As with most of my weekends, I went out and spent too much money and had more fun than I deserve.
Friday, Sarah played a GMIA Open Mic at Washingston Street Tavern. Sarah swept away the competition, of course, but that is no surprise. What was surprising was how damn cool Washington Street Tavern is. I bonded with one of the bartenders, Zack, and ended up going back Saturday night, taking the Indian with me. Zack made me a drink of his own creation, a Grape Juice, which while tasting exactly like grape juice does not contain any grape juice but does contain a shitload of tequila.
This drink is awesome.
We called up various peoples trying to get a group together, and while many people shut us down (turns out it was a low key night for everyone?) we did manage to rope in Abie and Sabrina, who demanded to actually be mentioned by name in these pages next time.
Are you happy? You are totally in now.
Suffice it to say, the Indian did not come home with me that night.
I stayed late, talking to Zack, who is seriously hilarious, and then I walked my drunk ass home. After changing into my pajamas I made a sandwich and a large glass of water and sat at our new kitchen table forcing Melissa to listen to stories of my night. Melissa always, always claims to be amused. I say she is just infinitely patient.
I slammed five huge glasses of water before climbing into bed, and had some very off dreams about boys I have made out with/would like to make out with. I don't remember the details, so I guess in that respect it was very much like real life.
Zing!
Sunday was slow. I tried to study for my art history test on Monday, but without Abie as my study partner I mostly stared at the slides and went, “Huh?”
When she finally got home from work we went over to Blue Sky and Abie proceeded to carefully lecture me on Bystantine Art History, like so:
“Anyway, we are not talking about masturbation, we're talking about God.”
...
“Abie, he was nine when he was presented to the temple. I know this because—” I break out in uncontrollable laughter as I finish, “—because I am a very devout Christian.”
“Me too!”
Now neither of us can stop laughing. “I am the epitome of a good Christian.” Hysterical laughter follows. “Man, we are so about to be struck down by lightening.”
“Hasn't happened yet!”
...
“In this one, Jesus doesn't have a cock, because, you know, is he a man or a God?”
...
“Okay Jenna, why is the Virgin decorating all the altar apse post-iconoclasm?”
“Because she proves his humanity—that it's okay to depict Jesus because he was on earth, he was once a man.”
Abie gestures emphatically. “That's right! Mary popped Jesus out of her coochamarang!”
We both break out in disorderly hysterics. “I can't believe you just said that about Holy Mary Mother of God.”
“Well it's true!”
You are reading the life, times, and general musings of Jenna Tollerson. I am an independent web developer living in and around Athens, Georgia, USA. [read more]