Weekend Warrior

I am, quite possibly, the lamest college student ever. But if I am enjoying myself, am I still lame? 


Thursday night usually consists of watching the Jersey Shore with a few of my friends who are weirdly obsessed with it. All are rather large, manly men, who one could possibly classify as "hipster" (though they would punch you in the gut if you called them a hipster). One is a lumberjack and one wears a bandana. Lumberjack and I used to be best friends, but then, like a lot of my friends, he went on a really long bender and wasn't really the same afterwards. Now he looks like a serial killer. Somehow, though, he has a really hot girlfriend, who we'll call Fake Tits McGee. Anyway, God forbid one speaks during the Jersey Shore. Kitten and I joined them a few weeks ago, and were having a quiet conversation during commercials, and they literally kicked us out of the house. Last Thursday, I think we watched the Jersey Shore, but we all accidentally got very drunk, so we may not have watched Jersey Shore at all. We ended up running around in the rain playing ding dong ditch, while the lumberjack laid down in the gutter and pretended he was under a waterfall. Yeah, I don't know.


I skipped that this week and instead had a lovely home cooked meal with Kitten: tuna casserole. She made it without mayonnaise just for me (I have a thing about mayo. It's kind of a phobia. The consistency is so creepy). We enjoyed the tuna casserole with a nice Blue Moon Harvest Ale (my favorite, next to DogFish Head's Punkin' Ale).  


Friday, I was once again pretty lame... my room mate Carrie and I cooked a beef stew type meal with hand chopped sweet potato fries. Yes, we cook a lot. I refuse to live off of ramen and mac and cheese. Then, I proved the fact that I have a vagina and watched Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights, Baby Mama, AND Titanic. And then I went to bed.


Today isn't looking too wild, either. My boyfriend is coming to visit from home. It's a couple hour drive, but when he gets here, we're going to the driving range. There is something so satisfying about just whacking golf balls as hard as you possibly can for no reason at all. Carrie is already at the University football game; she started drinking at nine with her lacrosse team. I am not so ambitious; thus far, I've had two cups of coffee, made some scrambled eggs, and watched VH1's Top 20 Countdown.


I don't think it's THAT lame. I'm fairly content today.