My lack of participating in anything vaguely social over the past two weeks has, not surprisingly, resulted in a CODE RED/SEVERE downturn of blog-worthy material.
So here is an old story for you. You know it's bad when I am resurrecting stories that happened in the late 90s:
I took a drafting class in college, because I liked the professor and had a few credits to waste. The class was populated with a bunch of morons who I couldn't stand, and another girl named Sheri. Sheri and I were, at first, very unsure of each other- maybe even disliked each other. Soon that mutual distrust flowered into Senior Year Friend-Love, mostly because we maintained similar poor attitudes, and our preferred method of time passage was wearing sunglasses indoors and making fun of our classmates. We were graduating, the rest of those protractor-wielding little moppets were underclassmen and therefore still somewhat motivated. (Sidenote: That's it, it's Real World Closet Confessional Time: I miss Sheri, dammit. She was a fun girl. Also, i have pictures of us completely housed together at an unknown restaurant in the Shenandoah Valley. So if you live in Nashville and happen to know a girl named SHERI COYER who is probably still waiting tables with a large african-american woman named Glenice she used to email me stories about, tell her to find me please. Another detail: she's a redhead and bums smokes unapologetically. That might help you to track her down.)
Sheri doesn't really have anything to do with this story, I just have nice little nostalgic flashbacks about Sheri when I drink whiskey, and because she was with me when I heard the following. Neither here nor there.
One of the Morons threw a party on the third floor of an apartment building, those student kind of complexes we all lived in that was built with plywood, pipe cleaners, playdough, scotch tape, and coat hangers. Death traps. A College Housing Diorama built by a second grader as a book report, if you will. Anyways, this party was on the third floor, they had a few kegs, and a lot of peeps were over at the pad, yo. Yada yada. Suddenly, the lights go out. (and when I say lights, I mean the shitty disco things and the Christmas lights that I'm sure were strung through the living room.) The stereo cuts off. OH NO NO MORE PUFFY! There is a mild panic, there is no electricity in the apartment, and that means Johnny Fratboy v1.0 cannot see clearly enough to hone in on his next blonde coed target (Mission: Ass Grope.)
Suddenly, in midst of the chaos, three guys rush to the balcony and hoist the 2 kegs over the edge. The kegs fall, landing next to a WAITING PICKUP TRUCK. The kegs are loaded by accomplices as the thieves rush downstairs and join the getaway truck.
In the middle of a packed party, some geniuses robbed two kegs. In a matter of seconds.
What makes this story truly great are two small details.
1. These guys cut the electricity to the entire building to accomplish the stealing of kegs.
2. This was a birthday party, and as he was running out the door, one of the guys stopped to take a piece of cake off the table.
Granted- the beer would most likely be all sorts of fucked up from being dropped three floors. But really, does that matter?
I submit it does not matter.
* * *
Misc./In the News:
2. Technorati Junction, whats yr Function: Just 3 blogs this morning mentioning an an old high school pal, COUNTLESS mentioning the Triumvirate of Armgeddon: the Simpson-Lachey breakup, the Spears-Fed Video, and the Katie H's impregnantion by demon theton spawn. God bless America: killer of Kennedy, maker of snap bracelets.
(Have I used that snap bracelet reference before? I tend to use it a lot, and it's usually only funny to me. Sigh.)
3. Do you remember that time the Hardy Boyz starred on "Fear Factor?"
4. I wasn't going to mention this until after I actually went through with it, but K. and I are going to take the Mensa test. I'm mostly doing it for blog fodder, but don't think I won't rub it in my family's face should something miraculously come of this. Prepare to see a photo essay or something on the process shortly.
5. I have made a decision; i can never see another stupid comment backnforth about NoVa. Ever. Again. it might kill me. You think i'm joking but i'm not. please don't do this to me. I WILL DIE OF SOMETHING (boredom? apathy? Neither of those are quite what I'm looking for) and you don't really want me to die.
6. Pandiculation (Noun) - Pronunciation: [pæn-di-kyê-'ley-shun]
Definition 1: Stretching the body and extremities when drowsy or tired, usually accompanied by yawning, especially when going to bed or waking.