Extremely Loud and Too Close

Have you ever had one of those friends you wonder how exactly you end up hanging out with them because you don't really like them and yet you enjoy hanging out with them because they're totally insane?

This is essentially how my acquaintanceship/ friendship with [slightly pansexual, mostly annoying] works. He awkwards me out, he makes an average situation suddenly far more complicated than it needs to be, and you can't walk down the street without him talking to random passerbys. However, he has fantastic stories about drunkenly driving golf carts into ponds and getting multiple DWIs. I'm not saying he's a good, safe person to be around. But he is... interesting.

A few weeks before school got out, I went to an Eric Hutchinson concert at First Avenue with [save the panzer], his brother, another friend, and [slightly pansexual, mostly annoying]. After the phenomenal show, they decided to get food at a nearby Rainbow store. One of the automatic doors wasn't working and [slightly pansexual, mostly annoying] ran into it. He confusedly followed us into through the exit. He then loudly shouted to the store employees whether the store was open, since the entrance doors were locked. They responded that they were in fact open (which was assumable, as we were standing in the store now) and we slowly gathered our food items.

Now, apparently upon entering the store, one of my classmates was at the checkout and I must have looked right at her. I didn't see her, as I was trying not to die of embarrassment. A week or two later, she asked me if I'd been at that Rainbow lately. At first I was confused and realized what she must have been talking about. "Wait, was I with a really loud guy?" I asked. "Yeah," she replied, "he seemed really drunk." "Oh, he wasn't drunk. He hadn't even had anything to drink yet. You should see him when he's drunk," I assured her astonished expression.

And trust me, I have seen him drunk. This guy is the sort who makes vodka and juice concoctions with so much more vodka than juice the ice cubes go glassy and clear. He was pretty wasted on [save the panzer]'s birthday. So much so that he started humping a vace-shaped sculpture on Nicollet Mall. So, sorry, people of Minneapolis, if this man has been responsible for making your average night strange and uncomfortable. I am not responsible - he is a fully grown man who is entirely capable of following his own guidance. And it is a free country. Why he continues to hang out with younger people, I don't know. I actually don't know how old he is; he jokingly told the cab driver on [save the panzer]'s birthday that he was 45. His age and/or birth year are not on Facebook so doing the math to figure it out is no good. Doesn't matter. He could be from the 51st century for all I know.

That would be rather awkward.

Much like this photo.

Yeah, that pretty much says it all. Me laughing and crying at the same time. Accurate.

Of Surf and Sunburn

I am back from Florida, slightly sunburned, slightly sick (caught a cold while there or while in the airport; yay), and already longing to go back to the ocean. OH MY GOD WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME IT'S JUST AS ROMANTICALLY SPECTACULAR AS I'D ALWAYS DREAMED?! If you can't tell, I am very happy to have finally been IN the ocean. Not seeing it in the lagoon in Venice; not touching the North Sea in St. Andrews, Scotland. But being TOTALLY SUBMERGED in salty, powerful waves in the Atlantic. If you live in Florida, and don't go to the beach, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?

Oh, wait, that's [uber gay]. Sorry about that, mate. (Really, when he went with us to the beach while he was there, it was only the third time he'd done for something that didn't involve gathering meteorological data).

Other than frolicking on the beach, collecting shells and having the most relaxing vacation of my life, I learned four very interesting things about the Sunshine State:

1) There are lizards everywhere. Seriously. They are more abundant than pigeons in Venice. These little geckos skitter across the concrete aimlessly and reside in every palm grove (and every time they rustle in the foliage, I was certain that a velociraptor was going to tear through the trees - because I've never seen forests like what Florida has except in Jurassic Park. Thus the fear of dinosaurs).

2) Sand gets fucking everywhere. Enough said.

3) One cannot buy alcohol while in the presence of under-aged people in a Walmart in Melbourne, FL (because they immediately assume that you are buying it for them, even when they say they are not going to drink it and that the ARE under-aged and are not trying to buy it illegally). I found this the hard way and then went on a diatribe about the stupidity of liquor laws in the United States and vowed to move to Britain in the parking lot of said Walmart (but you know, it's not really a trip to Walmart if I don't have a bitchfest in the parking lot afterwards). This is like the third time I've had trouble buying alcohol legally in my own country; what's with this?

4) Florida is fucking weird. Seriously, if the strange animals and plants and jellyfish suicides (we saw tiny dead jellies on the beach. It was unsettling) weren't enough, Florida people are... different. They are insane drivers. They have an accent that sounds like a blend of surfer and Southern. And they're... well, they're kind of racist. When students openly complain about the "stupid Saudis" that are terrible drivers that knock down light poles... well, I can tell I'm not in Minnesota anymore. Guess I take for granted that racism isn't as blatant up north. Florida is a totally different world.

[Львица] and me at the beach

But I finally saw the sea! I swam in it! I drank mead at an Irish restaurant! Great success and finally a college spring break trip. Brilliant. Life tiles made :D

Why I Sucked At Being a Teenager

Somewhere, upstairs, God is laughing at me.

He has a right too. My exploits Friday night seem more like the plot of a teen comedy or an SNL skit than ordinary life. But it happened... oh, how it happened.

[mind ninja] decided to host a drinking game party at her house after the success of our holiday party. Originally, we were going to have her house to ourselves (her parents were going to be out of town for a hockey tournament) and she planned on playing a drinking game to Lord of the Rings. Except nothing went as planned.

[mind ninja]'s family didn't leave town - the hockey tournament got cancelled - and in fact, they ended up hosting a pizza dinner for the hockey team, who didn't leave until around 9 pm. [mind ninja] hadn't gotten the alcohol and wanted [foxy lady] or me to get it. But both of our IDs were invalid because we hadn't gotten the chance to update them since our birthdays were only a month and half or so past. Just as well - it's one thing getting alcohol for my own party. It feels wrong to buy it for someone else's. I just didn't feel comfortable doing it - but I didn't want to say that to [mind ninja]. It seemed like betrayal.

Mostly, though, I was peeved at the United States government. Seriously, I bought alcohol in a grocery store in St. Andrews, Scotland. I was able to bring it back in my luggage. But I can't buy one single drink in an American liquor store because I didn't request to have my ID updated three weeks before my birthday (because, apparently, you can do that, which I did not know. Nor does the Minnesota State driving guide book give any such helpful tips). So, American youths about to turn 21 - your ID expires DAY OF your birthday, apparently. You can still buy drinks with it (and confuse bartenders who can do math) but you can't buy anything from a liquor store. Sad day for me, walking into a liquor store for the first time without my parents and leaving empty handed and feeling like I'm about twelve. Fuck you, United States drinking laws - I behaved myself all those years and can count on one hand the number of times I drank under the age limit. And this is how you reward me. Thanks. See if I ever take your laws seriously again. (Just kidding, US Gov't... I have no plans on becoming a criminal or a traitor. Please don't put me on the no-fly list).

[mind ninja] and [Львица] were able to convince [novel killer]'s parents to buy alcohol after our epic fail. We ended up with way too much for the small group we had and somehow managed to sneak it into the house. I felt giddy about it, like a rebel, doing something dangerous (despite the fact that I was drinking legally). It was probably an experience many people my age had five or six years ago, back when they were still in high school. And I was just now experiencing it - as a legal drinker. When most kids were drinking in high school, I was staying at home, reading Jane Eyre, and watching The Daily Show. When they were having their first experiences being drunk, I was going to the movies, staying home with my parents and learning about my dad's experiences as a bartender. And while they drove home drunk in the wee hours of the morning, I was sleeping. I've never have been much of a night owl.

Even the Gleeks have party hard in high school... and they're supposed to be the un-coolest people in school (which reminds, me, I should blog about Glee). Not that I should be comparing my life to fictional TV, but this stung a bit. Apparently, I am so uncool the uncool people think I'm uncool. Think about it...

And now, it's not so much like I'm trying to play catch-up; I don't care about not having those experiences. Not exactly that I don't care but that I just had no desire to do that sort of stuff in high school and that not experiencing it was, well, no terrible loss. It's just that now, now that my friends and I want to have a party with drinks, now that we feel like it's something we're comfortable with, now that we're practically legal or are legal, it feels weird being in these situations. Wondering how the hell sixteen year olds got alcohol when we can't even buy it when we're 21. Trying to fathom how they got a whole case of beer in the house with no one noticing. Wondering how they actually felt like getting drunk because, after all that work, we all only had about one to three drinks apiece.

http://www.cartoonstock.com

Oh, things I missed being a non-stereotypical sort of teenager... I don't regret it, I don't miss not having these experiences. It just leave a whole lot of things to be wondered for me. Also I never got invited to parties... so, yeah. There's that. Personally, I think having these firsts now is incredibly more entertaining for myself. I'm more comfortable with who I am, I'm more ready to try new things. I'm doing it because I want to do it - not because of peer pressure, or to fit in, or anything. And there's that added benefit of comedic tension at out attempts to have these experiences now. Now that we're the anomalies for not doing this years ago.

Really, it's not so much that I sucked at being a teenager. I just sucked at living up to the stereotypes of the American teenager - which is a rebellion in itself, isn't it?

Ooh, we've got a badass over here... :P

The Party

It's been a rough start to the New Year, what with the wisdom teeth removal and all. So by the time our  friends' holiday party rolled around on Wednesday, the one that caused all the trouble before the semester ended, I was kind of worried about it. I mean, any of a number of things could have gone wrong.

Amazingly, nothing did. [Львица] and I decorated our apartment rather majestically, I think, even giving Mo the cat a little pink bow. We cooked for half the day (wondrous Alaskan salmon and halibut, and chicken broccoli alfredo for those peculiar people who don't like fish) and had ample time left to set up ambiance music, rearrange chairs, and mock our friends for not being on time.

Things were perhaps a little hard to ease into at first, with offering drinks and trying to get people to decide whether they were hungry or not (our friends are historically indecisive). But once dinner had been served and drinks refilled and Secret Santa gifts were opened, things began to feel much more comfortable and relaxed to me. I was fortunate enough to have [shortage of perfect breasts] as my Secret Santa, the only other person there, other than [Львица], who could possibly know about or understand my obsession with Torchwood. So I was blown away by and totally grateful for her gift - a downloaded and burned DVD of Friday Night Project hosted by John Barrowman, and a home-knitted pillow (made by [shortage of perfect breasts] herself) with the Torchwood logo on one side and my first initial on the other. It's the best Secret Santa gift I've ever gotten. I wish I knew how to show her how thankful I am, without seeming ridiculous. It's a rather wibbly-wobbly line, that.


I managed to talk to [X] and [novel killer] without any apparent weirdness (but by that time, I'd already several drinks). I assured [X] that I was totally over [No-Mr-Darcy] and she informed me that it was just as well, as he believes that a woman's place is in the kitchen (it, of course, no longer matters, if he really thinks that, but it's just as well things didn't work out because, if it's true, I probably would have beaten him up). I tried tequila - bizarre, not my favorite, but not bad. I felt closer to my friends then than I had in years. I suddenly had high, high hopes that I was going to be able to move on from all of the things that had been bothering me about my friendships, that if we'd been able to hang on this long, that maybe we could forge ahead into the future. That even thought sometimes we have our issues, that they treat me better and understand me more than the rest of the world. There wasn't any peer pressure to drink and I didn't drink too much and I felt comfortably tipsy. All was good.

Perhaps I was seeing the world through rosy-colored lenses (or maybe liquor-tinted ones. I did have two glasses of wine, a Guinness, a shot of tequila, and a Heineken. Far more than I have ever drunk before - and yet I wasn't drunk; have I inherited my father's liver?) Everything seemed beautiful and I had no worries. I felt beautiful, important; nothing hurt.

I wish all nights could be like this one; I know they can't - later in the week would prove this true. But this night - this one night - made me feel better than I had in days. Maybe weeks. It didn't last but it's a positive sign for me - a sign that when I finally get those cruel little voices in my head to shut up, life is good. No negative self-thoughts - that was a New Year's resolution, after all :)

Another Night at the Saloon

http://www.esquire.com/drinks/cosmopolitan-drink-recipe

Last night was another excursion to the Saloon and was also my first time at a club as a 21 year old. So, because it was a total life tile opportunity, I got a cosmopolitan, which I'd never had before, kindly paid for by [Львица]. It was really quite good. I'd still drink a martini first, but if I was in the mood for something sweet - yeah, definitely would go for a cosmo. It was also two-for-one so I ended up with two cosmos. And then [save the panzer]'s friend - who seems to think he's his boyfriend - [slightly pansexual, mostly annoying] insisted on buying me a drink. And because I don't want to pass up a free drink, especially from a man, especially because [slightly pansexual, mostly annoying] wouldn't take no for an answer, especially because I wanted to try something I'd never had before - an Orgasm (okay, wow, I just wrote that and out of context that sounds REALLY funny. I just meant the drink, guys), I consented (poor word choice. Now I'm just digging a hole... dammit). So I ended up with what were supposed to be two Orgasms. Except that [Львица] is taking bar-tending classes. And she knows what's supposed to be in the drinks. An Orgasm is supposed to contain Bailey's Irish Cream. There was no Bailey's in sight. In fact, it looked more like Sex on the Beach  (I'm thinking I tasted peach schnapps in it... there was hit of something like that in there).

http://jomygoodness.typepad.com/jomygoodness/2009/05/index.html

It did kind of look like that. It was also pretty... sweet. And way too much alcohol for little ole me. So I ditched the drinks, trying not to think too hard about whether [slightly pansexual, mostly annoying] changed the drink orders on purpose or because he was totally smashed, and went to go dance, and had my dance moves critiqued by a man I'd seen there before (the same one who complemented me on my sparkly dress. No fancy dress last night for me - it was too damn cold. So just jeans and a shirt). I think my dancing makes gay men cringe. Awesome.

In other major events, [Львица] got hit on by a Russian man. I realized that alcohol makes me care less about sucking at dancing. We all tried not to get forever embarrassed by [slightly pansexual, mostly annoying]. Yet another great night out :D

Also, I would just like to say that LMAO's "Sexy and I Know It" is the best dance song ever. Just because of reasons. It's ridiculous. And fabulous.

21

It's happened... I'm officially 21 years old. It's incredible. Actually, yesterday was just incredible in general. Here's the basic run-down of my big, fat twenty-first birthday:

Around eleven o'clock, I started getting ready for my parents to come pick me up. I got a phone call from [X], with [the artist] yelling in the background, both wishing me a happy day. It was a slightly awkward conversation because I got the feeling [X] didn't quite know what to say, but I didn't care - I was glad she called. Then I realized it was snowing - oh, joy of joys! - and my hopes and dreams and prayers for snow on my birthday were answered. Except that I think maybe I'd been hoping a little too much... we got quite a bit more snow than I was expecting. But win - total win!

Due to the sudden onslaught of snow, my parents were a little later than expected, but no matter. We headed over to Brit's Pub, where I had two Strongbows, talked way too much about Scotland, and ate Scotch eggs. Then we ambled over to The Local, had Irish coffee and fish and chips (and got carded - for the first and last time of the day. I was rather shocked. Only one out of three waitresses thought I looked younger than 21? I was surprised. "Are you telling me that I could have tried this long ago and not gotten carded?" I asked my dad. "Probably," he replied. "I can tell by body language - waitresses always treat you like you're older." I must admit this was a bit anti-climatic. Oh well.) Then we crossed the street to The Newsroom, which used to have really good food, but now it was just kind of mediocre. My crab mac and cheese was far too salty. And I made myself content with water because my mom ordered a margarita, didn't even like how it was mixed and discovered it was $11. Shit.

So, to make up for that blip, we went to O'Donnovans, another Irish pub, had another Irish coffee and got free samples of this cake-flavored vodka by Three Olives. Now, flavored vodka always kind of sounded gross to me. BUT THIS WAS FANTASTIC. Mixed with pineapple juice and amaretto, it made this drink that tasted like pineapple upside-down cake. It was really brilliant. So my dad ordered a drink called coffee cake, that included the flavored vodka, Bailey's Irish cream, and coffee (and whipped cream. Absolutely has to have whipped cream). The bartender accidentally made a shot as well, so we got two drinks for the price of one and shared them. My dad then told the girls doing the promoting that it was my birthday, so I got my picture taken with them and a free tiara, which I then proceeded to wear until we left the bar, when I decided that I was tired and a total light-weight and it was time to go home. So home I went to discover what present my parents had bought me (a gift set of two shot glasses and Jameson Irish whiskey - for the win :D ) and to watch SNL (and a brilliant performance by Florence + The Machine) with [Львица].

Sadly I had a stomach ache for most of the night and a better part of this morning (too much food, too much alcohol, too much sweet stuff, too much fun) but other than that it was absolutely perfect. It was the best birthday ever. And it's made me feel that things are only going to get better from here. Thanks to everyone for their warm birthday wishes and gifts - the kindness and generosity I saw made me all warm and fuzzy and felt so loved. I have the best friends and family in the world :)

SURPRISE!!!!

I love surprises. Absolutely love them. So when I came home from class on Thursday to find this box sitting on the table, I was giddy with delight.

Cupcakes!!!!! From the cafe Cupcake no less. I was sooooo happy. However, I soon realized that this was just the beginning of the gift finding. I walked into my room and was face-to-face with this:

There was a card with it, with a wonderfully sweet message from [Львица]. I began getting paranoid that something was going to jump out at me. So I looked in my closet and found this:

Cute t-shirt for the win! And then I closed the closet door to find this:

A Guinness poster - from Ireland! [Львица]'s father bought it there years ago and bequeathed it me. I owe you one, sir - I absolutely adore this. I thought that was it. Until I walked into the kitchen and found this on the fridge:

And then...

GUINNESS!!!!!!!!!!

My life was made - cupcakes, ample attractive pictures of the lovely John Barrowman, and Guinness. There is truly nothing more I need in life. Except that [Львица] seemed to disagree. Because as we were going out to dinner, I found two gift cards (and two more John Barrowman pics) taped to my coat and scarf - one for a cafe, one for a ice cream shop. Seriously, could it get better?

It did. I got gnocchi and calamari at Buca Di Beppos, had my first experience with restaurant waiters singing a birthday song to me (I felt so special!!!!). And when I got home, I nearly died laughing to find that I'd been carrying another gift in my purse the entire time - a mustache flask :D It was fantastic.

And then I found the last Guinness hiding in the medicine cabinet (the other had been with Mo's food and I'd discovered it before we went to dinner). Note to self - [Львица] is EXTREMELY GOOD at surprises and hiding things. It was a totally victory on her part and I much appreciate it. Thank you so much, m'dear - it really means a lot to me :)

It's not even my birthday yet and things are already fantastic. Looking forward to tomorrow - dinner with my parents and my first drink in an American bar. Epic win :D

The Dangers of Tequila

I love this too much not to share it:

10 Days

[Львица] kindly reminded me today that it's only 10 days until my 21st birthday. Which I knew, but hadn't consciously been cognizant of. Which is a fancy way of saying, Holy fuck, it's nearly my birthday and I've been so busy trying not to think about it and get ridiculously over excited that I actually kind of forgot for a moment.

So yeah. 21 on November 19th. It's gonna be THE SHIT. Finally I can legally drink. Finally I can have that Guinness I've been longing to have at a pub ever since I left part of my soul in Glasgow. And finally, I can stop worrying about what people have got planned for me. Seriously, last year I got a secret cake and an epic Ewan McGregor card and a Trainspotting poster. It was pretty much ridiculously awesome. Today, I had to wait outside the apartment while [Львица] was telling her father about... whatever the gift is. And now I'm insanely curious. 10 days. And all shall be revealed.

I bet Mo the cat got me tuna. :D

Pissed

I saw this on "the Twitter": Scots ban on supermarket alcohol deals come into force
.... *sigh*...

Just... *sigh*...


I am aware that Scotland has issues with their drinking culture. I am also aware that much of Britain, Ireland, Russia, parts of America - the list goes on, I'm sure - also has various such issues.

But my personal interaction with drinking in Scotland has been... well, memorable.

Story #1:
[X] kept getting pissed off (by which I mean angry) whenever she would get carded (or passported, technically) in Glasgow pubs. I was actually kind of thrilled. Yes, it means that they have reason to doubt we were under 18 when we were actually 20. And probably because she assumes that alcohol is loosely handed out in Scotland (see above article for why this is NOT EXACTLY TRUE).  BUT being carded is part of being an adult. Yay for what's going to happen to me every time I order a drink until my hair turns grey!

Story #2
It was our last full night in Edinburgh and we were watching a Manchester United versus Barcelona soccer - I mean football - I mean calcio - I mean that sport where they kick that black-and-white ball around - in the pub in the basement of our hostel. I was hanging out with [No-Mr-Darcy] and [bromandawg] while [X] was drinking way too much hard cider with [one-complicated-lesbian] upstairs. It was rather noisy as some DJ started playing weird electronic music after the game ended so the three of us headed out to the patio to get some fresh air and to hear ourselves think. Outside was a group of British chaps dressed in hunting gear. Ridiculous turn-of-the-century clothes and false mustaches and such. And one guy was dressed like a stereotype of an Italian chef. Now, let me set this up properly. They were staying in the hostel as well, as [X] and I had seen them at breakfast, eating their beans and toast and eggs and usual English/Scottish breakfast fare. Except that they were accompanying their meals with gin and tonics. Solid. By this point in the evening, they were totally hammered. One man in hunting gear started insulting some woman who came outside, calling her a fat cow. She started yelling insults back. Then he... *ahem*... revealed himself to her. She was flabbergasted and returned inside. Til this point, the man had had his back to me. But he continued to keep his crown jewels out in the open, displaying them for the world. I saw them in all their glory as he announced, "You know what I love... is that my bollocks are so pure." [bromandawg] and [No-Mr-Darcy] were embarrassed beyond belief and tried to over-chivalrously apologize. Meanwhile, I was trying not to die laughing. Needless to say it was a bit awkward when I saw him in the breakfast line the next morning. Perhaps God took mercy on him and he didn't remember a thing.

But for every humorous story like that, there's twenty more like this...

A little something for a cold, rainy day...

After rain, comes the rainbow. And I know exactly what's at the end of it...

For the win :D

Craig Ferguson, I love you

I once again spent my night in a place I wouldn't exactly consider my scene - a casino. But not for gambling, no, not for that. Instead, I saw a comedy show featuring Craig Ferguson, a FANTASTIC Scottish comedian who hosts "The Late Late Show" on CBS and was on 'The Drew Carey Show." It was basically a dream come true, as I have been dying to see him since about... oh, junior year of high school? I have long believed that he is the funniest man in the universe. And this show reaffirmed this belief.

The show opened with a guy named Randy Kagan, who was super funny. Not as funny as Craig, but still fantastic in his own right. Then Craig Ferguson... ah, Craig Ferguson. If you can survive a rough Glaswegian childhood and alcoholism and still be this goddamn happy and funny, then you, my friend, are AMAZING. I just don't know how he does it. He starts off with a topic, then goes off on this tangent and, by the end of the show, he's back to where he started. It's incredible. And you're laughing so hard the entire time your sides ache. This guy can tell you a story about drinking 12 pints of Guinness and then taking acid and, while being completely honest about the situation, still make it humorous without sugar coating anything. I've heard comedy called tragedy plus someone that's not you, but I think maybe there's something a little bit deeper than that to really good humor. Something more sincere and emotional.

But whatever, I'm getting way too Oprah here. The point is, I had a not-so-great week. I kept feeling clumsy and exhausted and insecure and finally, FINALLY I feel good again. Somewhere between the jokes about Hitler having a nice ass because of goose-stepping and the bits about how Ren Fests aren't authentic because people have all of their teeth, all the little petty things that bothered me throughout the week evaporated. I'm laughing too hard at Canadian jokes and Craig Ferguson playfully making fun of himself that suddenly, nothing else matters. Douchey landlord? Bah. Awkward social life? Whatever. Being mostly unemployed and having no idea what to do with my life? Not important. Craig Ferguson making me laugh so hard I'm crying? NOTHING ELSE  MATTERS.

That's right, bitch - I know I'm funny

Humor for the win. I highly recommend watching this guy. Like, right now. Get off this blog watch him on Youtube, and laugh your ass off. And if you don't laugh... well, I can't help you there. But tell you what - I'll give you two videos for the price of one: one of my old favs and a random one I just came across. Not the same as seeing him live. But it'll do, it'll do.

For a friend on the day of their major declaration

[Львица], this one's for you. Congratulations :D

Blame it on the alcohol - but it's still you talking

So this started as another night sitting on the bloggisphere, unable to sleep. Maybe that's because on every street corner in Dinkytown, there's a party and I could here the music from across the street blasting in my windows (or, as I recently learned, it's called something that sounded like demo wave or d-funk... I don't know, it was late at night and the guy I was talking to was really drunk).

Living in a new part of campus has highlighted a completely different lifestyle - partying. Yes, I have been aware of college partying - I go to a Big Ten school, after all. I've just never been one. Being a junior in college and having not been to a big party is, I suppose, a bit odd in my case. But I've never been a party girl, I've never been overtly interested. I've never been invited to one. But [Львица] got invited to a 21st birthday bash for someone she went to Europe with. And, being the most genial of roommates, she invited me along.

There's an element to drinking that reminds me of something we talked about in psychology, about hypnotism of all things. Some people are more open, more receptive to hypnosis. Others aren't. Drinking seems to be in some ways similar to that, playing a great deal off of your mental state. If you want to get hammered, you probably will. If you don't want to get drunk, you won't. OBVIOUSLY how much you drink impacts this, but there's something more than just the amount but also the mindset. Some people can drink three shots and be fine but drink three shots again on a different night at another party and be totally wasted (and this doesn't have anything to do with amount of food eaten and generally physical things). There seems to be a big mental part. Of course, I'm being a total armchair theorist, which my psych professors would HATE but I don't have time to do research right now. Just go with an idea for now and we'll worry about "facts" and "data" at another time.