Abortion

I was going through some of my favorite blogs and came upon Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter's post about abortion. Personally, I'm pro-choice, but I don't know if I would have an abortion if I were to get pregnant before I wanted to. I think that those who are against abortion aren't being very realistic, and out of all the facts that these people bring up, they never ask: Wait, since I'm so against Jane Doe aborting this child, I'm going to take care of it for the rest of my life, right? Never. Not once. Yes, it's easy for me to sit back and cluck my tongue and shout "Baby Killer!" to a woman who chooses to abort. But, what if that child is born? Into an unloving home? Where the parent (s) weren't ready for a child and mistreat it? Is the child better off? I just wish people would ask themselves this before they make judgments. It's easy to say what you would or wouldn't do when you're not the one that has to make that decision.

Another thing, why are our politicians (almost all of them are men) having a say in this anyway? Once again, who in the hell has to push out this child? Whose body is at risk when it spews forth another human being? The politicians? Nah. The woman who has to look herself in the mirror everyday with the fact that she did or didn't abort her child. I know this is a very controversial topic, but I stand firm: Let the mother decide. Case and point.

Saved Sinners, Pt. 3

Okay, sorry for the delay in the third Saved Sinners episode.

As I was saying, they successfully fucked with my peace of mind. The next day, I woke up, went to my 9 a.m. class, barely concentrated (it felt like I floated through it) and then went to the Union and sat down. I couldn't figure out why in the hell I had so much time on my hands. Shrugging it off, I went back to my dorms and caught up on some much need sleep. Later on that day, I went to another class and then went to the office to use the printer. My boss comes out, and looks at me like I'm crazy.

"Hey College Chronicler," she says, staring, "is everything okay?"
"Huh?" I asked, confused. Damn, did everyone know that I had been royally screwed?
"Yeah...you didn't show up for work today and you didn't call..." She looked at me expectantly.
"What are you talking about?," I said, genuinely confused. "Today's Thursday and...." My sentenced died in the Land of Duh. During all of that free time I had slept through, I was supposed to be at work! "OH MY GOD!!!" I exclaimed. I actually think I frightened my hard-core boss. I was blown the fuck away! I, College Chronicler, had forgotten to go to work. That is some shit that doesn't even happen to the black people I know. Forgetting to go to work is like....something you would see in a movie or something, but I don't know 1 person from the Motherland that has forgotten to get to work...it's like a sin or something. Ahhhh!!!

After I had a pyschotic episode in the office (my boss slowly began to back away) I raced home and called my grandmother (who, by the way, is cool as hell). She, too, was shocked that I had FORGOTTEN to go to work, but she also thought it was funny as hell. I was not amused. Yes, these girls had disappointed me, hurt my feelings, ect. That's all fine and dandy. But they had fucked with my money! While I screamed and ranted to no one in particular, I received a text message from Instigator. Just to let you know, we'll be meeting in the lobby at such and such time. What? They still thought that I was going to the damn party with them? I text her back, Thanks, but I won't be able to make it. She sent me one back, Okay...

I took a deep breath and began to meditate. Suddenly, my phone rang. It was another black girl, a friend of ours.

Friend: Why you ain't going to the party tomorrow?
Me: Because me and the other girls had a disagreement.
Friend: What disagreement?
Me: They apparently have a clique, and I'm not willing to be apart of one, so I'm not going to go.

Now Readers, instinct told me that girls run in packs. Kind of like dogs. And we like drama. So, I was going to watch what I said. They were the enemy, and I wasn't going to give them anything to turn it around.

I added as cheerfully as I could muster: Hope there's no hard feelings, though. You guys have a good time.
Friend (sighing): Alright, well...don't be a stranger.
Me (fake laughing): I won't, promise.


Like clockwork, about 10 minutes later, Instigator, Bible Thumper, and Attitude were knocking at my door. Apparently, the good ole Friend had me on speaker phone (without me knowing).

Attitude: Hey, I heard what you said and I just wanted to apologize.

That's right, Readers, they began to apologize. The excuses ranged from "No, no, we really don't want to think of ourselves as a clique" to teary-eyed Bible Thumper's "Honestly, I don't want to lose any friends over something like this...". I listened, nodded when appropriate, and allowed them to feel like they were making a difference. But in my mind, they had been reduced to acquaintances. People that I spoke to in passing (and later on, participated in some of my film assignments). I had no more love for them. After all, Mama always said, "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me."

Attention

Attention Shoppers:

I'M BACK (WITH GOODIES A.K.A. MORE STORIES)!!!

Also, the Cream of Wheat is on sale....check out Aisle 9 for super savings today!


That is all.

Love,
College Chronicler

MIA for a few days

Hey Readers,

Oops, forgot to tell you that I'll be in the South for a few days. I know, I know. You don't have to all weep at once...I'll be back God willing, I promise! Sorry to keep you waiting on the 3rd part of Saved Sinners!!!


xoxo,
College Chronicler

Feeling Inadequate....

Wow. You know, I've never claimed to be a Sex Diva or anything, but reading Over Educated Nympho's "A Proper Threesome Takes Nine Courses" has caused me to re-evaluate my sex life. Whoa. I think I need to go lie down....

The Saved Sinners, Pt. 2

As I was saying before, they only wanted to roast me in person.

I met up with them in the lobby of our dorms and we laughed, played nice and made our way to the mall. Our mission was to find skanky outfits for a major party that was happening the next night. During the bus trip there, I sat quietly and listened to them giggle and talk about this and that (complete nonsense), not wanting to disrupt the peace I had created. At the mall, Ms. Attitude put on her Ms. America smile and helped me piece together something scandalous, us laughing and her taking time out of her shopping.

Then we split up and Denouncer, Instigator and I went bra shopping. All in all, we were all having a great time. On the way back, the girls all sat to one side of the bus and I sat on the other. I don't know how we even got on the subject of my picture, but sure enough, we did and I was once again defending myself.

"Hey, I just want to know, is you gay or what?" Instigator asked, her eyebrows raised.
"No, I'm not gay," I laughed it off. They kept firing questions at me, and finally I snapped, "You know what? Y'all are being very childish and petty right now!"

Readers, they had the nerve to look surprised, like "Who, me?!"!!! I watched in disbelief as they looked at me like I was crazy and Denouncer said, "Wait, you really think we're childish?" As if by some fucking chance another group of girls had appeared and I was talking about them. I stood my ground.

"Yeah, I do."
"But how? What makes us childish and petty?"
"This. This whole argument is very childish."
"But how does this make us petty?"
"By going back and forth about something that's as trivial as this, you become petty." She kept asking me the same thing and the more back and forth we went, the more irritated I became, and it was showing my voice. "And furthermore, what's this whole getting smart thing?"

"No one said you were getting smart!" Denouncer and the rest of the girls said.
I pointed to Ms. Attitude. "She did yesterday--"
"--wait a minute now!" Attitude interrupted me, yelling. "All I said was that you could have just answered the question instead of catching an attitude with me!"

I shook my head and looked at her like she had lost her damn mind. "Attitude, we were on A-I-M!!! How would you know if I was getting an attitude with you?!" My voice was raised now, and we were both yelling.

"That is a good point," Instigator said, popping her gum, "sometimes things seem different online."

Readers, NO SHIT!!! Everyone who has ever typed out a sentence online should know that, right?

"My point is," I said, trying to control my voice (it was now beginning to shake with anger), "when I wrote, 'You need to get a man' on Facebook I added 'LOL' to show that I didn't have hard feelings--"

"--NAW!!!" they all cried at once, shaking their heads. "You were catching an attitude!"

"Oh my GOD!!!" I yelled back. "Do you hear yourselves? Once again, how was I catching an attitude through Facebook?"

"See, you getting an attitude now," yelled Attitude.

"What?!" I yelled back, outraged. I wasn't getting an attitude, I was wondering how the fuck these chicks made it to college! I mean, I'm all for Affirmative Action, but damn! The University couldn't do better than this?

"Yeah, you are," added Bible Thumper. The whole time she had been nodding her head and agreeing with her croonies. "I mean...it may not seem that way to you, but sometimes you say things that are not cool and it sounds like you're getting smart."

"Like when?" I asked, huffing.

It was obvious that they had been rehearsing this part, and these are the examples they gave me:

1) One day some girls (including the Saved Sinners) and I were supposed to be going to the mall.
About 15 of them were already in the lobby, waiting for me and a few others. As I walked up, I grinned at the sight: the lobby is mainly white and beige, and then you pan over to a huge group of color, ranging from various shades of browns. I said this as I walked up, laughing and they were confused but didn't seem offended. I just took it as a joke that went over their heads or something. No biggie. We went to the mall and had a good time, as planned.

"You see, no one thought that comment you made was funny," Denouncer said. Everyone looked at me pointedly, and I tried to explain what I meant by it.

"I wasn't trying to offend, I was just saying it was funny to see so much brown in the lobby."

2) The second example had to deal with the N-word. Apparently, they didn't appreciate it when I called them "Negroes". However, it was acceptable to use the infamous "nigger". Now, I'm an intellectual. And to me, and those of my friends that are on my level, the word "nigger" is highly offensive. I don't like it in rap music, I don't like it when people talk. "Negroes" on the other hand, was what African Americans were commonly called in the Civil Rights era. If you walk up to any black person today and ask them which is more offensive, "nigger" or "Negro", which one do you think they'd pick? The Saved Sinners, though, did not appreciate such history.

"I'm sorry, " Attitude said, "I just don't want to be called a 'negro'." The rest agreed with her. "I hear enough about the color of my skin and don't want to hear that!"

Everyone was bobbing their heads up and down.

Disgusted, I shrugged. "Okay, that's fine. From now on, I won't make jokes about us being black and I won't call you 'negroes'. That's fine. Is there anything else that upsets you?" They listed off a few more things, most reverting back to the way I "sound like I'm getting smart with them". I nodded, just through with the whole thing. While they were talking, I was thinking, This is some bullshit on rye bread. What...the...fuck...is...wrong...with...these....bitches? Is it me? Do I attract ignorance like this with a big sign on my forehead?

I tried to mention something that was bothering me. "Attitude, I can't even say something or make a point without you yelling or jumping down my throat." I said it in a calm voice, knowing she would blow up, and hoping to put emphasis on my point.

Like clockwork, she snapped, "I do not get an attitude, I'm just saying!" Oh, sister girl was working some serious pissed-off vibes and the rest didn't seem bothered by it. She began the trademark angry black woman prayer. "Loooorrrdd, just let me get off this bus, please before I hurt somebody's feelings..."

We all quieted down, each in our own thoughts.

Now that they were satisfied with grilling me, we all went to another friend's room and they sat and chat. I didn't open my mouth the whole time and wouldn't sit down. Not only was I pissed off beyond what I'd thought I would ever be, the hurt was beginning to seep down as well. These were supposed to be my girls, my sistas. And they didn't know shit from the toilet. They were immature, and even worse, stupid. I felt let down in a way, as if I had been subjected to the highest betrayal.

I think out of all of them, Bible Thumper knew deep down she was wrong. I kept meeting her eyes across the room, and they were projecting a subtle apology. Attitude had the nerve to ask, "Did you want to sit down?" in a not too friendly way, after I had been standing for about 30 minutes. I shook my head with a thin smile and kept to myself. Even now, I wonder why I didn't leave. I think it was pride, I wasn't going to show complete defeat until I was back in my own room with the door closed and locked.

We left later on that night, and went our separate ways. I gave dry "goodbyes" and went to my room. My heart was hurting at this point. I climbed in bed, called Boyfriend, cried to him until I fell asleep. But the ripples of something like that go far and wide. And so the story doesn't end here. Tomorrow I'll tell you how the after effects were fucking with my peace of mind....

The Saved Sinners (Halleluja!)

Once upon a time, I wanted to meet black girls. And not just any black girls, black girls I could connect with. I'm not prejudiced in the least, but I was tired of being the "black acquaintance" at the parties, where the white guys would stare and try to decide if they wanted to be scared or sly and try the "dark side" and where the white girls would ask, "Oh my god, how did you do your hair?!" and finger my braids. When you go to a school that is about 89% white, it's hard to meet other minorities. So, I would strike up a conversation with every black girl I came in contact with, hoping to make more connections. Finally, I met Bible Thumper, and hit pay dirt.
Bible Thumper is what we like to call, "the model young Christian". Raised in the church, sings in the choir, goes to bible study 3 times a week, the whole shabang. Her friends, are more of what we call Secular Christians. You know, the ones that can quote from the Good Book and give you sex tips in the same breath? Yeah, those.
However, I digress. Bible Thumper was nice. She invited me out to a party and we met up with her other friends, The Denouncer, The Instigator, and Ms. Attitude. We had a great time, and after that, if a major party was going on in the Negro community, we were there. I guess they felt like I needed to be further examined and therefore they checked my Facebook page.

Now, everyone in the Free World either has a Myspace or a Facebook. Quite personally, I like Facebook because it keeps little kiddies at bay until they go to college. However, how many people out there has a tale of how something on their Facebook page got them into trouble? Never fails. Mine, being the freaky deaky girl I am, had a picture of Insecure Twit bending over and me biting her thong, grinning at the camera. Yes, I had had a few drinks in me, but that's not the point. The point was that it was funny, and therefore the picture was taken.

I woke up one random morning, yawing and scratching obscure places, plopped down at my computer and noticed a comment on the picture. The comment stated (and I'm paraphrasing):

Girl, what is really going on here? This shit is nasty! uh-uh...this is not what we do...

It was from The Denouncer. And I was pissed. Now, for those who haven't caught on from Alkie Attack , I have what some might call a slight temper. And I have little patience when my character is being called into question, especially over something as trivial as a picture. But, still trying to hang on to my new friends, I wrote back:

So what, you girls just go through people's pages finding things wrong? You need a man girl, lol.

And then I went along my merry business. When I returned I found multiple comments on my picture AND my page including:

Bible Thumper (on the picture) : This is just nasty, I'm sorry...this is definitely NOT what I would want to do...

The Denouncer (on the picture, responding back to the comment I made jokingly, "y'all are just jealous!") : Jealous?! Of what? This is some nasty shit and this is not something I would want to be seen doing....

All in all, very childish comments. Readers, I have no time for childish comments or childish people. And I was very tired of talking through Facebook. So, what did I do? I took a trip to go see the girls themselves.

Bible Thumper was in her room and looked very nervous when I came knocking at her door. I think she was surprised to see me coming.

"So, what's this all about?," I asked BT.

"Well," she stammered, "I mean, I just want to know...you were drunk, right?"

"...yeah, I was drunk, but what's with the foul comments?"

She said something about how The Denouncer was the one that wrote the comments and suggested I get on AIM (where the others were waiting) to straighten it out. I took her up on it, raced back to my room, and logged on. To keep a long, very long, IM short, the girls wanted to know:

Q. Why did you take that picture?

A. Because I thought it was funny.

Q. Yes, but did you know it was being taken.

A. Of course!

Q. Well, why did you let them put it on Facebook?

A. Why not? The people who know me and who are my friends know that I'm silly like that and they know not to come at me like this. Besides, I don't care what other people think.

This is where Ms. Attitude came in and was like, "Wait a minute, don't get smart!"

Readers, SAY WHAT???? Don't get smart??

I wrote back, "Ms. Attitude and everyone else on here, let's get one thing straight: I don't have to get smart with anyone because I'm a grown woman. There would be no reason for me to get smart in the first place. Ms. Attitude, you asked me a question and I simply answered it." It was so quiet I could literally hear the soft hum of my computer and then:



Q. Well, are you gay?

A. No. LOL (I'm thinking...the nerve!)

They didn't have anything to say after that, and finally I wrote a few more "pleasantries" and signed off.

At that point, I was found it a done deal. They later invited me out shopping and I accepted. However, I should have known that wasn't the last I would hear of it. Turns out, they were just waiting to roast me in person. Tell you that one tomorrow.....

Dip, Dab, Lick and Repeat

I know this blog is supposed to be about the Alkies and the Saved Sinners, but we're all on spring break (thank God) and so I'm out of their clutches for now. Not much has been happening on the home front with my family, so I'll keep my lovely readers entertained with tales of Boyfriend.

Because we used to work together, we'd often take lunch breaks at the same time. During one of our lunches, I mentioned, "Hey, we should do body art sometime."

"What's that?," he asked.

"Oh, you know...body art..."

He shook his head in confusion and I proceeded to lay it out for him:

"Body art is when we both get naked, and take chocolate, candies and other fixings and create art....on each other."

Boyfriend shyly lowered his eyes to his plate and I continued:

"And then, we proceed to lick it off--"

I was interrupted by Boyfriend choking and sat back, amused as he gasped for breath and took sips of water. Finally, he managed, "But...?"

"But what?"

"Where?"

"Don't worry, I have a place."

"When?"

"Soon as I get ready."

He already had a few hints that I was sexually confident. What he didn't know was that I had been planning the body art extravaganza for a while with help from my friends, and much preparation had come about.

A few days later, I put a blanket in my car (on the sly--my parent's were watching me like a hawk), and went to go pick him up. I was wearing a decent skirt (knee length) and blouse combo, nothing skanky. After I got him, we went to the grocery store and I picked out chocolate syrup, strawberries, M&Ms, and whipped cream. Then, we proceeded to go to the local elementary school.

Something to note: one of my turn-ons is having sex in public places. Don't ask, I have no clue as to how that came about.


Anywho, we arrived at the school and I set the scene with the blanket, the supplies, the whole shabang. Boyfriend stood there watching, both nervous and intrigued. Finally, I told him to strip down and then he watched as I did the same. I'm not going to get into the nitty gritty, but as soon as we were done, we noticed that there were some kids walking towards us (we were right by the playground). Adrenaline kicked in and we both jumped up and fumbled for underwear, glasses, shirts and shoes.

I'm pretty sure the kids noticed what we were doing because they never did make it to where we were (I believe they turned around, but I wasn't about to stop and ask). All I know is that one minute I was naked on a blanket and the next I was sitting in my car with my shirt and skirt on (my underwear tossed in the back) huffing and puffing with Boyfriend. I loved it.

We drove to the local diner because unfortunately we were decked out in chocolate (amongst other things) from head to toe. As we walked in, I swear it was a scene straight out of a Western, where the music abruptly stopped, everyone turned around and stared. Boyfriend looked like he could've died on the spot, by since this was my forte, I straightened my back, raised an eyebrow and walked right up to a waitress.

"Excuse me, where are your bathrooms?"

The waitress mutely pointed me to the back and stared as Boyfriend and I walked by. After we cleaned up we sat down and ate, squirming as the chocolate began to harden. The night lasted on a good note, where we discussed the body art session and what we did and didn't like. You would've thought that Boyfriend would have had enough and called it quits with me, but nah. I was a breath of fresh air and spontaneous. It was just what the doctor ordered.

Monsters-In-Law

To be completely honest, I don't remember how Boyfriend asked me to meet his folks. It seems like one day we were eating at a really expensive restaurant, and he was doting on my every whim, and the next, I was sitting in his living room, with my Ms. America smile on, trying to impress two strangers.

To answer the question of what nationality he is: he's half Arabic and half white. His mom is white and his dad is a full blown Middle Easterner (dark skin, hairy, large mustache, you get it). The results were a Greek God.

Before I go on, I must say that I'm back in another part of the Midwest, where the cows roam and my parents live, on Spring Break, and I used to go to a high school entitled Valley High. So, in grand tradition of the Valley girls, I'll tell the story in their fashion.

Soooo, I'm totally sitting on this couch across from his 'rents, and like, his mom is asking me a million questions! I mean, like, everything! But she's totally interested in my what my parents do, and like, I felt like I should have totally gave her two copies of their resumes, you know? And the dad is this TOTALLY non-concerned guy with a big mustache who's just sitting there, you know? Like, hello??? Is anyone there, lurking behind the facial hair??? And, I'm soooo good at telling when women don't like me, right? So, I look at the mom, she looks at me, and I. Just. Know. Swear to God. I just know! She's hates me! I haven't even, like, DONE anything wrong, and she totally hates me! And Boyfriend? He's just sitting there with a big ole smile on his face, totally not realizing that I'm being GRILLED by his fake-smile-wearing mother. Ugh! OH MY GAWD!

Yeah, the mother definitely had some issues that any woman could have figured out. She was jealous of this girl that her son had brought home. Turns out, Boyfriend was (and still is) the lackey in his family. He was the sister's best friend (because he really didn't have any friends of his own), and the mom's...this sounds weird, but it was like the mom needed attention. And since the dad wasn't all the receptive, she depended on Boyfriend. He really didn't have a social life, and this made it easier for the parents to keep track of him. And they were very used to telling him what to do with his life and how.

Thus, when I came along, things were turned upside down. After about 6 months of dating, we exchanged promise rings, much to the parents' horror (my parents were curious and amused, but not outraged like his). Around this time he started saying "I love you" to me on the phone when his parents were within earshot. After 9 months of dating, his mother went through his things during one of his breaks and found condoms. I was then bumped up from being the "threat" to the "whorish threat".

During the 2 years that we've been together, I've heard of some of the things his mom has said about me, including one time when Boyfriend had used the family's van to take me out. The next day, the mom got in the van, took one look at the driver's side window, and said, "Oh, here's a grease spot...was Girlfriend in the car?" Ouch. They refuse to call me his girlfriend, opting for "visitor", "guest" or "friend". She's made more backhanded racist remarks than I care to admit and Boyfriend has eventually stopped telling me because it makes me upset. They fought before I arrived on the scene, but now Boyfriend has a new motivation when an unfair remark is made about me, and they don't like it.


All in all, most people ask, "Why are you still with him?! I would have ______ [fill in the blank: killed him, killed the parents, left and wrote hate mail, ect]!" I have no clue. I just love him. And I'm tough and smart. That's the #1 reason the mom hates me. She may have had the upper hand with Boyfriend when he was single, but he has a new woman in his life that supports him in what he wants to do, respects him, and provides killer orgasms. She has a snowball's chance in hell....

Wait, he's not black?!

Gather round, boys and girls, and let me tell you a story of mistaken identity. One full of the mysteries of the Wild Wild West, gun fights, whorehouses, lots of tobacco and rotten teeth.


Okay, maybe not all of that, but definitely mistaken identity. I met my boyfriend at work almost 2 years ago, by complete accident: I was simply standing in the elevator, waiting for the doors to close and he caught my eye. I immediately became excited because I had just broken up with a creep that happened to be my neighbor a few months earlier, and I was ripe for a booty-call. Also, I was a virgin and very, very horny.

Anywho! I sprinted out of the elevator, name-tag flapping in the wind and rushed back to my area, where my co-worker was.

"Oh my gaaawwwd," I gasped, partly because Boyfriend was so hot and partly because I've always been about 10 pounds overweight, "I just saw the most amazing looking guy!" My co-worker glanced over at me with raised eyebrows, and said a few things to the guy she was on the phone with (one of her many baby-daddies, no lie).

"Who?"

"This light-skinned black guy from upstairs in the men's department (I worked in a clothing store)!" Co-worker immediately got excited and tried to convince me to say something to him. She, along with another co-worker, had been trying to help me get laid for about 7 months, with no hope in the horizon. So, the fact that I had a potential penis prospect was promising (try saying that 7 times).

Co-worker (who, mind you, was about 33) straightened her back, put on her determined face and went upstairs to check out the hottie. On her way back down, she informed me, "Girl, he's not black! He's Italian!"

"What?!" I said, surprised. "He's not black?"

"Naw girl," my co-worker said, laughing and getting back on the phone.

For the next two weeks, I made sly glances and sudden appearances in his apartment. I have a thing for hair--it's one of my many weird fetishes. And Boyfriend was as hairy as they come while still looking clean. He had this incredible, thick and long curly hair that was pulled back into a pony tail, olive skin, a neatly trimmed beard, and he (at the time) worked out, so his was quite fit. I also made friends with his sister, who was a spitting image of him with boobs (I don't know if that's a compliment or not...). After a while, I told her I was interested in him, and she passed along the message.

It is also VERY IMPORTANT to note that during the scoping out period, everyone guess what nationality he was. I received Mexican, Black-n-White, Indian, the list goes on and on.

The full story is too long for a blog, but I will say that my friends had to approve, and one day all 10 of them (boyfriends included) decided to make an appearance in his department, giggling and pointing. Awkward on a cold platter, anyone?

Finally, I made my way over to him head on, looking like the Chocolate Diva that I am. The first thing out of my mouth was, "Hey, can I ask you a question?"

He leaned over his counter expectantly. "Yes?"

"....can I touch your hair?"

He looked crushed for a moment and nodded. I felt up his hair follicles for a moment and then said, "Can I ask you another question?"

He nodded mutely and I asked him out for coffee, which he accepted immediately.


And that, kids, is the story of how we met. Tomorrow, I'll continue on our journey with introductions of his mother, his father, and just how scary a close-knit family can be.

Work, Work, Work

Dear Readers,

Save. Me. Now. Mid-term Hell has finally began to work on me, and although I only have 2 more days before it's all over, it's going to be the longest two days of my life. Let's give a quick re-cap of all that's happened in the last 24 hours:

1. I'm turning in my letter of resignation into my job today. I've had enough of being the assistant who gets paid close to nothing, is made to feel like a complete ass on a daily basis, and have to walk around on eggshells during the measly hours she works. Definitely not worth it. I'm a sophomore in college, there's plenty of other ass I could kiss in my future.

2. I'm filming more for a class project today--yay. Nothing like standing over hot lights and nervous actresses in a small cramped dorm room to bring out the beauty in the film making process.

3. I received word that next year I'll be the dreaded RA. I'm ecstatic (no, really). Even though being an RA puts a complete halt to your social life (which is the reason most college students stay as far away from it as possible) it keeps you around $6,000 out of debt yearly--enough reason for me to go against the odds and have no life for the next few years. If I wasn't operating on about 3 hours of sleep, I'd leap for joy again.

4. My boyfriend has officially gained favor with his parents again, and is worthy of carrying their name (for now). I haven't introduced my boyfriend and his pyschotic family so far, and because it's one of my favorite stories to tell, I'll have to save that for tomorrow. Trust me, you'll get a kick out of this.

Till then!

Alkie Attack Pt. 2

Last time on Alkie Attack......

"Well, that's just rude." Her sister ignored her and suddenly, I became the secret enemy.


We finally ended up leaving (with me still hanging on to that SAME cup mind you) and went over to IT's friend's house for even more drinking and a "dance party". Once we got there, the sister opened up her bottle of Parot Bay and Snapple, and PG started taking shots from the bottle with her. I joined in a couple of times (honestly, I was just taking sips....I can't take big doses of any type of booze) while IT watched me from the corner of her eye. I didn't notice this, of course, because I was still having fun. Pictures were taken, pot was brought out, the whole shabang!

After moving around the party for a while, I saw IT standing against the fridge with one of her horny male friends dry humping her. She had taken personal responsibility of the UV and had it in her hand the WHOLE night. No big, right? BMW was also drinking with her, whenever the poor bottle was set down. I reached over for the bottle and IT moved her hand.

"Hey, can I have a sip?" I asked politely.


The sister noticed, yanked the bottle out of her hand and threw it into mine. IT said, with a fake smile, "Uh-oh, we just got robbed!" She took the bottle back, and me, still thinking this is all fun and games, asked, "Hey, do you mind if I have a sip?"

IT's classic response was, "Did you pay my sister?"

I was confused. "What?"

She looked me dead in the eye and said (with an attitude!), "How bout you try paying my sister first." And took another swig out of the bottle.

Readers, I don't know what happened. It probably was the previous drinking that had already made my blood a little warm, but it was her comment that made it boil. And I hate to act the stereotypical ghetto, but that part of me was large and in charge at that moment.

"What did you just say to me?" I asked, getting loud. She continued to talk to the Mr. Humper, now noticeably scared. I think she was surprised she just said that as well. But I wasn't going to let her get off easy. "I can't believe you just said some shit like that to me!"

By this time another guy had swapped out to hump her, and they were holding a drunken staring contest as she desperately tried to ignore me. I tapped Humper 2 on the shoulder and he broke his stare, and I said, "Excuse me, I have to speak with her..."

"No!" she said, still not looking at me and ran into the next room. Now my blood pressure had reached the ceiling and shot through it. I followed her and went off.

"Bitch, I can't BELIEVE you just said some shit like that to me when you're the biggest motherfuckin drunk out of all five of us! Fuck you!"

The rest of the alkies had that look, you know, the classic one white girls have when their black acquaintance gets pissed off. That Oh, my God, the wrath of the negro! look. Ugh. Anywho, I proceeded to curse her out and then went to attempt to cool off in the kitchen.

BMW had the nerve to waddle her ass in after me, bottle of UV and Snapple in tow, and say, "Here, just take it." As if I'm fucking robbing them or something, right?! I pushed the bottle away from her with a snort of disgust, saying, "No, fuck that, I'm done." And I was. I ended up having to curse IT out once more (she was attempting to talk shit right in front of me....once again, the ghetto side) and was standing out by the door in the cold, waiting for an invisible ride. One of IT's friends came out and attempted to talk me into coming back into the warmth and after a while I relented.

While this all went on, IT started to cry and I could hear the rest of the alkies consoling her. Finally, DD called a cab and the four of us, minus IT, went back to the dorms. I think PG was so scared that she slept in DD's room that night, and on the way back, no one said a word to me. But at least I knew who was loyal.

As I calmed down, I felt slightly bad for cursing her out. I ended up taping a $20 bill on her door with the note:

For the 1 1/2 cups of A. Mist and approximately 2 cups of Parot Bay

But any remorse I had evaporated as soon as I thought about how shady all of those girls were. So, I guess I felt bad for letting myself get in that situation when I knew better. What do you think?

Alkie Attack

For those who have decided to read on to the second post, you're probably sitting at your computer, sighing, and saying, "Why in the world would I want to read about her...?" Good Question. And I'm not really sure how to answer it.

For me, this is simply is a diary. As I stated in the last post, people are always bugging me to spill more when I do reveal what I'm thinking, and I just figured having a public blog would give me a chance to write/say it once and once only. :) Not that I don't love those who are interested in my life or anything...

I am 19 years of age and I go to college (University X will be its undercover name) to pursue a degree in Film. I live in the dorms, work in the office of the Film Program and complain during my leisure time. I like reading romance novels, long walks on the beach, the golden sunsets....just kidding. But honestly, how much more about me do you need to know in this post? All YOU need to know at this point is that we begin our journey dealing with the Alkies and their reign of drunken terrror.


Back history: I live with PG and IT in these jail cells of dorm rooms and Ms. IT usually drinks every night of the week. No lie. PG only drinks when she doesn't have homework or studying to do, so she downs her fire water at least 3 times a week. I, being the lightweight that I am, only drink on the weekends (or if I'm super stressed I'll have a glass during the week before bed) and can't handle more than two drinks. Result: Me never drinking with them unless I'm desperate. On Thursday, IT's older sister came by town (mind you, she's an alkie herself) and brought 2 big bottles of Arbor Mist, 1 bottle of Parot Bay, and 1 bottle of UV to town with her. While IT entertained her parents in her room next door, the sister dressed in PG and my room.

"God, I need a drink," she huffed, and cracked open the bottle of Arbor Mist. She offered PG one, who graciously took a cup, and then held the bottle over to me, who was watching with raised eyebrows.
"Well...." I started. I had told my boyfriend that I wasn't going to go out tonight, that I was just going to watch t.v. and bond with him over the phone after a long week of hard work. However, he was currently knocked out at his place, and I was feeling lonely. "I guess..." She poured me a cup and I sipped on it while PG downed it and then the sister took her share to the bathroom to drink while in the shower. By the time the sister got back, she had finished her cup and was pouring herself and PG another one. I was only half done.
"Might as well finish the bottle," she said, reaching over and filling my drink again. I slowly drank and laughed with the sister as IT walked in and surveyed the scene.

"You guys have already started drinking?," she asked, annoyed.
"Yeah, sorry," PG said, not sounding concerned at all. IT looked over at me with subtle disgust and said, "Why don't you come say hi to my parents?" Now folks, I had just woken up. My breath was kicking like Bruce Lee, my eyes were all crusty and I was not in a parent-greeting mood. My defense?

"Well, I've already met your mom," I squinted, hoping that would be enough. It wasn't.
"Come meet my dad."
"Okay, I'll be in there in a minute," I lied. She gave an irritated sigh and went back to the next room. Time to take a break and offer a little more back history:

PG and IT used to be BFFs at one point, but PG has a nasty habit of changing her best friends like she changes outfits. The results are the rest of the alkies going at each others throats because they're no longer in the loop. In IT's case, PG had to get rid of her because IT loves drinking and not paying, which is the #1 sin in college. I mean, this chick went through half a handle of Captain's once. She does not drink for fun. Result: If you have a bottle of liquor and you see IT coming, either hide it or run. Or both.

Back to the present:

We continued to drink and laugh and the rest of the alkies came by as well. I let my boyfriend know what my new plans were (he was slightly irritated but didn't make a stink) and changed into a party outfit. All the while hanging on to the SAME cup. In the meantime, the 2nd bottle of Arbor Mist had been popped open and drinks had been poured. Now, my roomie and her posse like to listen to music while they drink. If I by chance have my computer on and it's playing whatever I'm listening to, they'll decide that's not what they want to listen to and turn my computer down. Never fails. Quite personally, readers, I think that's rude. I mean, it is my room as well. I just never say anything.

Fortunately for me, the sister had a love of my future baby's daddy--Ludacris. She went to my computer (which has louder speakers) and turned on one of his hits and we started dancing, swooning, and swearing over him. IT came over, on schedule, and turned mine down to start listening to a sappy love song. The Sister looked at me:

"I know they didn't just turn our song down," she said. I nodded like an 8 year old who was about to watch his older brother get in trouble.
"They always do that to me," I said.
The sister pursed her lips and turned my computer up louder and the girls attention turned to us.
"Hey! We were listening to that song!" BMW complained.
"You guys always turn down my music when you're here," I countered.
"Yeah, who wants to listen to --- anyway?" The sister said, with a touch of "That's final" in her voice. The other alkies continued to glare at us as we bopped to Luda and finally IT snapped,
"Well, that's just rude." Her sister ignored her and suddenly, I became the secret enemy.

The Beginning of Our Journey

Hello out there, this blog is called (if you haven't read the big title in white letters) "The Sophomore Chronicles" and I'm The Author. Everyone is always asking me (or rather demanding in a polite way) that I should write down what happens in my life because it seems to amuse so many people, and for that I'm finally giving in to the pressure.

The main goal of this blog is to entertain (as I always am ) you with the daily mishaps of my life via college, my two groups of "friends" (they're the ones posted on the right), my family and my boyfriend. Enjoy, and please leave comments freely, but remember to be nice!!!! :)