Another Sunday, another day where I claim to stay inside and watch football. However, someone decided to play a cruel joke on me. Instead of getting Atlanta/New England, I am watching San Francisco/Minnesota. This appears to be logical, since San Francisco is a Californian team, but Tom Brady grew up in San Mateo…flawed logic, but I did not intend to watch two running teams…run the ball. At least, the game looks great on this television.
My stash of money is running dry, and I’m…unrepentant, I suppose. The store had a nervous breakdown Friday, which leaves me without a day’s pay from yesterday. At first, I was a little peeved, but I assured myself job security by thinking for the market manager. Literally, when an underling twenty years your junior gives you directions, there is a problem. Now, I’m not going to say I was unqualified for what I did (because I’m overqualified), but realistically…that was pathetic. I do not mean to come across as a wiseass know-it-all, but situations like that justify my position as a wiseass know-it-all. Speaking of horrible reaction papers…
I should be dead now. Why? I started a drinking game while grading papers for my intercultural communication class. How some people get in college is beyond me, because the quality of work I saw was substandard. No, understatement…piss-poor. I was considering being nice…but realistically, it was not going to happen. Thus, I took a red pen and proceeded to crap over every grammatical error and incorrect film reference I saw. As far as the drinking game, it didn’t take long to see that I’d die from liver failure after failing my first two papers. I have requested a security detail to and from class because of the backlash I’m sure I’ll receive. Bottom line is this: if I planned on acting unethically, they would still fail the class; their papers were just that bad.
On to a happier subject, work’s cancellation yesterday allowed me to drop in on salsa team auditions. I had fought against it, because it would require too much time. I guess the butterfly effect intervened on my behalf and allowed me to participate. I treated it like a joke, yet still was at worst the third best dancer there. It allowed me to scout future dance partners…and a current one named Victoria. We talked afterwards to touch base, and I’m sure more bases will be touched. There’s definitely interest and chemistry as evidenced by our tandem practice. We never had our second date, which changes this week, as we agreed to tentative plans. YAY! Or something like that. It was reassuring to know that my blatant overtures have not been ignored, and could probably be reciprocated. Did I mention I run the largest club on campus?
Did I also mention that I will be captain of the team I just joined?
Did I also mention that…meh, forget it. I’m missing a pair of green sleeves. Overall, I can say that this late bloomer stigma is fading rapidly as I settle into my role as the Last Emperor of Salsa. My influence spread to those around me, as I finally relented to give my wingman a nickname. Why did he care if I gave him a nickname? Because I have several. I decided to declare him the “Paragon of Virtue.” Why? Well, when you have a sick desire for revenge enough that you tell the pilot that he should flip off a girl on the dance floor, then subsequently abandon her…well, you have problems.
A girl decided to beat around the bush when it came to giving me her number, which is unacceptable. A simple no would have done, but no, it didn’t happen. She appeared at the nightclub I was supporting, and then Skylar came up with the idea. I modified it to a degree: instead of doing it at the beginning of the song, I waited until it was nearly over. I built up tension, and it was magical. She was feeling good, I was feeling giddy…and then I gave her the bird and excused myself from the venue. She told him Skylar actions were “fucked up.” Little did she know that he was the architect of my attack. Yes, what I did was horrible…and I feel no remorse.
Why should I? I think Victoria digs me. Skibbedebebop. Much later.
Current Track – Story of the Year “Just Close Your Eyes”