2/27/2010

Shots! Shots! Shots!

Spring Breakkkk 2010!!! Wooo Party in Virginiaaaa

2/18/2010

Dumb luck

“Used to rock a throwback, ballin’ on the corner
Now I rock a Teller suit, lookin’ like a owner”

YASSSSS. I have never been so happy with mediocrity! This is what the French must feel like… SNAP! After a week’s delirium of forecasting danggg cash flow statements and working capital (which uhhh I’ll level with you… I don’t even know what that is.), I pulled off an unexceptional and ephemeral presentation. And though you may not know it yet, it was indeed an incredible accomplishment—one in which could only be achieved by a stars aligning type of luck and (finally, those prayers of mine were answered) no flop sweat. Huzzah!

I’m not sure if this thing of beauty—yes, beauty—is a turning point in my educational career (Better late than never?! My ass! I needed this shiz yearssss ago!) or a misstep in my inevitable decline to complete social ineptitude… Ahem, I think we all know the answer to that.

I rarely settle in life. But this— Oh man… this one, I’ll graciously concede.

2/12/2010

Big Date

This Sunday is Valentine’s Day, or as I like to call it, just another day. To celebrate this sham (!!) of a holiday, I will happily be taking myself out to a nice dinner and a show. No expenses spared!

2/07/2010

The theory of tolerance: the teenager edition

A few weeks ago, I returned to Boston to finish my last semester at college. At the airport, a young freshman, faultlessly mesmerized by my sage and charm, formed an impetuous bond to me. A bond comprised of a most irritating adhesive.

Despite snide retorts and plenty of attitude, I couldn’t kick the boy scout (... Figuratively speaking, of course...). So I resolved on the fact that I could save money and share a cab with him back to campus. Hey, that IRA isn’t going to build itself! Amiright?? Ay ohhhh!

But I digress.

In the cab, the conversation was as contrived as the boy-child was vapid. What’s worse, within the Ambien prescribed conversation, he tried to shame me for not recognizing the name of a football player. ~BLASPHEMY!~ … Please! Allow me verbalize the palpable side-eye judgment I threw his way...

Teenager, with candid disdain: “How do you NOT know who that is? Where have you been?? I can’t bel—”

Me, always with perspicacity and eloquence: “Where have I been?! Where have YOU been?! What about 1988, 1989, and 1990… Oh that’s right, you weren’t alive!! Respect your elders, fool!”

Damn kids these days.