Wicked Wednesday

Hooray, another story post!  While I was experiencing my "wicked Wednesday" I didn't actually think this story would interest anyone, but being bored at work will make anything seem interesting.  ANYTHING.  But really, I think you'll find this enjoyable.


So Wednesday was a busy day for me.  I got up at 8 as usual (a college student getting up at 8!?  Alert the presses!) and went to class.  Yes of course I showered, you freak, why would you ask that?  Class for 2 hours and 40 minutes, and I was ready for SLEEP again.  Of course, I have work after class so that was a no-no.

Before work I went to Chicago's French Market (in Ogilvie, you really should try it) with my mom to look at all the pastries that we couldn't have if we wanted to keep our girlish figures.  Why must everything BAD for us taste so damn GOOD?  It's a conspiracy I tell you, and I will kill those responsible!

Off-topic, screw people with good metabolisms.  You're making the rest of us look bad.

On-topic, my uncle met us at the market for lunch.  We tried a new crepe/sandwich place that looked pretty good.  I myself had a ham and provolone crepe melt on some kind of wheat crepe.  It tasted pretty good, but I liked my mom's sandwich better.  It was some kind of caprese-thing.  Whatever.

So we finish lunch, and I go into work and begin my 3 hours of worse boredom than class.  I swear, I should keep a train of thought journal from work.  I might get put on watch lists by the FBI, the CIA, and Homeland Security, but the laughs would be worth it.  I'm a temp, and I scan tax returns into the computer system.  One of the full timers came in and asked quite seriously, "Is that ALL you do?  How do you not go insane!?"  I informed him that I was surely already there.

After work I had to rush back to my dorm to get ready for my intramural volleyball game.  The game was at 6:20, and I get off work at 5.  That was barely enough time for me to get back, wolf down a nuked very unhealthy dinner and get on the bus to the gym.  CTA's bus tracker was being a bastard that night, saying 9 minutes and then 4 minutes a second later.  Bastard.

I get to the game, and my entire team remarks upon my new haircut.  Every single one of them.  We start playing, and we're all very nervous because we're facing this team for the second time.  We lost the first time. I rotate into the hitter position eventually (I'm okay, but not great) and my teammates hit the barely right at the top of the net.  I run up to hit it over at the same time as a guy from the other team.  I miraculously manage to tip it just over his fingertips (in your FACE!) and we all celebrate.  Seriously, I pwnt.

During the whole match, there were two guys on the sidelines cheering us on.  I think only one of us had the faintest idea who they were.  By "cheering us on" I mean making really stupid comments that none of us really understood, but which made us laugh anyways.  Seriously, they were hilarious.  I hope they come to all our games from now on.  While I was on the sidelines waiting to be rotated in I was either laughing my ass off or trying to understand what they hell they had just said.

So we win the match (hells yeah, we're awesome) and we all celebrate.  I hit on my male teammates, while the females watch and giggle.  It's fun, trust me.  For some reason unknown to me, I decide to go to the RHA meeting.  I figure that I might win one of the raffles FOR ONCE.  (Did I?  Of course not.)  So really the only positive to going was that I got to see some hot guys.  Honestly, hot guys make anything better.  I'm sure you agree.

After the meeting, a friend of mine (we'll call her B from now on, shall we?  of course we shall, I'm the boss!) asked if I wanted to go to Lalo's with her and a few others.  Me, being naive, agreed.  Who cared that I had to do laundry?  That homework due tomorrow was stupid.  I'm sure I'll get back in time to do it!  After all, it's only 7:30!  We just have to change and go.  I'll be back in my room by 10 at the latest!

How absolutely wrong I was.  I changed in about five minutes, and since I hadn't been expecting to go out I looked like crap.  You don't pack good clothes in your bag when you're going to the gym!  If you do, then go to hell.  So then I hang out with B's clustermates who are FUCKING AWESOME.  We'll call them M and V.  Their friend C came over and she was fun too.  We were watching some show in which the hot guys didn't take their shirts off enough (talk about DISAPPOINTING) and the girls created too much drama.  It must have been about high school.

Nope, apparently it's a show about college cheerleaders.  Fun fact, the cheerleaders at my school get to register for classes early.  That's the only reason I considered becoming one.  Anyways, college cheerleaders.  Apparently male college cheerleaders like to start drama too, cuz one of them witnessed the first lump of drama and ADDED to it.  What a douchebag.  He didn't even have the decency to be barely clothed while doing it.

But the whole time we're watching this show M, V, and I are trying to teach C how to properly handcuff someone.  Why?  I don't fucking know.  For fun!  We wanted her to do it to someone in a sexual manner.  After about a half hour of demonstration and practice she gets quite good.  We all applaud.  I tell her to drop the keys down her cleavage after handcuffing the other person to her.  M and V agree with me.  C asks why, and we all explain that she has to handcuff the other person suggestively.  Honestly C, get with the program.

C refuses to handcuff the first random person to knock on the door and we all lose interest.  Whatever.  By now it's almost 9 and B has JUST gotten ready.  Women, honestly.  Men are so much easier.  We wander around the building gathering up everyone who's supposed to come with us.  Or we try anyways, cuz none of them are ready either!  My hopes of getting my laundry and homework done before I go to sleep tonight are quickly dwindling.

We eventually arrive at Lalo's and promptly get carded.  Ah, the beautiful feeling of youth.  I love it.  We get to our table and C2 (not M & V's friend) orders a margarita.  So does B.  I go with a mojito cuz I've never had one before.  And tequila disgusts me.  Of course I try them anyways.  C2 got a strawberry mango margarita which was delicious!  It was also in a container large enough to bathe a small whale.  Holy shit!  B's margarita was the regular flavor, heavy on the tequila.  YUCK!

B gets halfway through her margarita (same size as C2's) faster than you can say "alcoholic."  First thing she says to me afterwards is, "Kevin, make sure I don't do anything stupid tonight."  Like chugging half a margarita with enough tequila in it to kill a horse?  Gotcha.  Oh fuck, I already failed.

So.  Of course what does B want to do after that?  Partake in the free salsa lessons of course!  Learning complicated dance moves while heavily intoxicated is totally common sense and in no way dangerous.  Really it isn't.  I had more trouble with the moves than she did!  It was hard to pay attention to her, because my feet had a mind of their own.  The instructor said at one point, "You almost just killed me there, that would have been bad."  Sorry miss, I didn't realize your feet were vital organs!

I kid (no, she really said that) I had a ton of fun.  C3 (another one joined us, it was her birthday.  everyone say happy birthday!) and I were partners after we learned all the moves and were putting them together.  We both looked equally confused when we got to the more complicated steps, so at least we matched.

Right at the end the instructor had us switch partners.  I got paired with this older woman who had obviously been salsa dancing for much longer than anyone else at the free lesson.  The instructor says, "Now now, HE'S supposed to be leading!"  I was cool with her leading, but apparently that was her way of saying 'man up.'  FINE!  At least she looked confused by the complicated steps.  It made me feel much better when she performed nearly as badly as I did.  Take THAT!  She didn't appear to enjoy me as a partner nearly as much as the obviously well-off black man she was partnered with before

Finally the dance lesson was done.  I was sweatier than Nixon on television.  I went back to the table and chugged the last of my mojito and started obsessively checking when the next bus would come.  Of course I just missed one, proving that God does in fact hate we gays.  IRREFUTABLE PROOF!  I made a pact to walk home if a bus didn't come before 11, because I was ready to go.  Obviously He Up On High heard my threat to take over hell if there wasn't a bus and quick because one suddenly appeared.

Now let me tell you about this bus.  If you've heard of the 12 bus before you can skip this paragraph.  Anyways, you are almost GUARANTEED to see something ghetto happen on this bus every time or your money back.  Two ghetto things if you're taking it while it's dark.  Sure enough, about halfway into my trip home, a guy (talking about a woman who had just gotten off) says, "No wonder I couldn't move over, look at the ass on her!"  Then he proceeds to talk to his seat-buddy using the N word as filler space.  He wasn't talking intelligently, so just imagine him saying it for every word.  For 10 minutes.  He did not stop saying it.  He was still saying it as I was getting off the bus.

But hey, at least I didn't get shot!  I finally got to my room around 11:30.  After looking forlornly at my massive pile of clothes (oh dear I hope I have clean ones to wear tomorrow) and at my homework (ah feck it, I have time before class tomorrow) I decide to go straight to bed.

-Kevin

P.S. Sorry Mom!  I swear I did the homework!  (but not the laundry yet)