The Arkansas Tech Wonderboys christened their new stadium with a wet, muddy, sloppy victory last night. I was a first-hand witness. Ok, I saw most of the game. I didn't see all of it because I was focused on keeping Alexis' leg properly elevate, holding the umbrella in a position that would shield her entire body from rain, and keeping an eye out for careless, clumsy morons that walked by without noticing that there was an injured person sitting there. (Seriously, one guy almost kneed the crap out of her leg, and I almost tackled his ass down 30 rows of bleachers. Lex saw my face, grabbed my hand, and squeezed it to calm me down.)
With regards to a phone call last night, I know I'm 24 years old and that I should be partying and enjoying my college years, but right now I have a few responsibilities that need to be addressed. In about 6-8 weeks, I'll have all the time in the world to drink, party, and make decisions that I (hopefully) will regret in the morning. I'm already getting reamed by my new housemates about my "romantic inexperience." Example: I took one of those e-mailed surveys today and encountered this question: Who do you think will be your next kiss? My response: probably my mom....depressing.
The Arkansas Tech Wonderboys christened their new stadium with a wet, muddy, sloppy victory last night. I was a first-hand witness. Ok, I saw most of the game. I didn't see all of it because I was focused on keeping Alexis' leg properly elevate, holding the umbrella in a position that would shield her entire body from rain, and keeping an eye out for careless, clumsy morons that walked by without noticing that there was an injured person sitting there. (Seriously, one guy almost kneed the crap out of her leg, and I almost tackled his ass down 30 rows of bleachers. Lex saw my face, grabbed my hand, and squeezed it to calm me down.)
With regards to a phone call last night, I know I'm 24 years old and that I should be partying and enjoying my college years, but right now I have a few responsibilities that need to be addressed. In about 6-8 weeks, I'll have all the time in the world to drink, party, and make decisions that I (hopefully) will regret in the morning. I'm already getting reamed by my new housemates about my "romantic inexperience." Example: I took one of those e-mailed surveys today and encountered this question: Who do you think will be your next kiss? My response: probably my mom....depressing.
2 comments:
dear great protector of injured housemates,
bet your next kiss will happen when you least expect it. it will either be:
a) amazing
or
12) like a chopped liver sandwich.
either way? you'll be surprised.
big miiiiiike. : ) that's it. that's all.
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