Grad school blows so much ass. I pretty much can't describe it because it's just too depressing. Actually, I'm just afraid that if I start talking about it, I'll never stop. Suffice to say that I sent a "pity me, I'm too dumb to do grad school" email to poor, long-suffering Zhenya. That man deserves a medal for putting up with my shit even after I've graduated.
So I was totally going to blow off the Halloween party because I hadn't felt like I was going to be in the mood for hanging out with people and I didn't bother to figure out a costume. But by the time I was done being angry at the Harvard application (who am I kidding, really...) I decided that I really just wanted a beer. Or maybe five. And maybe to talk to Meg. So I hopped over to the Halloween party. It was also snowing. And walking in the snow is fun.
Anyway. The party was at City Bar, which is near the American Consulate, and is apparently an excellent place to either meet American soldiers or super obnoxious American ex-pats. There were some super excellent costumes. Evgenii Yurivich was a frat boy (frut boi po-russki), Meg was Princess Leia. A pirate, a gypsy, a vampire slayer, a nerd, and several cats made an appearance, along with one of the Ghostbusters, President Kennedy and Jackie Onassis (featuring Jonathan in drag), and the Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy duo. My disguise was surprise. Whatever. The beer was good, although expensive. Poor awkward Erik was Draco and won quote of the night with: "I can't sit down—I've got a stick in my pants!"
I got a little sloshed and talked a lot with Meg's Russian friend Valya. She's an art historian, and she's super nice. Anyway, we made fun of one of the dudes who pulled up a chair at the other table of American students. He's a Clarkie, but he was really old. He also liked to talk a lot about how well connected he was in Petersburg and how he'd only been there two months and was working illegally, and so on and so on and all about him and how excellent he was. And yes, the phrase "I want his phone number like I want AIDS" may have come out of my mouth. Whatever.
I was about ready to head home and make my obligatory drunk dial. Meg was a little sloshed and said that I should make some certain drunken confessions involving "the L word." I dunno how I feel about all that. I said it once before I left, and I said it once in a voicemail after I had a freaky dream, but I'm not sure that I'm really up to all the rest of it. I have a hard enough time with "I miss you." Because the other person has to say "I miss you too"—otherwise they're an asshole. So there's not really any choice there. It would make me happy if he said it first, but I'm not holding my breath. Mostly because I'd just die.
Uh. Right. So I walked to the metro with AuTumn. Okay. I'm sorry. I have to stop and tell things a little out of order because I found out that AuTumn spells her name with a capital T and this requires a little explanation before I go on with the story. Anyway. Back in the day AuTumn used to be Autumn, but she had a good friend named JoAnn and was super jealous that JoAnn had two capitals in her name. So one day Autumn told her parents that she wanted two capitals in her name. And her parents said okay. And Autumn said, "I think I want to capitalize the T!" And her parents said okay. So Autumn became AuTumn. WFT? What kind of parents let you do something when you're eight that will make you look like an idiot for the rest of your life? Seriously. What. The. Fuck. I mean, on the list of offenses, it's not as grievous as like, I dunno, molesting your kid or something, but making them look like an idiot forever is right up there.
But back to the story. AuTumn had invited a friend of hers to the party. His name is Hank, he's Dutch maybe? and he's been living in Petersburg for a long time, speaks really excellent English, and has a girlfriend. However, he's got to be about the sleaziest motherfucker I've met this side of Reid Allmandinger. And most of you know exactly how much love I have for the Dinger, but for those of you that don't, I'll give you a hint: many long days of torture wouldn't be enough. Anyway, this dude Hank does not give off a real great vibe. For example. As soon as he sat down at our table, everyone except AuTumn turned to Meg with the "Who the fuck is that?" look. Anyway, apparently AuTumn hangs out with this guy a lot and that makes him fine. Whatever. That makes AuTumn dumb and makes her going to get raped or dead because she doesn't have a sketch detector. But whatever. She's twenty eight and doesn't need my advice.
I was accused of only calling while drunk. Which is not true. Only about half the time. Really. And I didn't make an ass of myself or say anything I shouldn't have. Yay! Another awesome day!
So I was totally going to blow off the Halloween party because I hadn't felt like I was going to be in the mood for hanging out with people and I didn't bother to figure out a costume. But by the time I was done being angry at the Harvard application (who am I kidding, really...) I decided that I really just wanted a beer. Or maybe five. And maybe to talk to Meg. So I hopped over to the Halloween party. It was also snowing. And walking in the snow is fun.
Anyway. The party was at City Bar, which is near the American Consulate, and is apparently an excellent place to either meet American soldiers or super obnoxious American ex-pats. There were some super excellent costumes. Evgenii Yurivich was a frat boy (frut boi po-russki), Meg was Princess Leia. A pirate, a gypsy, a vampire slayer, a nerd, and several cats made an appearance, along with one of the Ghostbusters, President Kennedy and Jackie Onassis (featuring Jonathan in drag), and the Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy duo. My disguise was surprise. Whatever. The beer was good, although expensive. Poor awkward Erik was Draco and won quote of the night with: "I can't sit down—I've got a stick in my pants!"
I got a little sloshed and talked a lot with Meg's Russian friend Valya. She's an art historian, and she's super nice. Anyway, we made fun of one of the dudes who pulled up a chair at the other table of American students. He's a Clarkie, but he was really old. He also liked to talk a lot about how well connected he was in Petersburg and how he'd only been there two months and was working illegally, and so on and so on and all about him and how excellent he was. And yes, the phrase "I want his phone number like I want AIDS" may have come out of my mouth. Whatever.
I was about ready to head home and make my obligatory drunk dial. Meg was a little sloshed and said that I should make some certain drunken confessions involving "the L word." I dunno how I feel about all that. I said it once before I left, and I said it once in a voicemail after I had a freaky dream, but I'm not sure that I'm really up to all the rest of it. I have a hard enough time with "I miss you." Because the other person has to say "I miss you too"—otherwise they're an asshole. So there's not really any choice there. It would make me happy if he said it first, but I'm not holding my breath. Mostly because I'd just die.
Uh. Right. So I walked to the metro with AuTumn. Okay. I'm sorry. I have to stop and tell things a little out of order because I found out that AuTumn spells her name with a capital T and this requires a little explanation before I go on with the story. Anyway. Back in the day AuTumn used to be Autumn, but she had a good friend named JoAnn and was super jealous that JoAnn had two capitals in her name. So one day Autumn told her parents that she wanted two capitals in her name. And her parents said okay. And Autumn said, "I think I want to capitalize the T!" And her parents said okay. So Autumn became AuTumn. WFT? What kind of parents let you do something when you're eight that will make you look like an idiot for the rest of your life? Seriously. What. The. Fuck. I mean, on the list of offenses, it's not as grievous as like, I dunno, molesting your kid or something, but making them look like an idiot forever is right up there.
But back to the story. AuTumn had invited a friend of hers to the party. His name is Hank, he's Dutch maybe? and he's been living in Petersburg for a long time, speaks really excellent English, and has a girlfriend. However, he's got to be about the sleaziest motherfucker I've met this side of Reid Allmandinger. And most of you know exactly how much love I have for the Dinger, but for those of you that don't, I'll give you a hint: many long days of torture wouldn't be enough. Anyway, this dude Hank does not give off a real great vibe. For example. As soon as he sat down at our table, everyone except AuTumn turned to Meg with the "Who the fuck is that?" look. Anyway, apparently AuTumn hangs out with this guy a lot and that makes him fine. Whatever. That makes AuTumn dumb and makes her going to get raped or dead because she doesn't have a sketch detector. But whatever. She's twenty eight and doesn't need my advice.
I was accused of only calling while drunk. Which is not true. Only about half the time. Really. And I didn't make an ass of myself or say anything I shouldn't have. Yay! Another awesome day!
posted by hillary at 9:13 AM
1 Comments:
Hey Hillary, it's okay to come out of the closet (didn't you know that "the L word" is a sit-com about lesbians on SHOwtime? And damn, I'm a horrible person for knowing that). We'll all still harbor the same feelings towards you as always.
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