All-Classes Eve

Here we are, on the eve of our classes; our officiation into sophomorism (which is, apparently, a sly insult to our intelligence) riding the rising sun along the backside of the earth. Here we are, on this most unholy of evenings, when who should stick his neck in the door but our elusive suitemate, Vladimir Wipidowski. Alan and Chaz are playing XBox, but are torn away from the game by Vlad's sudden appearance. It is not until I hear his doltish "Hallo" that I put my book down to investigate.

Vlad shakes my hand with moronic enthusiasm, then proceeds to search the suite. I ask him where he's been, and he levels us with his answer. I have tried my best to recall it verbatim.

"I met very soft girl, Lily, at airport. We split cab. I help her carry things. I sleep over." You should keep in mind that this took upwards of a full minute to say, complete with all the various Vladiosyncracies like "Ehhhh," "I uhhh" and the incorrigible "You know?"

He then asks if any packages had arrived for him. Chaz, for whatever reason, has to retrieve it from his own room. He hasn't even bothered to re-seal the box; I'll have to ask him what was inside.

Vlad takes his box under one arm, salutes us with his free hand, and begins marching out the door. Alan asks where he's going, to which Vlad responds, "Lily. I sleep over, and over," before closing the door behind him.

All I can say is that I'm not complaining. The fewer bodies we have in this suite, the happier I am.

That is all.

Arrival

Betrayed by my own townsfolk..... is there no such thing as loyalty? Brotherhood?

I woke up, I said goodbye, I drove to Alan's house. Everything was going great, then, twenty minutes into our drive, I hear a sound I thought I would never hear: WOOP-WOOOP went the police car, and "Aww fuck!" went the Alfonzo.

82 MPH in a 65 MPH zone. My first ticket for anything, and he wouldn't let me off with a warning. Eighty-two!! I had not yet begun to speed! That fool, if he had only waited another twenty minutes, it would have be a 37 MPH violation, instead of a piddling 17. Cobb County, I spit on you and your law enforcement. Perhaps if you had been "design"ed more "intelligent"ly, you would know that I was not speeding; I was warming up.

To add to that, this is Alan's first time in the passenger seat of my chariot, so he gets a completely skewed view of my driving abilities. He tells me that maybe we should switch, for the first leg of the trip, so I could have time to cool off. I cranked the A/C and said I was cool enough, then crawled out of Georgia at 65 before blasting through Tennessee at 80.

Kentucky and Illinois saw triple digits.

Fuck you, Cobb County.

Fuck the police.

That is all.

The Great Escape

I have to get the HELL out of here. Between my family, my bonehead highschool friends, and the Pleasantville monotony of my neighborhood (and the one next to it, and the one next to that one), I can't wait to get the hell out of dodge (read : Alpharetta; See also : Bumblefuck, GA). If it wasn't so important to have a second driver, I'd save the 45 minutes it'll take to pick Alan up and just drive straight up like a bat out of hell. And I'm sure as hell not going to put up with any granny-style driving from that meek piss-ant of a suitemate!

(deep breaths)

Alright.... I am fine now....

As irritating as I find Vlad, I'm starting to wonder what he'll do when he lands and finds that nobody is waiting for him. I sent him back a somewhat rude but incredibly clear text message, and I've yet to hear back from him. I'm thinking maybe I sent it after he got on the plane. How long is the flight from Russia, anyway? Any transfers expected? Give me some details, Vlad!

Alan, I want to make it clear that I don't think of you as a "piss-ant". That was the rage talking. For your own sake, while we're on the road, don't make the rage talk again.

Why am I wasting my precious sleep on this?

That is all.

Death shall result

I don't know what time it is in Russia but it's SLEEP-O-CLOCK here, which is why I'm incredibly irritated by the text message I just recieved.

Al D - Plane Lands Saturday, 12:31 PM CST. You have car? -Vlad

Yes, Vlad, "I have car," but I'll be hard-pressed to get up there by noon, unless I leave home at 4 AM.

Someone had better be able to deal with this, and I had better not get a $30 phone bill because of some text message from Petrograd.

That is all.

A Return To Blogging

It's been a long time, Internet. A very long time, indeed. It seems only yesterday that I cursed you, cut you out of my life, sent you packing Gloria Gaynor-style. I thought I would never again wander into the mire of weblogs, that chorus of cacophony maintained solely by my least favorite demographic : my own.

But the fates have spun my thread tightly around a T1 line, and I feel only certain doom can await.

My unhallowed return to the weblogging community is being spurred by my roommate, Chaz. He seems to think that, between the four of us in this suite, we can scrape a flake of meaning off of the ball-sacks that are our lives. Our oblivious friend, Vladimir, has warmed to the task already, though it can be assumed that he does not fully understand what is going on; there's a good chance he'll simply forget to keep posting. Not that his life is very interesting.

Not that mine is either, but.... well, his writing leaves grammar to be desired.
Tip to all incoming freshmen : Before befriending a foriegn student, carefully monitor their ability to use the language of this nation.

That is all.