Just Say No To Emoticons :)

Around 11:30 pm on a Friday night a couple weeks ago, I was sitting around the ghetto "dining room table" of my house with my five housemates, drinking and having inappropriate pre-gaming conversation. I could feel the alcohol in my cheeks and ears and looked around the table, feeling content to be in the midst of such good friends. Ginna's face was comically animated as she told a story from her childhood and we all choked back the laugh induced tears.

I was never very close to Ginna before we moved in together but living with her had given me a new appreciation for her. She is not vapid and shallow like I had initially believed. Previously, I thought that her ever-changing hair color was an indication of her insecurity, but its really an indication of her spunkyness. Hilarious, observant with a knack for telling a funny story, she flipped her (currently) chocolate brown main over her shoulder and she did an impersonation of her father.  In the middle of Ginna's performance, the fake wooden table shook. Simultaneously each girl looked down at the table to see if it was her phone that was the source of the interruption.

My mind still being on Ginna's story, it took me a moment before I realized that the vibration and following texting sound was mine. Under normal circumstances I would have been sitting, waiting and wishing that it might be a boy, but given my level of intoxication the only thing that came to my mind when  saw the red blinking light of my Blackberry was something along the lines of "Ooh! Phone make pretty light and sounddd!"After coming back to reality, I picked up my phone and saw that the noice indicated a text. In that moment, I enjoyed a private, exhilerating milimoment of joy. My stomach rose in that way it does when you hear or see the name of the one you admire. "The Giant." He was my current obsession, a freakishly tall import from a different country. My stomach squeezed itself into a tight heart shaped ball as I read the message and even when it had dropped back into its normal position, I felt the familiar buzz of a boy induced high. My drunkeness subsided for a second as I squeeled, "The Giant! He texted me!" I got similar squeals from the girls who were equally drunk and boy crazed as me.

"What'd he say?" Kensley said, licking her lips. She wore a casual white tank top and skin tight black pants. Her shirt was moistened with the Diet Sprite she was sipping.

"'Hope you're raging tonight :)'" I read aloud. "Lame, but oh well!" I was giddy despite the fact that I hate the term "rage" and I really don't appreciate the use of emoticons, especially by the male species. The text made me cringe a little but I wrote it off attributing his general d-bagness to the fact that he was a foreigner. I normally would harshly judge a guy for such behavior but his general hotness  caused me to overlook it. I answered back something that I thought was casual, but probably just cold, and switched my focus back to my friends.

I Should Have Stayed in Bed...

It's Friday morning and I'm in the process of dragging my tired body out of bed and into the backyard in hopes that some sunlight might bring me back from the dead. I step out in the behind the house into what  the girls and I affectionately call "Compton." Half greenery/half pavement it is the saddest excuse for a backyard I have ever seen. The green consists of about twelve types of weeds that mysteriously and disgustingly grew more than a foot in two weeks. It has been proven by doctors that I'm allergic to about ninety percent of the wildlife that lives in the backyard. I make myself comfortable anyway.

I tip back in a decomposing lawn chair and stretch my legs out onto the tree stump imprinted with beer caps that decorates the middle of the pavement. Shielding by makeup smeared face from the blazing sun, I wonder where the rest of the girls were. My bet is that at least a couple are at boys houses and the others might be working out or getting food. I'm happy to not be engaging in any of those things. The shoveling of flaming hot cheetos and mangoes into my mouth before I went to bed last night has resulted in a bloated stomach and the probability that I won't be hungry until later. The thought of doing something active and strenuous right now is a joke. The idea of being with a boy at the moment is even funnier. I catch myself saying "Yeah right" out loud as I scroll through the Facebook updates on my Blackberry.

I am already starting to get hot even though I have only been in the backyard for about three minutes. The beating sun and lack of wind  proves to be a little more than I can handle right now. I look down at my white t shirt now stained with flaming hot red residue and my brother's old fish patterned boxers. I decide to dispose of the gross tshirt, but opt to keep the boxers on. I can imagine the shock our ancient neighbors' faces  if they would happen to look over the fence and find a nearly naked me. With the state of my hair and makeup they would most likely think one of the local crazies had crawled into our yard. We just don't need the police showing up here, do we? Keep the boxers on.

I sit like this for a while, with my eyes closed, thinking about everything and nothing in particular, when suddenly I hear a bedroom door open and a male voice. I know I definitely recognize it, but I can't seem to place it. It's not Miranda or Ginna's boyfriends, nor is it the voice of one of the many boys Keslee circulates. Then I hear Bailey's undeniable little giggle. I don't have to look to to know that her nose is scrunched up prettily and her laugh lines have surfaced around her emerald eyes. Whoever the mystery man is, is probably eating it up. Bailey's appeal for guys is that she appears to be innocent. She looks like she's the type of girl who forms friendships with her professors, calls her older relatives every day and volunteers during her free time. She's pretty and sweet and boys love the thought that maybe they can turn her bad. The thing is though, that Bailey isn't all that innocent. The act deserves an Oscar though.

I can sense the inevitable awkwardness of a goodbye coming on. Bailey HATES awkwardness. We all do, but Bailey has an exceptionally low tolerance for it. Just one slightly weird hello in passing with a random will leave her cringing for days. I decide to step in. If I don't Bailey will bitch endlessly and it's not like I'm doing anything worthwhile at the moment. I straighten up in my seat and look over my shoulder, momentarily forgetting that I'm not wearing a shirt. I try not to let the pair register the shock on my face but I'm sure it's useless. Standing in our living room in a white v neck tshirt and black jeans is Charlie Thompson. Charlie is a sweet guy I've known since freshman year. We don't exactly roll in the same crowd but he's well liked and it's always good to see him. Except maybe now. When I look like a prostitute in an old red velvet bra that my friends and I often laugh about. I look around for my shirt but it's no where to be found. I sneak a peek at Bailey who's trying to articulate about a million things through her eyes. I'm too frazzled to try to interpret. I know that if I get up and run into my room Bailey will kill me so I have no choice but to stay there, outside, without a shirt on and make conversation.

"Hey Noe! Whatcha doin out there?" Charlie laughs a little. He is the first to break the awkwardness that I have established from just staring-without clothes on. He is a very cute guy. Definitely attractive, but not really my type. Maybe too quiet. He is however, everything Bailey dreams about in a man. He's kind of sensitive, he's smiley and wear rings. The wearing of rings means he likes to express himself according to Bailey. He's in a Maroon 5 knock off band and has long curly brown hair that sweeps his face and complements his tan skin and green eyes.

"Your eyes match!" Is what I decide to say. I have no idea why something so strange comes out of my mouth nor do I know why I decided to yell it.

Bailey looks at me like I've lost my mind and she and Charlie exchange a look. "Ha, yeah we do kind of have the same color eyes, Charlie." Bailey says sweetly, while trying to move the attention away from me.

"Nice observation, Noe." Charlie says in my direction. He's doesn't look away from Bailey though.

"Ha yeah, sorry for my appearance. It's hot out here!" I again regret what comes out of my mouth. I need to shut up, I need to leave. I'm not sure what my problem is. They both look at me again. "I'm sorry, it's painfully obvious that I needed to stay in bed for a couple more hours." They laugh and I realize that the only way I might be able to salvage myself from further humiliation is bolt. "I might just do that."

I look around again for my shirt and luckily find it. Now covered in dirt. I throw it on in a way that I hope doesn't attract too much attention. I don't think it does because Charlie and Bailey are back into conversation and don't seem to notice the freakshow in the backyard anymore. I say goodbye to Charlie's back and duck into the direction of my bedroom but not before sticking my tongue out at Bailey. She smiles teasingly at me and give her a dorky thumbs up and do a little jig. Because the gods are getting such a kick out of my morning, at that exact moment Charlie turns around to see what Bailey is looking at. He catches me, thumbs up, legs outstretched in the most awkward way imaginable. I straighten up immediately, laugh awkwardly and book it to my room before I can do more damage to my reputation. I can't wait until Charlie reports back to his friends of our odd exchange. Happy Weekend.

Maybe, Noe

A Glittered Up Human Chain

I can tell it was going to be a good night. It's Thursday which always generates buzz amongst the upperclassmen in my little college and it's the last one before Spring Break. Many people have been drinking since the morning and most have no plans to stop.

Keslee and I buzz around our room excitedly trying to find the perfect outfits, in heavy anticipation of the night ahead. All of my housemates plan to play Kings Cup with vodka. This is simultaneously the best and worst idea we've had in a long time.

Pacing back and fourth between my closet and dresser, I'm finding it hard to find inspiration on what to wear. I feel blah. There are only so many times I could try on the same plain black dress. It still looks the same- bad. So I go to my last resort. When I'm feeling boring and hopeless, I often turn to lingerie. To me there is nothing better. Many times before going out, I slip into a lacy bra and boyshorts or a risque nighty just because. To be honest though, the only thing naughty about me and my lingerie is the price tags on them. I have a reasonably extensive collection for someone who doesn't actually use any of it...for its purpose. The only people who ever see me in these get ups are my roommates. Lucky them.

Nevertheless, putting on lingerie before going out always makes me feel giddy and a little glamourous. So I pull on one of my more out there numbers. Keslee, who sees me do this on a regular basis glances at me but doesn't look surprised. She gives me a little cat call and I act embarrassed. We laugh at this exchange and suddenly I hear the click clack of heels heading in the direction of my room. My body tenses for just a moment. I can tell it's Miranda by the way her walk sounds. It's curiously heavy for such a small girl. Keslee and I exchange a quick look because we know what's coming.

"Why are you wearing that?" Miranda asks me without so much as a hello. She eyes me up and down in a way that is not so much unkind, just a little intrusive.

"For fun," I answer while going about my business of applying eyeliner.

"Hmm," she shifts her focus to Keslee. "What do you think? Too much?" She gestures to her outfit and waits impatiently for Keslee to answer. She's wearing a sky high nude heals and a white high waisted skirt and denim off the shoulder top. Her radiant blond hair is piled high on the top of her head in a messy bun. The result is flawless, she looks like shes ready for a fashion shoot. Albeit, the whole thing is a little over the top, especially for a night at a shitty dive bar, but Miranda can pull it off because she is over the top. The heels and hair adds miles to Miranda's already tall frame and she towers over Keslee in a way that would make most girls insecure. Kelsee isn't most girls though, she has killer confidence and is capable of noting Miranda's beauty without comparing it to her own.

"Yes, yes," she says nodding, "very cute. Help me with mine?" Her dark eyes light up like a child's. Miranda is pleased enough with this answer and starts to rummage through the piles of clothes Keslee has made on her bed.

"I may just bite the bullet and wear my new Free People top" I say to no one in particular.

"Yes! You should. So cute," Madison says without commitment. I know that she's not really paying 
attention. She is busy staring at herself in the mirror beside Keslee's bed. Her long legs are stretched out 
in front of her at she sits on the bed gazing. I imagine that the thoughts going through her head are a

circle of herself and her boyfriend. Her vacant expression creates the perfect picture, she looks like a doll 
sprawled out of the bed. Something makes her snap out of her trance suddenly and she smiles kindly at me.
The three of us debate about my outfit for the next couple of minutes and I finally come to a decision soon 
after.

Bailey hops into the room, her read hair wooshing around her and grabs my hand. I can see in her green eyes 
that she has already made her way into the vodka.

"Lesss goooo" she says smiling thickly. "Lesss doooo this." I laugh at her. Upon immediate consumption of 
alcohol, it becomes obvious that she is intoxicated. Her eyes become sleepy and happy, her speech 
is the next to go. I grab Miranda's hand before Bailee can pull me away and she quickly grabs Keslee's. 
We make our way to the living room. A glittered up, human chain. We look ridiculous. We look like 
kids. Ginna snaps a picture as we make our way into the room. Her goose like laughter drowning out
the sounds of the ipod.

Maybe, Noe