The party I went to last night was okay. Rather typical, what with all the beer ponging and togaing. I just sort of followed Kelly, smiled a lot, and obliged when strangers wanted to hug me and quote my videos. I went as the font Gothicum, and wore a tiny black dress, masses of black eyeliner, gold heels, and these awesome dangly gold earrings from the seventies that I got at the most adorable vintage shop in all the world, located underground on campus. It's strange that this isn't all dress-up anymore; I'm old enough to be here. Everyone's my age. If I want to wear a ton of eye makeup that looks nothing like me, no one cares, because they don't know me. I'm not the girl who made out with Mike at a party in eighth grade, or the rival of the middle school queen bee, or one of the weird "individual" chicks who sit in the corner and laugh at their in-jokes at mandatory assemblies. I'm interesting and confident and new and me. I like this.
We left at about midnight because it was eighty degrees and we were starting to suffocate in the tiny frat house. We went down to the student center, where they give out free nachos and hotdogs on weekend nights in an attempt to sober people up. This guy came out and announced then that an improv show was about to start inside a coffee house, and my little gothic ears perked all the way up. It was SO, SO FUNNY AND COOL. This group of four girls and five guys stood on the stage, asked for one word from the audience (toenail) and bounced back and forth off each other for half an hour. One sketch was clearly going nowhere, so in the middle of it one of the girls walked across the stage like a dinosaur. "Oh," said the main character of the sketch, nonchalantly, "I see you've met my raptor!" I was dying. The joy that kills. Another sketch went from being about a broken-down car to Narnia, to cannibalism, to the Lollipop Guild. It ended in a fit of giggles when one of the boys pushed his way through with his arm outstretched, declaring "Thundercats!" I erupted with fangirly laughter. "Any reference to Thundercats works on me," I said to Kelly at a conversational volume, forgetting that I was right next to the stage and they could all hear me. The boy performers laughed and pointed at me, and I swear we all fell in love with each other at that moment.
I feel like I could really fit in here! I'm already meeting people that could be my friends and flirting with funny nerd boys. There's a screenwriting major! The food is amazing! I feel so fresh and pretty and fun and adventurous. Remind me to reread this blog entry when I start getting nervous again.
Oh, and before we wrap this up, I must tell you about BagelStreet. It's a little alleyway-turned-deli with brick walls inside covered in sidewalk chalk, posters and customer-made foil sculptures. People are pressed wall-to-wall, fighting their way to the front for one of the greatest sandwiches ever. I had a sundried tomato bagel with veggie cream cheese, cucumbers, tomatoes, sprouts, and provolone cheese. There's a sandwich named after Kimmie Gibbler. They hold an annual pickle-eating contest that I fully intend to win before I graduate. Remember when I said it's sexy to walk around while eating warm food wrapped in foil? Bagelstreet made it unbearably sexier.
Sexy: Weird vintage jewelry, like the gold buckle bracelet I'm wearing that I got from my grandma. Or, for example, the nerdy eighties cartoon t-shirt the cute improv boy had on last night.
Unsexy: Having indiscriminate, intoxicated college sex. One aspect I will never truly comprehend or justify.
Weight: I don't know; I'm not home.
Chipotle burritos this year: 12
Subscribers: 15, 524
Days left of high school: 21
Bye, guys! See you tomorrow. <3