Man, the last, oh, 48 hours have been nutty.
Thursday night, I get out of class and swing by the University Center, looking for Samantha or Leonard’s car in the parking lot. If they were there, I figured we were working on something for Up Til Dawn, the St. Jude’s Children Hospital fundraiser that UAH students put on last night. No dice, so I start to drive home. Just as I leave campus … Samantha calls. We’re working at 7:00. I continue home so I can clean out my truck [shut up, all of you] so that someone can ride with me as we go box- and supply-hunting.
I get to the UC. We work for about four hours, doing a variety of things. Most of it involved balloons. Lots and lots of balloons. Samantha bought 500, and we had about 400 left over from Homecoming. All of those were blown up. Of the ones filled with air [let’s say at least 60%], I blew up about 60%. Quick math … 360 or so balloons. And yet I’m still full of hot air …
After the UC closed at 11:00, we ran over to Chili’s. They’ve just started this Hospitality Night gig: they card you at the door, and it’s dollar drafts, dollar shooters, and 2-for-$1 Jello shots. Guess where we went. I drove, limiting myself to three beers over an hour-and-a-half [in other words, in the realm of how much beer I can drink, not much]. Leonard got to enjoy being SGA President, having someone chauffer him. Samantha just stared at us balefully while we drank, although Monica Morris [no relation] was able to keep us company.
[Balefully’s perhaps too harsh of a term.]
Friday, Sam and I were supposed to be at Wal-Mart around 6:00 a.m. to go get boxes. At 6:10, I was awakened by my cell phone, where the frighteningly cheerful Ms. Wimberly asked where I was. I mumbled something about being in bed, she told me to stay there, and, being the agreeable type, I did. I got to the UC around 8:30 that morning.
I left the UC at 11:00 last night. Never left the building.
Damn balloons. Damn them all to hell. Of the ones we filled with helium, I probably filled and tied off half of them.
I hate latex. Thank God I believe in sex only in marriage, because right now, I don’t want to come within three feet of latex. I blew up so many balloons, I have chapped lips.
We did a variety of things to decorate the UC. The most fun was creating a big balloon logo for Up Til Dawn. Predictably, we did “UTD”. [Honk if you didn’t see this coming. Acronyms? Me?] Actually, the idea was Samantha’s, but I got to be the one to make it work. Dowels rule. Ingenuity rules.
What really scared me yesterday was that I seemed to be the only person who had any sense of how to make decorating happen. I’m a male engineer. That pretty much predicates any likelihood that I’d ever consider, say, interior decorating, as a hobby. When it comes to decorations, I can’t come up with ideas, but for whatever reason, I can make them. The UTD balloons [damn balloons!] wouldn’t have happened without me–and that’s not false modesty, because I think half of the free world told me that yesterday. I have this feeling of latex encapsulating my hands …
The event itself was, to me, pretty boring after all the work I’d put into it. Actually, that’s probably just because I was ready to fall over. Eight hours of decorating left me a bit wiped out, and then I, of course, got to jockey a bunch of stuff around in the early evening. When I sat down to work a shift of security at a door, I nearly fell asleep. Of course, I wouldn’t have fallen asleep if someone—ahem–hadn’t woken me up just as I was getting to sleep on the couch when we went to her dorm room so that she and Monica could take a shower.
I love how irrepressible Samantha can be. She just flopped down on the couch, looked at me, smiled, and said, “Want some?”, holding out the bag of cheese puffs towards me. I don’t know what’s more amazing: her irrepressible nature, or the fact that she can eat cheese puffs in her dorm room and still be as stunningly beautiful as she is.
-shrug- Oh well. Onto today, where I had my first-ever real life Rotisserie baseball draft. I have good pitching. I have a decent outfield. I like most of my infield. I have great, cheap catchers.
I have Craig Freaking Paquette as my first baseman.
I wish to die now, thanks.
Well, I’m here at work, dinking around on the computer, blathering into GreyMatter. I think I’ll assess my cash flow, find something to eat, and head out to Tweeter and get my stereo installed [finally, yes, Sean].