How ironic.

So I suffer from a sleep disorder. If you're a co-worker of mine, you unfortunately already know this. For the first time in months, I was able to go to sleep, without any sort of outside help such as alcohol or the rare Nyquil tablet. My roommate (BJ) and a mutual friend of ours (Charlie) had gone out drinking at Bar Louie, a new favorite in the West End. Around 11:30, I sent Charlie a text message informing the both of them that I was going to bed and to please not wake me, but that I'd keep my phone close by in case they were absolutely in need of a sober ride home. Please excuse the grammar and inconsistent writing style throughout this piece. It was initially only intended for a friend and eager co-worker.

1:35 A.M. early on a rainy Thursday.
DING DONG. Peanut barking ferociously. Me, VERY pissed off, ignore door bell, try to sleep.
Front door opens and I Charlie - "HA….HA…HA"
Knock at bedroom door. Not normal knock, but just ONE solitary knock. I don’t answer
Another single solitary knock at bedroom door. I ignore. BJ softly…“Carrie”, then another soft “Carrie”
Door knob jingles. BJ – to Charlie in liv rm, very softly “its locked…”
I’m REAAAAAAAAAAALLY angry by now.
Put on robe. Open door.
To BJ, on all fours, in floor infront of my bedroom door, looking up at me.
I say “What the f are you doing?”
Bj offers no response, just a startled and confused look and falls over onto his side and lays there
I walk over him into the living room where..
Charlie immediately begins to inform me of how BJ puked, in and outside of his truck and how he better clean it up tomorrow.
I yell at Charlie for waking me up.
I go outside and smoke a cigarette.
I come back in living room and realize that BJs puke covered shirt is in middle of floor. I wash it.
Now, wide awake, I sit on the couch and eat some leftover breadsticks.
Here comes BJ, who had crawled on all fours with belly rubbing the ground all the way from his room down the hall, into the living room, only to collapse as soon as reaching the threshold.
I chuckle a little, but only a little bc I’m still really mad.
BJ crawls to bathroom and I hear him being sick in toilet.
I check clothes in washer, return to hear Charlie being sick in that same toilet.
Decide there’s no going back to sleep, so I go put clothes on.
I go to ask BJ (who has crawled on all fours again back to his bedroom) if he needs anything to drink/eat.
He is asleep.
I return to living room saying to Charlie “Man Bj…” only to find that within the one moment it took for me to dress, Charlie had passed out as well.
I didn't get back to sleep...until 6.

Oh Blog

I've missed you so much. Where have you been amongst the moving out, moving in, cleaning, arranging, hanging, washing and other frantic attempts I've been making to feel at home? I know, it's been a long time. Yes, I know...but I swear it's not my fault, it's that damn Comcast. They were supposed to show Monday, but you know how that goes. I'll make it up to you soon, I promise. They really are coming today ::hoping::. I swear I will tell you about EVERYTHING, soon!

Where I Choose to Begin

As a young teenager (roughly between the ages of 14 and 16), I kept an online journal. Every day I'd ask my mother permission to eagerly tie up our ever-needed phone line to connect to my online world. With each new day came an in-depth recap of the events that occured the day before. Sometimes to confess my "love" to my first real boyfriend. Looking back, I laugh at my desperate attempt to look cool by explaining the "amazing adventures" I'd encountered. I remember giving up on my journal once my life really did become a little cooler and I no longer had the time to tell the world about my daily voyages through adolescence. Not that I don't appreciate being able to relive the several hundred pages of my teenage life by simply pulling an enormous hidden 3-ring binder from deep within my closet.
This time around, things are going to be a little different. I still don't have the time to tell everyone in cyberspace about my daily adventures, but I'm going to make some and this time, it's going to be anonymous. This blog will be for your entertainment and as for me, it will act as my best friend and a sanctuary for my sanity.
So who am I? I am a 20 year old mess of confusion. I am female. No, I am a woman. I am grounded, wait, no I'm not, yes I am. You get the point. I struggle with the question of whether I can handle all of the very long, short answer, essay type tests God chooses to bless me with. I have found that just like I do in school, I simply babble and tip-toe until I feel like I've come up with an answer that answers the question while never really answering the question at all. Since taking on this mindset I have been able to conquer even the testiest of tests and have done it in stride. Kind of.
Since I'm being "anonymous," which, by the way, sounds very cool, I feel like I should have some key of characters in order for you (really meaning me), to remember what the hell I'm talking about. Wait, I feel a very (non) original idea coming on! So a few weeks ago some of the "older" ladies from my second job (I call it my second job, because it's just not as cool as my first job) and a friend of mine decided to have coctails and go see Sex and the City. Movie was great, by the way. Well, what I saw of it through the hurricane of tears and laughter. Anyway, to get to the point, the characters came daringly close to those of my friends and I, so I'm going to go with that.
Me (20, playing the role of Carrie. confused)
Charlotte (21, the best friend, denies being confused)
Samantha (20, the crazy one, really confused)
Big (23, the ex, unfortunately still playing a big role)
Aidan (23, a long-time friend/?, confused as well)
Aleksandr (24, trying to be the romancer, haven't figured this one out yet, probably confused though)
You'll also hear about Mom (39) and Sister 1 (16) and Sister 2 (14).
I'm sure I'll be adding to this...