It's a post about nothing...

Nothing can be a great use of a weekend. Yes, elaborate outings and grand plans are always fun, but I think doing different variations of not a damn thing is a perfectly good way to spend that beloved 2-day hiatus we get. (Shit, even if you don't do a damn thing of note with yourself for that 56 or so hours, hell...you wasn't at work so...) Falling back alone at home can be aightish, but in the company of decent folk, a weekend of pure idle can be almost as good as a vacation. To prove it, I spent the last couple days doing just that. (Shoutout to Geraldine and Ashelee...never thought I'd have that much fun watching the Kardashians lol)

I arrived on campus Saturday afternoon and the first thing I noticed is that I was hungry as shit. I had skipped breakfast for no apparent reason that morning and was told of a nearby Subway. My last experience with Subway was subpar, but fuck it I was hungry...and after reading the big ass sign on the front of the door that said "ANY FOOTLONG SUB $5" in foot high letters and consulting with my angrily growling stomach, a $5 hoagie didn't sound bad. I walked up to the counter where an Indian lady greeted me with a blank stare.

I told her I wanted a chicken, bacon and ranch (best thing they make, point blank period.) and the first thing she said was *drumroll* ...that one wasn't $5, it was 6.50. After a good 45 seconds of thoroughly explaining to the woman the concepts of "any", "all" and "$5", as well as making the '$5 footlong' gestures from the commercial, I gave up and just bought the damn sandwich...the more sense I made, the less English she seemed to know how to speak. (Its funny how that happens with foreign folk sometimes.) I was frustrated and hungry, and I decided that giving this chick a 5 finger faceslap was counterproductive, seeing as if I did that I wouldnt get my food. They got me for $7+ this time, but watch and see...the next time I step foot in a Subway, I'll prolly be buying Fresh Fit meals for my kids. I'm serious about that, fuck y'all.

After that debacle was over, we got to the dorm, and I dicovered that the dorm has some bass ackwards visitation rules. Even though the dorm is co-ed, my body plumbing differing from that of my hostess's meant that under the rules my visit was timed (my best guess is that they don't want outsourced booty coming in all night...but then again it also implies that most intergender visitation is of a sexual nature, a notion I find rather presumptuous...not to mention these rules do nothing to curtail same-sex overnight trysts...not that I personally endorse such, but it is twentyten and some folk are into that...back on topic tho...) and we had to...uh...creatively interpret...the rules...to get the whole thing started. (Thx for the assist, Dave...)

After watching "16 and Pregnant" for a while (its a good show, if only for the pure "damn, I'm glad that ain't me" value...when you can get a TV show just for getting knocked up abnormally early, it's a brave new world) Geraldine told me she hadn't slept in 3 weeks or some such shit and set off on a nap. After being left to my own devices for a while, I remembered that some of those devices could get me blazed. I wasn't tryna get nobody evicted or anything by sparkin inside, so I excused myself to take a walk in the neighborhood. (In retrospect, the "visitors may not re-enter, blah blah blah" sign should have deterred me...but on the other hand, I was bored and sober with the tools to fix both...ay...)

After my constitutional, I returned a few minutes later prolly smelling like "Eau de Ganja" and diddybopped smoothly past the check in counter to make my way back to the room when I was stopped by the attendant, whose name will be Front Desk Bitch from now on. (I don't know or concern myself with her real name, I feel this one fits better anyway.) "Ehh, yoo stay in thees beelding?" she asked me pointedly in a thick island accent of some kind. (I considered telling her I did and just had never been to my room the whole semester because I couldn't find it, but decided that was more trouble than it was worth...) "No..." I said before explaining that I was just a visitor who had went out for a smoke. Unmoved, she replied. "Yoo na allow to leev de preMEsaas widout ya host, who it ees?" This was gonna be harder than necessary.

I came thisclose to slipping up and telling the truth before remembering that officially I was signed in with Dave. I called upstairs to be escorted in by my 'host' but Geraldine showed up with him. Front Desk Bitch smelled a rat, but couldn't prove anything...so she just gave me a suspicious glare before allowing me back in. I thought that was the end of my dealings with Front Desk Bitch for the night, but a little later a liquor run became necessary. (Of course, this meant I had to be signed out again so I could sign back in when I got back a little later...I had begun to start feeling a little like a library book.) As I signed out, Front Desk Bitch cocked her head to the side and put 2 and 2 together.

She took out her metaphorical shiny monitor whistle and blew with every ounce of breath in her lungs. "Yoo are a lyah! Yoo say yoo ah heah wit de man and den you show down heah wid de semm gyal twice na! Do not do eet ah-gain!" Never mind that I didn't know or care about the technicalities of visitation procedures, (or even more than barely understand what the fuck she was saying...what I just typed is what I'm like 74% sure she said...there were many "whats?" from my end of the convo.) far as she was concerned, I had broken the sacred bond between front desk and visitor. She had her eye on me. Sick of hearing her voice, I just hit her with a "yeahAIGHT..." and kept it movin. I did have the faintest worry that she would see me when I came back and call the cops or something, but then again they prolly wouldn't understand her either...

As we returned with margarita materials, I was happy to see that Front Desk Bitch had left to wash out whatever irritant she had in her vaginal area. (I guess that was the problem...I'm not sure, but there had to be some reason she was all pissy, and a urinary tract infection would explain it...just my theory.) Another girl had taken her place, and let me pass with minimal harassment. By that time I was hungry again, so we ordered some pizza, knowing full well that alcohol pretty forces you to eat takeout. I put the order in online, and a lying ass graphic popped up saying that it would be there in half an hour. 3.5 halves of an hour later, the pizza came. Somehow it was still hot...whatever.

(Quick aside about Domino's: isn't it funny how they're so proud they revamped their pizza but now charge more for it? Remember that 5-5-5 deal they used to run? No more...now its $6. Good job Dominos...you basically admitted your pizza sucked by remamking it from the ground up, and then said "this new shit is better, trust us...and could you be a pal and give us an extra dollar too?" That's like Toyota recalling those janky ass cars that keep killing folk and then saying "yeah, we'll fix it...but we're gonna need you to come up off $500 more, somebody has to pay for all that product testing and we chose you. Sry bruh..." Nall...you made it bad, fix it for free, bitch!)

That would be the second restaurant I had put on my shitlist that day. (Even tho, to their credit, the pizza was good...it really is improved...I just dont appreciate being able to watch a whole movie in the time it takes to get a pizza delivered...guess there's a reason they don't do the "30 mins or less" promise anymore.) Some time after that, a few other cool peoples stopped through and we were gonna get to drankin...but we had no ice to make the drinks with. We deliberated for a bit and eventually decided on the "we be aight" approach...the drinks flowed iceless. After 2 it didn't matter. (They charged me with makin the drinks, which means I poured the maximum amount of alcohol allowed by law in each cocktail...since I can't cook, I take pride in my drinkmaking.)

We all sat there and watched some police video show (note to self: if I ever rob a bank, make sure to bring a bag to carry the money so you don't end up dropping it on the ground while trying to carry your gains out the door in your bare hands during your escape.) and talked about stuff I don't really remember but was enthralling at the time. When that was over, it was "let's recite Nicki Minaj lyrics" hour, but I was drunk so I didn't mind too much. After drink 7 I'm not too clear, but I'm pretty sure I just passed out...when I woke up, everybody was gone, including Jose Cuervo, who I invited but am told I personally escorted out of the building. Good times.

The next morning I woke up and it was more of the same...watched some show where people almost killed themselves trying to run up a conveyor belt on stilts and handwalk over gravel to win no cash and fabulous nonprizes while some guy commented on the whole thing in loud, frenzied Japanese, ate some leftover pizza (the great thing about ordering food is it becomes dinner that night, plus breakfast and lunchthe next morning...even dinner again if you're by yourself...), and other general hangoutery. Before I knew it, it was time to go home and get ready for work the next day...my weekend was over. Some people might say I wasted it...I say nothing you can enjoy can ever be a waste. Fuckit, I had fun...when people at work today ask me what I did this weekend, I'm gonna say "nothing"...and I'd do it again in a minute. Here's hoping I have nothing to do with any of you mafuckas...lol...