Well, well, well…look what the cat dragged in. A puffy eyed, half drunk, chicken legged, Gizzy. My sincerest apologies for being MIA for the past week. It’s been pretty difficult to write an anonymous blog with 3 frat guys in my face 24 hours a day. Although Anth does know about the blog but refuses to read it, so I guess I could just tell them I need some “Me” time to come here and talk shit about them and maybe it would increase our readership. Ah, well.
I pretty much assumed this weekend was going to be a bust when I got this email last week from one of my new broomies (bro-roomies):
To: Everyone he knows
Subject: Keg O Beer
We had a house meeting and decided to get a Keg for the game on Saturday at our apt (two doors down from the
w-hore house). It is nationally televised so we were thinking of getting started early. Everyone is welcome and Doogie offered to pay for the keg and Katie volunteered to make food sooooo we are all set. This email is my only responsibility so if you have questions please contact Anth. Not sure if I left anyone off so feel free to invite whoever.
Just to keep everyone up with the times “early” means 10am and the game wasn’t until that night and I also was not a part of this so called “house meeting.” As I definitely would not have voted in favor for this Saturday morning kegger at our apartment. Anyway, the kegger must go on whether I agree with it or not. So I did my best to be an active participant after I got woken up with a keg beer at 10:30 Saturday morning and called up HOTTIE to invite him to the happenings.
HOTTIE and our 1 other guest arrived about 1pm where the heavy drinking commenced. I honestly don’t remember ever seeing the actual game on, but there was a good 3-4 hours where I took a nap. The good part of the story is yet to come when we started in on round 2, 12 hours later.
Round 2 started off with some good old fashioned beer pong and led into HOTTIE and I calling it a night 2 hours later where we ventured down to my dungeon in the basement, which is naturally about 65 degrees with the heat on. I laid down on my bed, which is directly under the heat vent. Most people would consider having the vent right over them their life’s savior, but not me. Any kind of air blowing on or around me makes me want to ralph all over the place. I don’t know why and I don’t want to fix it. So poor HOTTIE, bless his little soul, decides to open up the vent because I’m laying there shivering. Then it went something like:
Gizzy: WTF ARE YOU DOING!!!!!!
HOTTIE: Umm, opening the vent so you’re not cold.
G: I’m not cold!! CLOSE IT!
H: Gizzy, you’re shivering.
G: I HATE THE AIR! CLOSE IT!!!!!!!!!! YOU CANT JUST COME INTO A GIRL’S APARTMENT AND THINK IT’S OK TO START OPENING VENTS AND SHIT!
H: But we’re going to freeze all night, it’s like 2 degrees down here.
G: DO YOU WANT ME TO RALPH ON YOUR FACE? DO YOU? DO YOU? BECAUSE IF YOU LEAVE THAT VENT OPEN THAT’S WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN! GOT IT!!??? NOW CLOSE IT!!!!
So he closed the vent and went upstairs and I didn’t see him for the rest of the night. In the morning he was pretty ho-hum about it all but I guess I should probably apologize for being a royal beeotch/not explaining my thing with air because he really hasn’t talked to me since he left yesterday morning. I’m not really sure what kind of explaining I could even do to make myself not sound like a freak in this situation. It’s just something I’m not willing to give up. I can give a little on putting on all my chapsticks before I go to bed and I can give up twirling my hair, but the air, I will not seek treatment for air blowing on me making me feel sick. I’m just getting to that age where a man is going to have to cater to my weirdness and I’m ok with it. When I find a guy that hates air as much as me, I’ll know he’s THE ONE.