slow it down.

The bus ride home was extremely crowded today. The driver had to keep pulling up to stops, hoping people would exit, then have to tell everyone outside they would have to wait for the next bus. When I finally made it to my stop (which I almost missed because no one would let me off…) I heard all this yelling. I looked towards the intersection and there was a crazy woman standing in front of the bus, not letting it pass. She was upset because she thought the bus was going to leave without her (she was probably right) and it was already incredibly late (fuck LA traffic). She literally stood with one hand on her hip and the other out in front of her, palm faced towards the bus in the universal stop sign. Even though the driver promised to let her on, she still wasn’t convinced and made him follow her across the street when the light turned green again. WTF Los Angeles?

School is driving me crazy. Too many presentations, too little time, and of course, no one even cares anymore. We’re seniors. Come on.

I bought the second book in the Twilight saga, but still haven’t read it. I wrapped it up in the bag so I can’t see it and be tempted to read it before the week is over.

Wednesday we went out to the Standard again. I hardly drank but still managed to get sick and throw up. I was hungover the next day and skipped class. Again. I need to stop going out on weeknights, but where’s the fun in that?

Friday was the first Halloween party. The boys downstairs had a party, so we all dressed up and went for a bit. I was a policewoman, Jime a sailor, Lindsay was Carmen San Diego, and Claire was Sarah Palin. A very diverse collection of costumes, right? We left that party because it was too crowded and went off in search of another party. We heard TKE’s Halloween party was that night, so Jime and I walked all the way to the row, only to find out they were at capacity. Ugh. ZBT was still open, so we joined the pajama party in Halloween apparel. The party was pretty lame. Saw some people I knew. Found a shoe. Put it on. Threw it away. Met some g’s. Made fun of sorority girls getting dry humped on the wall. Took a lot of pictures. Drank a lot and wasn’t hungover. Crazy.

Saturday was an adventure. I finally went to the vegan place, Pure Luck, off Vermont and Melrose. Amazing. The grilled tofu and pesto sandwich was one of the best things I’ve eaten all semester. We also went to Target to find a movie to watch slash buy useless stuff. Some random asian walked by me, then scared me half to death by abruptly asking, “Are you part asian?” “Yes.” “What kind?” “Half Japanese.” “You’re fucking adorable!” Ugh. I was not fucking adorable that day. I was broke down and wearing glasses. Creeper.

Jime and I stayed in that night and watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s. I adore it. I can’t believe I’ve never seen it before. It makes me want to go to New York. Or anywhere. Or have a day where I do things I’ve never done before. Or change my name and adopt another persona. Maybe I can do that after I graduate. hmm…

Random dream from a few nights ago: I was turned into a vampire and the other vampires convinced me to get a tattoo. When I looked in the mirror to see what they drew, I saw a sheep with a best buy tag on my fucking neck. I was so fucking upset when I woke up because I thought it really happened. Thank god it was just a dream. I think it’s a sign NOT to get a tattoo.

oh. and he called the other night to tell me not to go out with anyone because it will make him mad. he wants me to wait for him in case things don’t work out with her. ya.

third time’s a charm

It seems like no matter how hard I try to live drama free, it always finds me. With a vengeance, too.

I flew down to LA this weekend to help move out and clean Prov 13 with the roommates. Jamie and Diana’s room is a lot nicer than ours. It’s upsetting and I’ll have to figure out a way to gently tell them that it’s not ok before I freak out in a few months and everyone hates me. Remember, I’m trying to live drama free.

Jessica got us tickets to see the Soundtrack of Your Summer Tour with the Maine, Metro Station, Good Charlotte, and Boys Like Girls. Since we both wanted to get drunk for it, we decided to take the Metro to the Wiltern and back. We should have known that night was going to get bad when we got on the wrong train right from the beginning.  At least we met an interesting dude while we waited. He jokingly told us that we couldn’t pass and since we were buzzed, we stopped for lack of better knowledge. I ended up asking him questions about how to get to the Wiltern and he correctly guessed that we were on our way to see Good Charlotte. He did not look like the kind of person who would know anything about terrible pop punk bands, but then he started talking about how he used to be in a band that played with the Distillers. I think his name was Paulo…I should look that up to see how legit the conversation was.

The show was really fun. It was honestly the most fun I’ve had at a show in a long time. The Maine were adorable. Just adorable. I’m in love and I hate myself for being such a little fangirl.  Metro Station was terrible, so I ran to the bar to get us Long Islands. Bad idea. Bad, bad, idea. Good Charlotte was so fun. It reminded me so much of what it was like to be at my first show. I’m glad that I went, despite the fact that it is kind of embarassing to admit that I spent Saturday night hanging out with 15 year old girls.

Jessica and I left after GC because Boys Like Girls have absolutely no talent. I called Jimena to tell her we were on our way home and put my phone back in my purse. As we walked out the venue, I reached back in my bag to grab my phone, but to my dismay, it wasn’t there. Jessica went back in to look for it, but both of us were pretty fucked up, so looking for it in the middle of a show wasn’t really going to do anything. At that point, I fell apart. I hardly remember the trip home because I was crying and really fucking drunk. It took us 2.5 hours to get home because we couldn’t figure out the Metro.

I woke up Sunday morning confused as to why I was still wearing my clothes, then reality hit me. I stumbled out to the living room, (I was still drunk…) and screamed at Jime, sleeping on the couch, ‘I lost my phoooooooooone!’

She already knew. Apparently a girl texted and called her that she found my phone. I was supposed to call in the morning to make arrangements to pick the phone up. I was so relieved.

But I called and she didn’t answer. Not once. I left a scathing message. I cried. I laughed. I tried to forget about it. I tried to think positively. I left LA without a phone. Again.

I spent most of my day worrying about my phone. Was she going to sell it? How stupid could she be? I had her number. I could call LAPD. Every bad sitauation that could happen ran through my head over and over and over. I couldn’t concentrate on anything. There were times I almost burst into tears at work.

But somehow everything seemed to work out. She called Eric today and I was finally able to speak with her. She’s not going to keep my phone; she’s going to mail it back to me. This Metro Station fan I vilified to everyone all day was really a hardworking, fun-loving girl who wanted to help me. She lost her phone and had it returned to her, so he wanted to return the favor. My faith in humanity is restored. Well, for the day at least.

Things are so much better right now. I still feel terribly depressed, but at least my phone will be back soon. How will the other unnecessary drama in my life be resolved?