Jennifer

I haven't done enough charity work and have missed some meetings, so I'm not allowed go to my sorority's formal this weekend.. I wasn't planning on going anyway because my guyfriends and I intended to drive to New Orleans for Mardi Gras. That fell through....

Who would I have taken to formal anyway? I guess I could've asked the guy I'm sleeping with, Cape. Inviting him to a sorority event might frighten him. He would've hated it anyway.

God, Cape's such a find. He's like some obscure band's awesome cd I randomly stumbled upon and couldn't stop listening to. The album you never get sick of... the one I can listen to in any mood, any day because it makes me smile. All the other boys I've banged have been abominable rap songs-- the kind you can only enjoy when you're drunk and ready to fuck. Well, all the other boys were bad rap songs with the exclusion of Max. He was a jazz song, the kind I never seem to understand and can't dance to. He was the bass-piano-saxophone trio in a smokey bar that I got kicked out of. He was the foreign musician whose name I mispronounced. He was the vinyl record I lost then cried about.

My lease is running out, and I'm scrambling for new roommates. Or apartment-mates I should say, because I'd never share an actual bedroom with another person. (How are you supposed to have FightClub-style sex with someone sleeping in the next bed?)

Right, so at the moment I live with two uptight bitches who leave me sassy notes on the refridgerator when I forget to fill up the ice tray. Let's just say we do not plan on sharing an apartment (or anything at all) ever again.

I've got a few options:

1. I could live at the sorority house. Or I could throw myself into oncoming traffic.

2. I could live alone, but this is super expensive and not that fun. And kindof scary.

2. I could live with this chick Hailey but I don't know her that well, and she could turn out to be pyscho. Girls are like that. You think you know them, then a few months later, BAM hellooo craziness. (I am not like this. I promise...)

3. This is why I'm thinking that I could live with these two guy friends of mine. But the boy I'm sexing up is good friends with them, and he kinda wants to live with them too. There's no way we'd all live together, as living with anyone you'd date is a disastrous idea. Now I'm beginning to think that even living with people he's good friends with might turn out to be awkward later on because I actually like this one.

Gross, I'm getting sorta attached. I used to never do this*. Shit, whatever happened to the assertive, bitchtastic me that just fucked boys then fucked them over? I used to be so much cooler. I'm losing my edge.

*There was this musician Max that I kinda sorta crushed on, but we're just going to pretend he died or something, preferably suicide.

Let me sum up my Valentine's Day for you:

Good news:
A boy sent me a single red rose and a nice note!
Bad News:
He is a lame douche*, and he lives in Georgia.

*Lame doucheyness balanced out by extreme hotness and really big, um, heart. Whatever he still lives in Georgia, and he kindof makes me nauseas.

Good news:
Cape brought me wine.
Bad news:
The entire 1.5 liter bottle cost $6.

Good news:
We went down town dressed to the nines to hear Vox Trot, a local band I adore.
Bad news:
Shortly after paying cover, the bouncer kicked me out for underage drinking, then I cried.

Good news:
Cape liked his card listing all reasons that I like him.
Bad news:
I think it's kindof not really reciprocated at all, and that's painthetic (painful + pathetic). Emotions suck and should be drowned to death... in vodka.

Oh, and since this is, after all, a sorority girl blog, I should probably add this--

Bad news:
I think my entire sorority hates me.
Good news:
I don't really care.

I searched for some cartoons and comics to describe to you my life experiences with Valentine's Day. I had to draw some of them myself.

Jennifer's Valentines' Days through the ages:
J Patt's elementary school Valentine's Day

I was a creative child. I liked lace doilies, excessive glitter, and, yes, one year I glued a picture of a llama on a valentine. No, really I'm not even kidding.

Here's what I probably did for Valentine's at age 14:

(toothpastefordinner.com)

J Patt in high school:

five minutes later...

freshmen year of college:

(toothpastefordinner.com)

future?

juuuuuuuuuuust kidding

or let's be serious-- I'll probably become a crazy old cat lady.

ahhhh I hate cats! but I looove candy! I wish I could find my "MAKE LOVE, NOT WAR" shirt. Whatever happened to that?

MMMMMM I'm gonna drive to the mall and buy myself some sour belts.

Wow, was it ever a rough weekend. Let's see, Friday's events (which I won't bother explaining) upset me greatly, so naturally I drank my troubles away. Yes, I downed eleven shots of vodka which resulted in me crouching over a toilet, vomitting, dropping my cell phone into the vomit, then passing out cold on Cape's couch. Now when I say passing out cold, I don't mean I just fell asleep drunk. I mean I was completely UNCONSCIOUS. If this isn't turning you on enough, let me add this small detail: in my state of unconsciousness, I peed the couch. Yes, I peed all over Cape's $1,800 couch. My car isn't even worth $1,800.

I went over with cleaning supplies to help him out. Scrubbing those cushions with him was probably one of the most awkward experiences of my life. He was completely silent, and I was trying not to burst into tears. You see, with any other friend I would've laughed it off, but with Cape everything's different. Probably because he's my quasi-boyfriend.
For those of you scratching your heads at the word 'quasi', let me help you out.

quasi
adj : To some degree; in some manner; having some resemblance; "a quasi success"; "a quasi contract"; "Jennifer peed on the couch of her quasi boyfriend."
synonyms: almost, near, partly, would-be

Basically he acts just like a boyfriend would, but for whatever reason he refuses to actually be in an official relationship. Maybe he wants to sleep with other girls. Maybe I frighten him. Honestly, I don't know/want to know. But let's just say pissing on his expensive couch probably didn't help anything.

He'll come around. He told me he can't stay mad at his pet. I found it kindof creepy that he called me his pet, but then he pointed out that I often bite him and, after all, I did just pee his couch.