In all the old familiar places

I dont know what to write anymore. I feel like last semester I had like two or three a day. Two or three a day which Dave read aloud and made hysterical. Two or three a day. I had time for that many. Now I don't. I have more of a work load between class and actual work. Though I wouldn't call this job actual work. I come here and go on my laptop for four hours and then go back to my room and shake an angry fist at how unproductive I am with school work. Even then that doesn't last too long because I go out to dinner and we all chill in the student center for three hours and then I go to the gym or Dave's room (or both), don't do my homework and fall asleep around 3am. Yeah. My life is busy in a plethora of horrible ways. I find it interesing because now, with doing more, I have oober stories to tell, but I dont tell you. I don't share with my readers. I dont give a shit...as much. This is now a breathing ground for boredom; I'm at the gallery with nothing to do. I have to wait another hour to eat lunch and another hour after that to hang artwork. And I'm alone. Karen is out at lunch, Jessica called in sick, Lisa went back to her office and the other ladies wound up going to Harlem. Yeah...they did. Fo serious. And now two more people came in and they're looking at the artwork. Just one by one, brushstroke by brushstroke, color by color. And I dont know what to write anymore. Well, that's a lie. I do have plenty that I could say, but that would mean being truthful and honest and I feel like there are some things in this blog shite that I cannot share with my readers...or whomever is left? Some things are just too personal, too relatable, too jaw-dropping, too foot stomping? I was trying to be gangsta. But wait...I already am.

I do have one funny story to tell ya. Barking drunk people. How much funnier could it get? On the train ride back home (and I mean real home) Karen and I were talking and in the cart behind us, two people started talking loudly and then there was barking. Not from a dog though. From a human male. Yup. A human with a penis...and a beer can in his hand. So for about ten minutes they are loud (and barking) and it stops. Like the dog was Old Yeller and he was taken out back and shot. So us Geminis are chattin' it up all gangsta Suffolk County style, and a man with sunglasses and beer can sits across from us and starts talking to us about dogs in the next cart. He's rambling about how dogs should be free to roam, not in bags like that one in the next cart over is. "Look, it's a dog" he'd say. But neither of us turned our heads to look. Even the ninth time he said it. And this man loved his sunglasses as much as he loves his beer. He asked me if I liked his sunglasses, and being nice I told him, "Yes, where did you get them from?" I just get a blank, drunk stare for about a minute. I dont think he believed me, eh? Either way, I repeated myself and he just looked at me, tilting his head from side to side (like a dog...shocker) and then backward to drink more Bud. This drunken sunglasses beer man starts barking. Surprise! He was the dog! Who woulda thunk? And Karen said that she knew that he was the dog...and I'm pretty sure he was like, "na ah, girrrrrrl" but not really because he did not subject himself to such a level on the train (because drunken barking is, afterall, acceptable). So this dog barks and says that he is not a dog, rather a wolf and points to his beer can. Can we assume that wolves come in 22oz Budweiser Light beer cans? The answer is yes. We can.

More drunken stories. Andrew and Brittany (and Karen and myself) came to Hempstead last night. We did not go to the dance party as planned. Karen was tired and went to bed. I think Andrew and Brittany wanted to dance and be hella flashy but I was hella tired from being up all day and out and about in the city (and battling drunken dogs...I mean, wolves, on the train) so we decided getting drunk would be the better option. We got eight forties, and picked up a six pack of Heinekin for Dave. So Dave met his nemesis Andrew. Andrew met his Spice Girls rival, Dave. Brittany met someone who is over a foot taller than her. Dave met the girl that he thinks is hot. So it was a meeting of my two worlds once again. And these two worlds can only meet when drunk, apparently. Brittany, after one forty, was falling all over the place. Andrew, after two, giggled like a princess at every thing that I said...or he said...or Brittany...or Dave. Dave and I were totally entertained. And I was most def entertained by Dave who was sorta tipsy last night! I can feel it in my bones, it's gonna happen soon. Perhaps I will actually see Dave drunk one day. I think it just might happen. He finished his beer and drank the rest of what I didn't want and was just sleepy, but still kinda tipsy. He stumbled out of my bed and couldn't initially walk in a straight line. And he repeatedly said he hated me. And almost fell asleep, but apparently I'm not good enough, so he left. Shwatevs. I think the best part of the night is when Andrew, Dave and I were chillin' in my room and Britt came back from the bathroom (drunk off her ass) and gave me a hug, gave Dave (that totally rhymes) a hug, then hugged Andrew. And ate his face for about thirty seconds. Then she turned around and almost fell over. My I'm-still-sick-so-I-sound-like-a-cackling-old-lady-witch laugh was kicked into high gear last night and I thought everything was funny. I was not drunk, but I was sleepy and happy to see Andrew and Britt. So fucking sue me.

Any other drunken stories? Not for today. I could talk about Valentine's Day and how it was shoved down my throat...alcohol that is. But no, I won't because I'm tired of typing in this thing about alcohol and porn. Porn, porn, porn, porn, porn. That's all I do. I drink beer and watch porn. And scratch myself, but that's a whole new story that we should discuss at another time. Perhaps later.

It was nice being home, even if it was for two hours. I got to drive around and be a crazy Long Island driver. We are insane and I kinda miss that insanity. I love almost getting rear ended by a truck as I'm trying to merge on the service road. Yummy!

I want lunch.

'cause my kind of love is an ugly love

But it's real and it lasts a long, long time