I don't really feel like writing, but I don't want to do my homework... so I shall write anyway.
The past 2 weeks have not been very pleasant. From fights involving Charles, Laura, Andre, Scott, and me to being sick again, accompanied by an awful headache & miserable academic performance, I've been unhappy with myself and frustrated. Unfortunately, thrown into the mix? My grandfather died on Tuesday. There's so much I want to say about it and about him, but I just don't have the energy, nor do I feel that I want to share it with the entire world, so I shall not. It has hit me harder than I expected, but even when death is expected, it is inevitably unexpected in some way or another.
R.I.P. Richard Henry Culberson
October 22, 1922 to February 19, 2008
So, the highlights of these past few weeks have been granted by a random moment here and there, but mostly by the company of a Sir Scott.
We hung out again last night. Things did not go as planned, so we started off being a bit merrr. Then we hung out for a while. And then he got really frustrated about annoyed with something so we pretty much sat in silence for 45 minutes. He indulged himself in a nice little concoction of Grenadine, Sprite, & Vodka...heavy on the Vodka. And by heavy....I mean...about 6 or 7 shots to the maybe 2 or 3 shots total of the gren&sprite combined. Halfway through it, we kinda worked things out and were alright. Then at about 11:04, he downed the entire glass, which was still about half-full at that point. After setting the glass back down he said, "In about 5 minutes....I am going to be...very drunk, " (he had earlier preceded this with a few bottles of Mike's Hard Lemonade). It didn't take 5 minutes.
It took 4.
My goodness he was hilarious. We hung out for the next 30 minutes with his drunkenness. Then we headed to my car. It was about 35° outside & he was wearing a thin white tshirt & jeans. Oh, and sunglasses. At 12:15 am. I told him he was an idiot. He said, "I'm from Michigan. This is nothin'." We took the stairs to the second floor. He started singing...well...booming...in the stairwell. As we were walking down the hallway to the elevator on the second floor, he began singing again...louder. Especially when we got to Laura's room. He walked right up to the door and kept singing. I can't recall if he knocked or not. I was embarrassed and quickly walked ahead. Then he fiddled with the door and eventually walked dumbly down the hall. He wasn't bad outside and we chilled at my car for a moment. Then he started fooling around and being an idiot and I about died laughing. Eventually I left. As I pulled up to the stop sign, he was almost to the end of the other side of the road in the apartment building parking lot. I looked in my rearview mirror before I turned.... he was skipping down the road. I'm not talking Sally-Flower-Child skipping. I'm talking... Fred Astaire & Ginger Rogers skipping. All out. Side to side. It was on of the funniest things I had ever seen.
& Then on the drive home I was cruising with a B-E-A-UTIFUL Lamborghini. Twas marvelous. Then I went home. Dished about a quarter of a gallon of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream into a bowl & went to bed. The end.
Today, I slept, emptied the dishwasher, and did a little homework. I'm a slacker. Oh well.
I am, however, incredibly sore! Like...every inch of me. It hurts to move. Hmmmm. And I have a variety of bruises, but I know what those are from. Jerk. =P
Yay for a week of hell.
--Kanzzz
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