Week two of school. Week three of being back in Arizona. My alcohol intake is slowly declining and I can’t say that I mind it. At the rate I’ve been going, my body will surely shut down within a couple days. Luckily for me though (and my housemates) the routines of drinking only three (maybe four) nights a week is coming back into style.
Speaking of drinking on inappropriate nights, on Monday we had our first of many cocktail parties. We slithered into our hottest dresses and highest heels for a more grown up look, but took shots, slapped the (wine) bag, chugged straight from the four dollar Andre bottle, and blasted the most unrefined music in true college form. It was basically a dressed up rager. A glammed up raunchfest. Needless to say, it was a great night. Proof that people don’t change overnight, I blacked out and passed out well before the party was over. I woke up the next morning to find a boy in my roommates bed (not her boyfriend) to later find out that it was the current love of my life, Zach. I also discovered that almost all of my housemates blacked out too and had their own drunken adventures. Five out of six, baby! Very well done, girls. Our kitchen floor has changed from its normal whitish color to a browny-black and it is impossible to walk around without your feet getting stuck, forcing your body to come to a surprising shock and resulting in your body tumbling to the ground. My shoes were also outside in the morning. So was the Brita. About a dozen people threw up- at the party. Not that I really remember, but if those things don’t mean a successful party. In the morning we put music on at a noise level that should have hurt our hung-over heads and had an all girls dance party (I believe Zach was still upstairs).
Now I’m sitting in my room on what seems like a Sunday but is actually a Tuesday because I lazily opted to skip out on my only class of the day. I’m posting pictures of the night before on Facebook when Miranda pushes through the door. She storms by my bed without so much as a glance at me and throws herself down onto her own bed. Not only did she bring a foul attitude but also a very pungent aroma of Ralph Lauren Romance (her signature scent) in an attempt to cover up the smell of beer and boy. It seems like she also brought in a freaking sunset, she’s wearing so much pink. Freaking Barbie.
I sneak a look at her out of the corner of my eye, not wanting to completely look because I know she’s staring at me with a bratty pout on her face. She’s splayed across her (you guessed it) pink bed, her dress dangerously close to showing off her (as guys put it) “fine” ass. Her bring blonde hair is covering half her face. The only thing not perfect about her in her slightly, almost undetected, smeared mascara on her left eye. Even with a massive hangover the girl still seems to beat me, actually most people, by miles. She sighs.
“What’s wrong, Rand?” I finally ask because I know she won’t stop moaning and groaning until I do.
She says something undecipherable.
“What, Miranda?” My hangover is making me snippy.
“I feel like shit,” She says more clearly.
“Well that’s a given,” I snort. “ I knew we had lost you when you did that second keg stand.” I pause. “Where did that keg even come from?” I hazily recall people gathering around a keg that I know we did not purchase. At the same time Miranda and I gag and shudder at the thought of booze.
“First off, I have absolutely no idea where that keg came from. Which is actually really disgusting and scares me a little bit. I’m hoping that Sean and those guys bought it. Secondly, don’t ever, ever let me drink again!” Miranda buries her head dramatically into her pillow.
“Well,” I say. “Tomorrow is Wednesday. And you’re telling me that you’re not gonna go out or drink? Bull shit, ma dear. Bull. Shit.” Miranda prides herself on being a constant presence in the social scene. She struggles to sit up in her bed and visibly comes to term with the thought.
She smiles, “Oh well, it’s worth it.”
“Agreed.” I say.
Miranda, in complete oblivion to what I’m doing (which is reading In-Style magazine in bed) then gets up, closes the door, turns off the lights, closes the blinds, and turns the fan that was blowing towards me in her direction. All in lightening speed. She strips off clothes down to her lacey white bra and thong, and jumps in bed, obviously pleased with the new adjustments in the room. Before I can open my mouth to object, she grabs one of those things that divas wear over their eyes when they sleep that, I kid you not, says “Sleeping Beauty” and puts her iPod headphones in her ears. I can hear the Fray playing rather loudly considering she’s so obviously trying to go to sleep. Oh well. I won’t even try. I turn on the lamp next to my bed and go back to reading my magazine.
“Noe?” Miranda says in a sickly sweet voice which means I know she wants something.
“Yes, Sleeping Beauty?” I say, making fun of her.
She ignores this. “Sean is gonna come over and take a nap with me. Is that ok?”
“Yep,” I say. “I’m gonna get out for a while so feel free to get your freak on!”
She yawns and doesn’t laugh at my joke. “Thanks, girl.”
I shimmy on my Joe’s jeans and tell her to have a good nap. I leave the house with the essentials. 1) Oversized sunglasses so I don’t have to make eye contact with people I don’t want to talk to. 2) Oversized brown leather purse with buckles just because it’s so effing cute. 3) Chap stick because my lips are like sandpaper and 4) Cell phone so I can call my mom or a friend from home so I don’t have to stop and talk to anyone, risking unwanted or awkward conversation I see in passing.
I start off in the direction of campus but I really don’t have anything to do. I see Sean across the street and wave at him. He flashes his perfect smile and shouts “What’s up, Noe!” Ok, well Sean and Miranda started going out at the end of last year. Yes he is the same Sean that Miranda had such deep conversation with in a previous entry. They did the whole long distance thing over the summer and are now back at each other’s flawless sides. They are grossly and adorably obsessed with each other and grossly and adorably perfect for each other. They’re of the same breed- blonde, tall, fucking gorgeous- and there are also both obsessed with themselves which is why they are obsessed with each other. It all works out.
I wave a friendly hello back to Sean and decide that I’m going to do a little drop by at my friend Lindsey’s house so we can discuss every single detail, relive and rehash the (sadly, and unhealthily) now distant memories of last night.