If you liked it then you should have put a drink on it.

Recently my life has been more greatly filled with drama and going out on the town than it usually is.  Usually, I am a plain old glazed, now I am a jelly filled delight.  In donutting terms.  Summer is filled with far fewer people than during the school year.  The small groups of people herd together and form strange alliances that are explored in the late hours of the night.

On Monday night, I found myself, once again, going out with all my single ladies.  Not being a single lady myself, I have found myself occupying my free time through a variety of pointless pastimes.  One of the most successful, I have found, is going out.  Now let me explain to you what going out is like in this town.  As one of my friends, Marilyn, so beautifully put it, most people go out to have a drink or listen to some good music.  Here, we don’t do that.  We go out and drink heavily until we are forced to leave the bar that we so gracefully inhabit.  This may sound borderline alcoholic binge drinking behavior and perhaps it is.  At least it isn’t every night.  That’s what freshman year was for.  We are responsible for keeping the economy up here.  I do what I can.

On this very special Monday night I found myself in an old favorite bar that wisely markets $2 pitchers of beer on Monday nights.  Genius, I know.  When we were forced to leave we walked to one of my friend’s place of residence.  (My house is too far away to walk.)  I decided I was hungry, which I have been continuously ever since my stomach virus.  Will I ever be full again?  This is quite the opposite of what Scarlett O’Hara declared so many years ago.  By and by, I was hungry.  As you might remember, a nocturnal creature encountered me a few nights prior to this.  I decided to use this information to my advantage, as any weathered businesswoman would.  I called Dominos Pizza.  I told them I had information they might find “interesting.”  I explained that I would keep the information on the vermin entering their whereabouts from the “press” if they would give me a free pizza.  A fair deal, right? Wrong.  I spoke to the manager and he said I could tell the press.  I wasn’t getting a free pizza.  Close but no cigar, as my Dad always says.  Such a wise old elf.

Why did I think this would be a smart approach?  Obviously I was trying to save some money.  Before hanging up I told the manager, “You’re mean,” and hung up.  I ended up getting McDonalds.  They were much more friendly.

My dear friend and roommate, June, has warned me that I am going to alienate each and every pizza company here.  I believe this is a false statement.  There could be no such day.  I keep the pizza business going in this town.  They couldn’t live without me… at least I hope not.

I have recently entered the category of being morbidly obese because I have been eating my feelings since I have no boyfriend around these parts.  To curb this weight gain that is ominously approaching I have been exercising quite frequently.  Today I did kickboxing.  At first, I thought I was going to trip on my own toes and knock out my very expensive teeth (5 years of orthodontia adds up), as my Mother so kindly reminded me before this adventure.  However, once I got the hang of it I was going like Kirstie Alley to McDonalds-which is what I was going to be if I didn’t engage myself in this exercise torture.  Surprisingly, I found it to be successful on several different levels.  I burned several hundred calories which is always torturous but then allows you to eat even more-Yippee!  But it also allowed me to air punch all my frustration.  It was beautiful.  I even made a few grunts as the leader suggested.  I’m a follower.  My grunts were ladylike though, not to worry.  Not Serena Williams, more like how Ryan Seacrest would squeal or rather, squall. 

I feel as if my muscles will turn to rock tomorrow.  At the very least, I hope to feel a burn in the chicken fat area of my arms.  These Oprah arms have got to go.

Until next time my fair-weather friends.  Parting is such sweet sorrow.