I'm house sitting for my boss, which apparently entails taking his dogs out to piss when they get all anxious at about seven in the morning. Today I managed to lock myself out in the cold with bare feet and no money. After checking the windows only to see they were all locked I retired to the back of his truck where I sat in a fetal position for about a half hour before one of the other tenants showed up and let me in the building. It sucked.
So a couple of days ago we hired a new girl at work. I was training her when an employee that's been there about as long as I have showed up. I introduced the new girl as "She's the new you, don't let the door hit your ass on the way out." I thought it was funny at the time, but two days later the old employee actually did get fired. Woops.
Tonight I went to what was most likely the lamest party I've been to in my life. It was a theme party, which is an immediate red flag indicating a consolidation of people who should be denied the privilege of reproduction. In a college town you'll encounter three main types of parties:
Ick. This was of the third variety illustrated, and though I don't recall hearing Outkast, they did have some shitty DJ spinning records while a girl sang over it through a microphone, rendering a kind of music which would have been referred to three decades ago as "disco," but now must be labeled, "an even shittier disco." The girl danced around the living room by herself while myself and a few other equally unenthusiastic guys sat down and took in the freakshow. I eventually braved the kitchen, which proved to be a mistake as I was exposed to four assholes trying to beatbox and rap. They were sporting all the ghetto fabulous gear that has come to be expected of white college kids in their early twenties who take time to rap about how hardcore they are only between their journalism homework and watching Friends on DVD. After a brief power struggle between my mind and legs, I managed not to jumpkick anyone. Fuck.