Last night was fairly tame, as I was so absolutely exhausted. I just didn't have it in me to keep up with the rest of the kids.

However, as I said, this semester has taken a turn for the sketchier.

We were watching basketball over at my place all day yesterday. A bunch of people showed up to watch the Texas/UNC game. Mr. Stanford walked into our apartment, followed by a man who must have been in at least his 50s, who was so drunk that he could barely stand on his own. I'd never seen him before, and given that he appeared to be in his late 50s, I was immediately on alert for Pure Sketch.

"Stanford," I said, "Who the fuck is this guy?"
"He's a friend of mine," he said. "Stanford '85 alum."
"Bullshit, who the fuck is he?"
Finally Mr. Stanford admitted that he'd never met the guy before, but that he'd been at a bar watching the Bama/Stanford game (which I totally called, btw), and had started talking to this guy. He was, in fact, a Stanford alum, and at first Mr. Stanford was just going to give him a ride home because he was so drunk he couldn't drive himself. The alum, however, was like, "Nooooo, I don't wanna gooooo hoooome. I wanna hang out with you guys."

So Mr. Stanford thought it would be a good idea to bring this drunk-ass old man to my house.

The old man was clearly making everybody uncomfortable, and was truly killing the mood, but it didn't get really bad until he started ripping ass continuously and utterly unapologetically. I'm not even sure he noticed. Being a little bit more sober, however, the rest of us had a harder time ignoring his giant farts. Mr. Stanford's girlfriend was about to cry, she was trying so hard not to laugh. I think she finally had to leave the room. The rest of us were trying to ignore it. Which, you know, is hard when someone's farting every 30 seconds so loud it could probably be heard in the apartment next door.

Finally, thankfully, Mr. Stanford and friends left, taking their drunk old man with them, but wow. This weekend was just pure shadiness, epitomized and capped off by a drunk and farting old man.

XOXO, Larry the Longhorn 3/21/2004 04:25:00 PM

Friday
This semester has definitely taken a turn for the sketchier.

After class on Friday, we headed straight to a bar to watch basketball. We were there until happy hour. It's always kind of shocking to walk out of a bar, squint because of the glaring sunlight, and realize, "It's the middle of the day, and I'm kinda buzzed."

We'd heard there was going to be Guinness at Happy Hour, so we made a quick stop to pick up a bottle of Bailey's and a couple of shot glasses. You bet your ass we'll do car bombs in the middle of the law school courtyard. When we arrived, we discovered SBA only had kegs of Killian's. Not to be deterred, we had someone drive us back to the grocery store so we could buy a 12-pack of Guinness. We're dedicated people.

Friday night had the potential to be absolutely explosive. There's been a situation developing between several people at the law school, and it looked like it might really come to a head on Friday night. I'm usually all for spreading the law school gossip, but this is something I really would rather not be involved in, despite having been sucked in a bit tangentially. There was a scene at Happy Hour. Not anything involving screaming or all-out fighting, but enough to make several people who weren't aware of the situation wonder what the hell was going on.

I think the reason it didn't blow up is because I went out with a group of guys I hadn't been out with in awhile, and took one of the key players with me. Extracting him from the situation kept it from worsening.

Although we went to several bars (one of which I don't even remember being at), we ended up on the east side of the city at a strip club. East Law School City is basically a demilitarized zone. They don't have places like this in the south, except maybe in New Orleans. The worst parts of Houston look like Disney Land in comparison. Dallas' "ghetto" area that we were terrified to drive through in high school is a joke compared to the east side of this city. I don't go to the east side during the day, let alone drunk out of my mind at night.

Somehow, however, we ended up deciding that we wanted to go to a strip club. We figured we would just drive around the east side until we found one. Clearly, a good idea.

Frodo claims that the strip club we went to is the sketchiest place he has ever been, which, if you know Frodo, says a lot. The boy knows sketch.

Funny thing is, it turns out it wasn't so much a strip club as it was a brothel. Within 5 minutes of arrival, The Kraut had been propositioned for sex. $40 for a lay. $20 for a BJ. I didn't realize that we'd actually been at a whorehouse (in the parlance of our times) until Saturday morning, when someone asked me if I'd gotten a lap dance. I realized that I hadn't, and wondered why. I asked Frodo if it was because I didn't want to pay for one, and the boys didn't either. This struck me as highly improbable, since guys seem to live for seeing their girl friends molested by strippers. He told me that nobody in that place was getting lap dances... although some were getting fucked (more on this later).

Naturally, being a woman in a strip club, I did warrant a lot of attention from the strippers. Usual stripper rules did not apply. One put her hands on my boobs and I was like, "Um, hi, can you not?" Although this was my first time in a strip club, I knew that you're not supposed to touch strippers, as it's likely to get you thrown out of the club. One of the women made clear that this rule clearly wasn't in effect by grabbing both of my hands and planting them square on her chest.

I think the funniest thing about this, however, was how utterly disaffected we all were. I'm not sure if that was the alcohol or not. Frodo and I:
* Ended up sitting at the bar;
* Having a serious conversation while sitting at said bar;
* While eating Cheez-its;
* Surrounded by topless women;
* And noting occasionally that various men were getting fucked on the couches behind us.

None of this got in the way of our discussing The Situation at the Law School, and other various sundry topics. Our reaction to our surroundings: Meh-- whatev.

Said Pablo later, "I can't believe you guys didn't get mugged. The four of you must have stood out like a sore thumb."
Responded Frodo, "What, you mean in my French Connection blazer and Armani jeans?"

Other observations:
* There were no fake tits in attendance Friday night.
* Not only were the strippers' boobs not humongous, they weren't even big.
* They were mostly really small and floppy.
* They were also wearing flesh-colored pasties. It took me awhile to figure this out. At first, I thought, "Oh my god, that girl is so horribly scarred." Additionally, I doubt the pasties served any real function as, according to Frodo, "You had a lot of vagina in your face Friday night." (Me: "Really? Huh.")

Friday night was another one of those where I wake up the next day and just feel a little bit speechless. I think the reason I wasn't utterly terrified at various points during the night was because I was so blitzed. For instance, when I noticed that The Kraut was doing 95 on the highway as we were leaving the east side, I wasn't thinking, "We are going to die. We are going to die." I was thinking, "Man... it feels really good with the windows down." When I was thrown back against the leather seat because he took a ramp so fast, I just thought it was kind of cool. I thought, "I love Audis." The Kraut is fairly notorious at school for his crazy driving, but I'm not sure I've driven with him before. I'm thinking about maybe not doing it again, hah.

I woke up Saturday morning and spent forever in the shower because I felt like I couldn't get the smoke stench off me. I chain smoked at least two packs Friday night, Frodo went through a pack and a half, The Kraut and friend went through at least a pack each. What's funny about this: Although The Kraut is a chain-smoker already, Frodo and I don't smoke. At all. I think we just needed something to do. But we were literally lighting our cigarettes off the ones in our mouths. It was about 4 in the afternoon on Saturday before the smoke taste left my mouth.

I felt shockingly good on Saturday morning, considering how much I'd had to drink. I think this is because I drank 1/2 a bottle of Pedialyte on the rocks before I went to bed. I was exhausted, but at least I didn't puke 4 times like Frodo did.