Last night, I was settling in to the couch clean, fed, remote in hand when my new roommate Jen's phone rang. She'd been with me running the touch tank all day, and was just as wiped out, but the obviously inebirated person on the phone reminded her that she'd promised to make an appearance at the cookout. She said maybe and hung up then proceded to try to convince me to come too.
"We'll get dressed and go for like an hour. Come have one beer with us. I won't last any longer than that either," she said.
Hmmm, this sounds familiar, I thought to my self, but "OK, one hour."
So we went, and I was really glad. I finally got a chance to talk to a lot of people that I've seen around but never really introduced myself to. Next thing I knew, I was being dragged into a game of flip cups by two married men whose sober wives were not terribly entertained by their behavior and wanted to go home. This is apparently the drinking game of choice among the grad students, and I am quite terrible at it. Luckily I was driving so I had an excuse not to get too roudy. After finding a replacement for my team and assuring them that I knew that this did not count as a proper initiation, they let me quit at the end of the first round. I joined the other drivers in a discussion of the old cartoon Jem in which we decided that everything should from now on be described as truly truly outrageous. Around 1 am, I finally had my two drunken roommates in the car (after a small fight with one of them about whether she was too drunk to drive home) and my battery decided that it was time to show off it's favorite trick. It was a small inconvenience as I too have my tricks, but no fun at 1 am. Needless to say, the shopping trip originally planned for today did not happen and I'll be living out of my luggage for another week. Maybe next weekend, I'll venture into College Park to go to Ikea and see Moose.
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