Jenna's House of Idiosyncrasies Version 10.0 [Focus.]

Friday, my plan was to quietly eat my dinner, and wait around until someone else found me something to do. This is how I begin many Friday nights. Sooner than expected, the Indian rang up me up, inviting me to come hang with him at the rockstar's birthday, at an establishment offering two things: pizza, but more importantly, beer. Afterwards, I went home to change (or, as the Indian would put it, to “pimp out”), and on returning to what was left of the party, got roped into a scheme that involved sneaking alcohol into the dorms and making fun of 18 year olds for not being able to take shots. It reminded me of being 18, when the Indian and I were usually sneaking alcohol into the dorms and making fun of people for not being able to take shots. It was the same except I felt a lot older.

After the Indian spent some time recounting some stories of when I was less aware of my own tolerance (“So we're in Helen, and Jenna here proceeds to drink a whole huge bottle of—”) we headed back downtown, ending up at Half Moon Pub, practically underneathe my house. It was mostly uneventful, though tons of fun. We closed the place down, and headed out to the street. The Indian decided to do a good deed and escort one particularly drunk girl to her home and promised to be back at my place within the hour.

I headed upstairs, washed my face, took off my pimp clothes, and put on my pajamas. I conversed with my roommate Emily and her guests for a few minutes, and then sat down on the couch to watch a DVD while I waited for the Indian to turn back up. I had not been sitting on the couch for more than two minutes when my cell phone rang.

“Jenna, it's Gumby. We're in deep shit, we need your help.”

I won't go into the gory details, but Gumby needed me to take himself and M to the jail to bail out a friend. I called the Indian, told him I was going to have to leave him in town, because I had to go. “NO! Don't leave without me!” he commanded. “I'm running. I'll be right there.” He proceeded to run many, many blocks to get back to my apartment, and the four of us headed to my car and out to the jail. It was about 3:30 AM.

We won't talk about the passenger who almost got sick in my car, or how sloppy I looked having thrown on a wrinkled dress shirt over my pajamas, or the maneuver I pulled in the middle of Lexington Road to get us back to our turn. These are all things you will have to ask my passengers about.

I will say the Indian and I spent a better part of the next hour waiting in the parking lot while Gumby went and dealt with the justice system of ACC, coaxing our sickly drunk friend M into standing, walking around, and at one point we even convinced her to do jumping jacks. Jumping. Freaking. Jacks. Much later Gumby's father showed up, and Gumby dismissed us, asking us to take M home and thanking us for our help.

I nearly forgot the way to M's house (this was no so good, because she had completely passed out at that point) but relying on my gut, I got us there. When attempting to get her out of the car, she repeated told us to “fuck off” and that she “wasn't fucking moving”, but with much more pronounced sluriness. We spent a long time making her eat bread and drink water, and then got her into bed. It was just after 5:30 AM.

“Waffle House. We need some Waffle House.”

Starving and exhausted, the Indian and I gobble down way to much fat and salt at the Epps Bridge Road Waffle House, and I drive us home. Gumby calls to let us know that his friend is finally bailed out, and that he owes me 1 thousand, 1 million.

“Well, I'll keep that in mind, I'll hit you up.”

“Even if you need me to pose nude for a sketch, I would do that, just for you.”

“Um, thanks dude.”

I was supposed to go with my roommate Melissa the next day to a show in South Carolina, but before I finally went to sleep I totally wrote her a note punking out. After the night I had, I explained, I was totally not up to it. She was very understanding about the whole thing, but I feel terrible because I did something that is a huge sore spot with me (punking out at the last minute) to someone else.

I slept til 3:00 PM while the Indian watched almost every Disney movie we have in the house. Finally he forced me out of bed, and after running a few errands and sitting around the house awhile, we went to a movie—The Forgotten. I do not recommend it. Only the first half of it is any good, and once you see the end coming about halfway through, you spend a lot of time waiting for it to be over. It did have one small redeeming factor—the utter hotness of Dominic West as the rough but charming alcoholic.

Later, after dissecting the movie to bits, going home, eating some dinner, and dressing to the nines, the Indian and I joined Chris Brown, Neil, and their respective crües at All Good, and quickly moved to Copper Creek.

At Copper Creek we easily had one of the weirdest nights of drinking ever. I believe this was partially facilitated by the $1 shots being offered from midnight to 1 AM. It began simply enough, people at tables, socializing. I ran into Matty P, who has moved to Boone and was randomly in town visiting, in the same bar I was in. I kissed Chris Brown's girlfriend. Another woman tried to undress me. I got insanely jealous of a unnamed party, which got me down for awhile. An extended while. Then we all walked back to (Chris Brown's girlfriend) Lindsey's apartment.

The Indian, my official bodyguard, was taken in a bit by the wiles of one young woman, and that is basically how I came to be walking home by myself from Chris's girlfriend's house at 5:30 in the morning.

I'm not broken up about it. It's bound to happen every once in a while.

I'm climbing up the hill that is Lexington Road, sipping water, just a little drunk and heading to the Grill for some pre-bed breakfast. A random young man pulls into the drive ahead of me in a little red car, and actually attempts to speak to me.

“Hey girl, come'ere.”

As you can imagine, I was charmed.

“No!”

“Come'ere, just for a second.”

“No! Go home!”

Now, as we all know, I am prone to make light of even serious situations. While I was firing back with my pimptastic attitude, internally I could not make light of this. I didn't panic, but I could see that me on the street and this guy sitting 10 feet away in his car with not another soul in sight was not a definitely not a good thing. I started booking it into downtown proper, with him calling after me.

After I was well within sight (and earshot) of the city workers clearing sidewalks of evidence of post-game partying, I looked behind me. I wasn't being followed. I begin walking double time in the direction of the Grill, happy to avoid having been kidnapped, and there was the potential serial killer again, ahead sitting at the intersection next to Tastyworld, watching me. I walked past the headlights with my head held high, maintaining a holier-than-thou strut, which actually just came naturally in that situation. The bastard actually calls out to me again.

“Hey girl, come'ere.”

“No!”

“Just for a second, please?”

I don't even turn around as I declare over my shoulder, “You need to go home. It ain't happenin'.” I wave my hand dimissively and keep walking.

A little tip for any young men who may be wondering: cruising around for a date at 5:30 in the morning doesn't exactly exemplify outstanding character, so don't be offended when the ladies turn you down.

I made it to the Grill, unharmed and unafraid, ordered some food and chatted with Matt, who manages most of the night shifts. He looked tired, closing out the register for the shift, a long strip of register tape moving through his hand. They had obviously done a copious amount of business that night.

“Hey Matt, how're you?”

“I'm beat, how about yourself? Did you hafta work tonight?”

“Nope, I just got caught up in a lot of drama.”

“Oh man, that's the worst. Do I ever feel for you.”

This weekend has been pretty rockin'. Arlington Priest played 106 West on Friday and dedicated a song to the Tollersons, at which point Sarah and myself almost fainted like fangirls.

Not really, but we sure sounded like we were going to, being all gushy.

Saturday I went to a party and got to hang out with the nicest man in the world, Matt Anthony. We ended up at the Waffle House and hilarity ensued.

Today, I slept. All. Day.

This is a bad job, except that I finally feel rested for the first time in at least a week.

Now I'm using Bailey's to lull myself back to sleep. We'll see how that works.

The weekend was good.

On Friday I went with a group to see My Big Fat Greek Wedding. See this movie. I command you. So funny, and so sweet. And totally makes you wish you were Greek.

Saturday, I went to lunch with my dad, and then I got a new watch battery and new shoelaces! If you have ever been a starving student, you understand how thrilling it is to be able to afford things you actually need. My shoelaces were falling apart, and obviously, my watch had stopped. I also got some Dr. Martens's leathercare and now my shoes look {almost} like new. Yey!!

Davistreet played at 106 West in the evening, and then me and my crüe convorted around Winder, visiting both Waffle House and Walmart. That's what there is to do in Winder. But it's fun.

Today I rehearsed my numbers for next week's Christmas program. Everyone come out!!! There are going to be lots of special guests. Then my fam drove me back to school, and here I am.

Classes tomorrow, 2 finals on Friday, then one more on the 17th. Just gotta push through this last stretch.

Off to get my beauty sleep!!!

P.S. Evolution Box Set — IwantthisIwantthisIwanthis.

Friday: Showing your sister the cool sights in your home town is fun. Even buying her stuff when you have no money makes you feel all warm and fuzzy.

Saturday: I want to have Veblen's baby. I am still fond of the Waffle House, no matter what. The new 987 (yet to be officially christened) is small and missing some people but quieter and more like a home than a party house. I actually got to talk to people. It was really nice.

Sunday: Surfed around pointlessly while at work, ate a pot roast dinner with my family and watched the first hour of The Wizard of Oz, complete with commentary. Came back to Athens, went to Locos with my partner in crime Melissa to see the darling and talented Scott Little perform. Socialized with him and his sweet girlfriend Michelle, and then came home and recapped for you fine people.

The weekend helped. I'm feeling much better about things. And now, a two-day week, and then my sister, and Thanksgiving with the whole fam. I am so ready.