The CHAD makes and encore appearance
Of course he did, why wouldn�t he.
Let�s start at the very beginning, a very good place to start. (Try getting THAT song out of your head ladies.)
Friday morning, I wake up LONG before I needed to be up. I didn�t have to be at work until 11 am and I just LOVE goofing off in the morning before work. I woke up around 7am, petted my kitty�s chin, and rolled out of bed to turn on all the lights and the radio. As I�m in the bathroom, disrobing for the shower, I hear the local radio station gabbing about a singles mixer they hosted the night before. What caught my attention right away was a girl they mentioned, we�ll call her Chic. I use the name Chic for two reasons: One � I�m not using her real name. Two � It�s similar to her real name because you don�t hear it used everyday, maybe not at all. They start talking about Chic and how great she was and how sweet she was and how they had lost her half way into the night. One of the other morning hosts mentioned they saw her getting sick outside. THAT�s when I said to myself, �Okay, it�s not the Chic I know, she doesn�t get sloppy.�
She doesn�t get sloppy.
I find out later that day, while I was at work, it WAS the Chic I knew and some sick FUCK had slipped something into her drink. (Fucker.) And she spent all night in the hospital. (I hope your dick shrivels up and falls off.) And she was having seizures this morning. (When I find you, you will know pain and you will beg your Lord to take you away from me, the Bain of your short, cowardly existence.)
WHERE do these guys come from? �You know what. No. I�m not even gonna start. You all KNOW what I�m thinking. These dregs are a bunch of pathetic twerps.
Anyway, I was so looking forward to seeing Chic at Rachel�s birthday party that night because the lip-gloss she wanted had FINALLY arrived. I mean, this stuff was on back order since Christmas. But I pretty much bet on her not coming out to party with us.
Rachel�s birthday party.
Here�s where it gets tricky� Rachel�s boss is Chic�s brother. Chic�s brother decided that he wanted to throw Rachel the birthday bash� at Rachel�s house. Am I the ONLY person who thinks this is strange??
�Hey Rachel you�ve had a tough Birthday, we�re coming over to your house and party.�
She had to clean the night before and clean up the day after. Only a fricken guy would think of this�
Back to Friday.
I get off work, hop a train to Rachel�s town, about fifteen minutes from Philadelphia and begin to help her keep her mind off the boyfriend she broke up with.
That day.
Because of an argument.
About her party.
About her party?! This guy, we�ll call him Sack. Sack lives in London and has been wooing my best friend Rachel for about 5 months now. Rachel loves this boy more than I think she should, but I trust her judgment and go with it. I would play along and be the loud, obnoxious, American Yank who is always pleased to say hello to Sack whenever he�s on the phone with Rachel. Which was like, all the time! Even nights I stayed over, she�d go upstairs and giggle with him. Or even on our road trip to Penn State, she was on the phone with him the majority of the time. I never resented him or minded, as long as he was GOOD for her. I am, and always will be pro-love. For those of you out there, overcoming oceans and pursuing your love, (wink, wink) I salute your gusto and quest for romance. I wish you many days and nights of giggling under the covers and pancake batter fights. (Gosh. That�s the good stuff right there�) snap snap Okay, enough of that, I�m gonna get all teary eyed.
SO. Sack decides to throw a hissie fit over the fact that Rachel�s boss and friends are throwing her a birthday party. He�s mad because this party was scheduled on the night he and Rachel usually talk on the phone and Rachel didn�t tell her friends to MOVE THEIR PARTY to another night.
Does that sound a little freaky to you??
It does to me. WHO flips out over one fucking day? �what a child�
Rachel�s decided her and were gonna get blitzed at the party and behave like freshmen. WEEEEEEEEEE
I get to her place, throw my gear into her guest room, a.k.a. the boom-boom room, and head down stairs to cheer Rachel. I give her a hug, take her hand and say in my most isn�t-that-puppy-adorable-voice, �Who wants to go upstairs and see their birthday gift!?�
Rachel has technically already seen this gift. I got it on ebay and have zero self-control. I showed her what she was getting pretty much the second I won it.
30 8x10 identical photos of David Bowie a la 70�s androgynous era.
Did I mention they were on thick, glossy stock with a peel-away back that makes the photo one giant, fucking sticker!?? Mwahahahahahahaaaaa. I love giving gifts�
So she squealed a bit and we fumbled with the pictures to see just how huge the grid would be if she hung them six across, five high. Just gorgeous.
So far, the day had been utterly CRAP and Rachel and I were on a mission to have a fun night.
Fast forward to party�
Chic did show up and was totally brightened by the lip-gloss I got her. Woo hoo.
People kept bringing food and drink and food and cake. Wait. I should dedicate an entire sentence or two to that sexy cake. It. Was. Heaven.
You know that part in Napoleon Dynamite where Deb is taking a pic of Uncle Rico and she tells him to imagine himself weightless, in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by tiny little seahorses? And it makes him feel completely relaxed and peaceful? That�s kind of what the cake was like. I wonder if it was made of seahorses or something� anyway.
After cake or during cake, I really can�t remember which one, a decent group of us decided to play beer pong. Or in our case, punch pong.
I was the fricken MASTERRRR of punch pong. Rachel and I were already toasted beyond belief and we were just SPANKING these frat boys.
I mean, we won with like five cups left for the other team to sink. I was almost embarrassed for them � almost.
After our righteous victory, nobody �wanted to play� anymore. (Sore losers.) So we went outside to have a ciggie.
That�s where I officially met �Dude�, as Rachel dubbed him. Dude was wearing a black sweater and carrying a fricken book authored by Kierkegard� I almost puked on sight. He even admitted to bringing this book with him to bars and such to spark conversation and pick up chicks.
I�m sure the book loses the effect after he opens his mouth.
Now. Something to know about me. I get way too �comfortable in my surroundings� if I�m with a lot of people I know, in an environment I am very well acquainted with, �new people� become my prey when they say anything I disagree with. (In other words: I�m a territorial bitch.)
We�re talking about music and he opens his mouth to say he thinks the early Beatle�s work sucks. I could almost see Rachel wince and brace for impact.
I went OFF.
There is not one person who is safe using the words Beatles and suck in the same breath around me. I have loved and cherished them all my life. They make me smile, they make me calm, they give me inspiration.
He begins to tell me that they didn�t �get good� until Rubber Soul and Revolver.
Grrrr. What an ass. Is there anyone else out there feeling my pain???
�HOW can you be so ridiculous!? Do you have any idea what happened to Rock and Roll and America, for that matter, when they started!!!!??? Not to mention the children, sitting in front of their TVs, seeing them for the first time and saying to themselves, �This is what I want to be.� Can you not even appreciate and respect that!!? You don�t have to think it�s revolutionary or cutting edge. It�s the fucking beginning of a legend���
And on I went.
I cooled down when I realized this guy was just another doofus, and I shouldn�t take his opinion seriously. It would be like trying to convince a 12 year old that Britney Spears is a joke.
The party starts to die down. Rachel, Me, and Donna are shaking our groove things in spite of the fact we make up more than half of the remaining guests. Everyone leaves except for Dude. Whatever. I go upstairs to get some sleep and leave Rachel and Dude to chitchat and what not. I remember thinking to myself that maybe the two of them would get along. Rachel and I do not have the same taste. Maybe he IS deep and artsy and all that jazz.
As I�m thinking this, I hear Rachel calling up the stairs to me, saying I have a visitor.
It�s like 3 AM!! Ugh
It�s the fucking Chad. The fucking Chad. The fucking Chad I broke up with right before Thanksgiving. I tell her he can come up and he gives me this drawn out speech about how he cares about me and has never cared about anyone else this way� blah, blah, blah.
Boring story, short � I let him go down on me and kicked him out when I was �done�.
THAT should be the last I hear from The Chad.
Wanna hear what happened to Dude? Go read albannach�s diary�
http://albannach.diaryland.com
P.S. So this makes it my 26th consecutive Valentines Day without anyone to celebrate it with. I want some hugs and kisses.
Hopefully Rachel will come with me tonight to see �Say Anything� (Starring my number one crush.) on the big screen at the Trocadero, or I�ll have to cry and complain that guys like that don�t exist, all by myself.
1:16 PM - Monday, Feb. 14, 2005
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