We had our first club social tonight, Kappa Krush. Our theme was "I Love the '90s: Kappas Strike Back." I went crazy at St. Vincent's thrift store this afternoon and bought a bluejean skirt, white turtleneck, embroidered floral vest and navy flats. I looked like a 3rd grade math teacher and I thought it was fun. I thought the Krush was going to be fun. Well, as it turned out, the '90s struck back.
I didn't have much communication with my date, Jake, and he showed up looking much more normal than I did. He also talked with Jeff more than he did with me. Some people were dressed up more than others, but it was OK. I guess. Things went a little slow after we ate, and some played with dodgeballs in the gym. Then we watched Napoleon Dynamite, which is still funny, but during which about half of our crowd left. Then we circled up and sang our somewhat-embarrassing club song. Then we stood around and talked. Then it happened.
I was standing around, minding my own business, talking with Courtney, Jeff and Jake. Suddenly, I was hit in the face with a dodgeball. This wasn't just a bump off of my forehead. No. Smack dab in the middle of my face, knocking my glasses off and breaking them. My frames snapped (but not in half) and one of my lenses popped out. The girl who had kicked the ball in my direction with the force of a gladiator came running over to see if I was OK. I remember getting hit in the head with volleyballs in middle school gym and back then I had to try and play it cool. I really wasn't able to do that this time and yes, I started to cry. I did so in front of Jake (who will probably delete my number out of his cell phone now with good reason) and everyone. Our theme was about going back to the '90s when we were young and insecure, and it couldn't have been more appropriate for the situation.
Jake and Jeff made an exit not too long after that. I tried to drive home but nearly ran into a fence, so I waited around and Courtney drove me back. Hopefully, someone will drive me to Eyemasters or somewhere tomorrow so I can try and get my glasses fixed or get new frames, all before Wednesday because I'm freaking leaving the country on Thursday. Maybe I could just stay in Europe and create a new identity. Hmm...
So now I sit here, leaning very close to the screen and typing away on a Friday night. I hate the '90s.
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3 comments:
i like the whole new identity in europe thing. geez, what a horrible reminder of junior high. that is a time period i never wish to repeat again. ever. hope you are recovering and can still drive safely to the movies this afternoon!
ps i finally finished my peace corps application and submitted it at 12:30 am today. that is one long application.
My experience from being frustrated with events you care about going downhill, being totally embarassed in front of someone you're supposed to be with but doesn't act like it, and crying about broken things is ... let's say plethoric. I can make up words because, let's remember, I am the social poriah who sacrifices herself on the alter of social iniquity on a regular basis. As Calvin's dad would remind you, just think of all the character you're building. Plus, remember the character of the people around you (if you care to, that is), and that no matter how many things you care about that pale in reality, no matter how many times you revert back to middle school, and no matter how many times Jake deletes you from his phonebook, you are among friends. And ... PREG. Love you, Sarah (not you)
My experience from being frustrated with events you care about going downhill, being totally embarassed in front of someone you're supposed to be with but doesn't act like it, and crying about broken things is ... let's say plethoric. I can make up words because, let's remember, I am the social poriah who sacrifices herself on the alter of social iniquity on a regular basis. As Calvin's dad would remind you, just think of all the character you're building. Plus, remember the character of the people around you (if you care to, that is), and that no matter how many things you care about that pale in reality, no matter how many times you revert back to middle school, and no matter how many times Jake deletes you from his phonebook, you are among friends. And ... PREG. Love you, Sarah (not you)
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