I was really surprised, I spent so long avoiding spoilers. But there wasn’t really anything to spoil.

You saw that ending coming since day one.

But it was still uber badass.

Oh! and for the record, My boyfriend (who ditched me to get the book at midnight), I finished before he did, and I got the book at 10:30am the next day.

Well, I’m back from beach week now. I’ll give the rundown.

Day 1: Almost got evicted. Three girls in a motel room, and we almost got evicted. We weren’t even there 5 minutes before the boys upstairs invited us to their party, but did they get evicted? nooo, we have a few friend over for some pong, and we get threatened with eviction. I’ll be honest, I’m a little bitter. Otherwise, we all got drunk and frolicked on the beach. And how do you spell easy? A-M-Y. My dear friend Amy found making friends very easy… She didn’t seem to mind laying over a few boys on the drunk bus and sharing a few kisses.

A typical conversation between her and a new boy would go as follows:

Amy (slurring) “hiiiiii!”

Boy “Hello”

Amy (still slurring) “how are you?”

Boy “good. you been drinking” (as he begins to think he might get lucky)

Amy (giggling and slurring) “you’re cuuute!” *kiss!*

Boy “oohh”

The rest of us “AMY! This is our stop lets GO!”

Amy (sigh) “gosh… BYE BOY!”

Now, just imagine her laying across two boys laps on a bus, or sitting waiting to get on a bus at the bus stop. But it’s alright, She’s still a great party buddy, when she isn’t looking to get raped…

More about about the drunk bus though. Many a times I found myself on the drunk bus, which runs from the inlet at Ocean city all the way to Delaware, at around 3am. You meet the most amusing people. At one point, we were sitting on the bus and across from us were these two boys who had been evicted from their place and frankly had no where to go. Their solution? Ride the bus….all night long. I guess they didn’t really have a choice seeing as it is illegal to sleep on the beach, even though I saw a few people doing so. At least…I think they were sleeping.

This is where Cartman echos in my head about sand in the vagina. Srsly uncomfortable sex, no?

Day 2: the only day I got to spend on the beach. Burnt my legs. Drank and got my ass kicked at pong. Otherwise boring night. Of course, we only got to drink after we got to my friend’s place and she told us no party. We walked for ages and then got turned down. Was not pleased. Then a bunch of my friends passed out on the beach.

Moving on.

Day 3: It was cloudy so no beach but then we went up to my friend’s party way up on 133rd street (we were on 29th – long bus ride). That was a great time. Played some more pong on their ridiculously short table. One guy though, did about 15 beer bongs? Something ridiculous like that. Projectile vomited, then spent at least 2 hours over a trashcan before passing out naked on the toilet. There were pictures, but I wasn’t able to get one with my camera, otherwise I would totally post it. We decided to leave once two more people passed out in the other bathroom so we couldn’t even get the door open.

Day 4: Woke up at like 3pm. Watched Brink, the old Disney movie about inline skating. Did not step out of my motel room till my boyfriend got there. Was very excited. Went back to my friend’s from the night before. Watched my boyfriend dominate at pong. Found out almost everyone watched Brink that day. At one point, I believe I was wearing a tinfoil bra and skirt. Then my friend got really sick, threw up all over my jeans and feet. Again, was NOT pleased. My friend and I had to step in the shower to wash off our feet, of course, the bathroom was in high demand so while he had the water running we were having a conversation with this boy that was going to the bathroom. Good thing we had been drinking, otherwise that might have been awkward. My boyfriend and I left. I don’t remember the bus ride home. I do remember that after I passed out that night for two hours when we got back, I had a darn good time.

Apparently, after we left the police came because some of the friends of the girl that got sick were worried about her, like she had alcohol poisoning or something-hah-but they left, and didn’t warn anyone before the called. Most my friends got $500 citations that well, suck.

Day 5: Went to hooters. I got a tank top. It was awesome. Of course while we were there, my friend went to the bathroom, and there were some guys huffing something and my friend got a whiff of it. He wasn’t right all night. He described it like “it looks like it’s day time…AT NIGHT!” We were a little worried. Went to bed late.

Day 6: got RUDELY woken up by our gay land lord person really early because we missed check out. He gave me a panic attack. Literally couldn’t breath, rapid heart rate, and crying. We had to pack up EVERYTHING in less than 15 minutes while he was yelling at us and threating to have us arrested for trespassing. Not. Cool. Played some mini golf to calm down, then drove home. My friends slept while I drove. The only perk? Cheap gas.

I was so glad to be home.

I’ve decided that beach week is really just all hype with little delivery. Or else, I just didn’t do it right. People keep asking me how my trip was. I’ll be honest, I don’t really want to talk about it.

Oh! and I have a new laptop! yay! =D

I’m headed to the beach today, till Saturday for some under aged drinking, sex, and all around rowdy behavior. This is what we here like to call “beach week.”

As far as what my roomies and I are brining, the list consists of various alcohols including two kinds of rum, vodka, kaluah, tequila, and good ‘ol beer. I don’t know the brands since I’m not the on in charge of the “alternative beverages.” Instead, I’m the driver, which means my ass is on the line if we get pulled over and searched.

On the bright side, I’m not the one packed into the car. Being the driver, I need adequate room to “do mah thing” aka drive. Everyone else is going to be squished into my little honda civic with all the goodies were are bringing.

I can’t wait to rave with some glow sticks, be promiscuous, get a tan (aka burn), and pretty much drink more than I ever thought possible.

I have never gotten sick before. This might be my week. I just hope I take enough pictures so that when I’m black out drunk, I will be able to pretend I remember when I tell my parents what we all did.

I can promise a few good stories.