It started out really well. I went to the Boardwalk, where I found I can consistently full-combo Genom Screams Double Heavy on a crappy pad, and that I can do Orion.78 (civilization), Healing Vision ~Angelic~, and Paranoia Survivor, one after another. And I met a girl about my age there, she's been playing DDR for a while and is in independent study. Neat.
I came back to catch my roomies, all of whom had just come back from a party totally drunk, and proceeded to go up to someone's room a floor up - I decided to follow them, but when I found out they had just gone to get even more drunk and stoned, I left and just mulled around for the rest of the evening. Christie went along with the crowd, though, had way too much to drink, and ended up making out for hours with the guy next to her. God damn it.
The next morning I found out that she had slept with numerous people in my hall since we moved in less than a month ago. Makes me feel pretty fucking shallow. I was categorized as one of those sex-crazed guys that was only trying to get in her pants. She felt really bad about herself, though, so being a nice person, I comforted her and told her that maybe she shouldn't party as hard anymore. I don't know if I should have done that, though. She needs "love" because she didn't get it as a child. I understand that, I know people like that, but she's easily attached to people and that's a bad thing.
Everyone on my hall ended up getting totally smashed again the next night, while I just stayed in my room and tried to work on an essay. I was invited to go watch a show on VH1 done by Camp Chaos, which I fondly remember as the guys who did the "Napster Bad" cartoons, and I found out that this guy, Jeff, is also a web designer/composer/animator/etc. That was a highlight.
But then I tried going to sleep and somewhere around 4AM, my roommate stumbled into the room, shining his red keychain light in my face, and turned on the microwave for 5 minutes with NOTHING IN IT while he tried leaning on furniture and failing, and passing out on the floor.
Today was spent mostly trying to write my essay. It's basically a big ol' book report. I certainly don't like it. In the meantime, my roommate and friends went downtown to buy really tacky posters about pimps and shot glasses. And then I sat down to write this thing. Everyone feel sorry for me, okay?