Bars are Weird, Casinos are Depressing and So Am I

Guys, this weekend was weird. 

I turned 21. Went to bars. Drank alcoholic beverages. 

Refused to dance beyond awkward hand motions. 

You know, the usual. 

So, I accidentally hit my friend in the head with my, admittedly rather large, nose. It was pretty hard. There was blood involved. Coming from my nose, not her head. My nose is large, not sharp. 

Anyway. 

I didn't actually drink that much, for turning 21 and all. I'm kind of super lame when I'm drunk too. Mostly I wanted to go home and take a nap, but that is kind of my default setting so no one was actually surprised. 

I get really weirdly pretentious, too. I kept quoting Oscar Wilde for some reason and talking about obscure bands. I don't know. I just wanted to let everyone else know I was better than them. Because of this, I sang really loud when songs I knew were on. I also sang really loud when songs I did not know were on. 

Also, I was really cold, but refused to wear a coat because I didn't want anything obstructing the view of my very sparkly shirt. 

It was real sparkly, guys. Fishing lure sparkly. Intense amounts of sparkle. 

And for some reason, I kept calling everyone dude. I don't know why. I really, really don't. 

So, you know...shenanigans. 

But the fun doesn't stop there, oh no it does not. The drunk Danielle fun train is just leaving the station. Lots of embarrassing stops coming up, folks. 

I'm going to tell you something and you're going to think I'm lying, but I'm really not. 

A midget hit on me. And I ran away. 

And before you yell at me, I mostly ran away because a boy was talking to me. Not because he was a midget, specifically. And look, I know that "midget" is probably not the most politically correct term or whatever. But if I'm being honest here, "little people" seems way more offensive than midget. Little people is what my mom calls her kindergarteners. 

But back to my story. I was hit on. By a little person midget whatever. It wouldn't be all that extraordinary, but he was literally the only guy who hit on me. All night. Have I just been looking in the wrong niche or something? Am I, like, just attractive to midget little people whatevers? 

This is going to require some soul searching. Also, some more trips to bars in the name of scientific inquiry. 

I am nothing if not respectful of the scientific method. 

Speaking of things that are weirdly sad and smell like smoke, I went to a casino! 

It was super depressing, guys. Incredibly depressing. Depressing all around. Most of the people there were old or looked old because their skin had been exposed to lots and lots of cigarette smoke. 

It was a hotbed of sin and debauchery, let me tell you. 

I spent thirty dollars. 

And won nothing. 

I also learned that I suck at blackjack. Did you know blackjack was a thing you could, like, hardcore suck at? I so did. It was really sad. Took me like five minutes to lose twenty bucks.

My favorite machine was an under-the-sea-themed slot machine. There were sea turtles and it make a do-do-do-do sound whenever I bet anything. 

It was all very exciting.

Until I lost thirty dollars and realized that my juice would have to be store-brand this month. That shit is just unacceptable. It is either watered down or way too sugary.  

Ugh...my life. Is so. Difficult. 

I should go. I have homework that I didn't do because I was busy quoting The Picture of Dorian Gray in a bar and singing the National and Frightened Rabbit songs over Ke$ha. Loudly. 

I'm real cool guys. I so don't blame that midget for hitting on me. 

Later. 

Day 113 of College: Here's to an (Un)Happy Finals Week and an Ironic New Year

Today...


Finals week is nearly here, folks. You know what that means. A serious increase in the number of blogs I will be posting because I am avoiding the responsibility of studying for said finals. 


I hate finals. 


I hate school. 


I hate work in general. 


But, in other news, it being almost finals weeks also means that it is almost the end of the first semester! Woo! I'll be done with 1/8th of my college education!


...And I'm still single. We gotta step it up a few notches college. (I dunno...maybe it's my own fault for choosing to go to a college with really good arts, theatre, teaching and journalism programs. Those are subjects dominated by girls and gay boys. And don't get me wrong, I love gay boys. But...gay boys rarely love me back.) 


Anyway. 


Did I tell everyone that I applied to and got into Purdue last semester? I didn't? Well, I did. 


Mostly it was because I was stressed, hated my major, and had no friends and was depressed because I had no friends. Also, because of high female/gay boy population here. But...I digress. That happened. I thought I should inform the general population that, despite popular belief, I AM smart enough to get into a college that isn't Ball State. 


I'm not transferring because I can't afford it and because I've gotten used to my lonely little routines, but...still. 


I got in. To Purdue. Granted, it was their liberal arts program (yes, they have one). So...maybe it isn't that big of an achievement. Huh. 


Whatever. It's a point of pride at this point. 


What the hell does liberal arts even mean? Seriously...does anyone know? 


So, happy week-and-a-half until the end of first semester. Also, 19 days to Christmas. So, happy Christmas. And, jolly Hanukkah and merry Kwanza and neutral non-celebratory day to the Jehova's witnesses. And whatever to all you atheists out there. 


 Also, merry irony to the hipsters. I hope you get all the flannel shirts, pabst blue ribbon, and terrible sweaters that you deserve. 


...I hate you, hipsters. 


So much. 


So, so much. 


Danielle Out. 


PS. Seriously, hipsters. SO MUCH.