Got called a bitch to my face by the brilliant roommate a few weeks ago. Nothing new for me, no biggie. I laughed. I mean, coming from a girl who is filthy, stupid, and can drink a case of Red Bull in 2 days... yeah. Doesn't really phase me. Plus I *might* have instigated it a bit. Just a little. She's an imbecile. I couldn't help it. I WAS THE VICTIM, PEOPLE.
But that is actually not what I'm referencing.
Saturday night we went to an ABC party. ABC = Anything But Clothes. Boyfrand wore a box and was a dick. In a box. Another friend wore a shower curtain toga. Two others wore paper bags and trash bags = paper and plastic which was the cutest thing EVER as they are married and adorable. Me? I wasn't going to wear anything but my yoga pants and a hoodie. Fuck those guys. Fuck that party. Fuck anything but yoga pants. Then suddenly I got the urge to wear a cape. (I mean, who doesn't at random?) The cape turned out to be a dinosaur towel around my neck which was over a bathing suit top/fishnet shirt, red tutu, and finally - leggings. I consider none of those items to be actual clothes, so I won. I then proceeded to be fantastically bitchy in my towel/bathing suit/fishnet/leggings/tutu masterpiece, along with one of my good friends who had an entire bottle of sparkling wine. By. Herself. Like. A. Boss. At one point I decided to play dumb about the fact that if 'champagne' isn't from the specific province Champagne in France it is not real champagne- but sparkling wine. The gentleman proceeded to explain to me that yes, this was a truth and I proceeded to tilt my head to the side and say something to the effect of 'So champagne is a drink AND a place??' Your 'wordly' knowledge of the origins of alcohol doesn't impress me. Soz. It was about 1/3 of the way through the sparkling wine (from Australia, where there is no province of Champagne) that she informed me I am a diva. I blinked for a moment but before I could think about it, she explained to me why. I don't like outside. I don't like being hot. I like having my nails done. I like having kickass hair. I enjoy being pretty (and modest, am I right...). And you know what - she is fucking spot on. I skipped archery class last week because it was going to be 80* that day, and class is outside. No. Thank. You. I was also concerned about breaking a nail in archery, so I found the special 3-fingered glove things and naturally fretted about it until I did so. If something requires me to sweat, I'm opting out. And if there is potential for my hair to get messed up- forget it. Furthermore, I don't like puke, poop, or dealing with things which have the potential to do either.
I am completely okay with this assessment, and it wasn't made in the tone of 'You know what's wrong with you?' but in the tone of 'You are this and I love you for it.' Let me just say it's really nice to find new people who feel this way about me. It's nice to know that I have new people coming into my life who I can consider real friends. And not just because she labeled me in the same category as Beyonce, Diana Ross or Aretha Franklin- but because she puts forth an effort to know me. Just between new home, new job, shitty roommate, and frustrating circumstances, it's nice to have someone extra along who not only gets you but likes you FOR you.
Besides Boyfrand of course. He's required to. Or I will cut him.
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