This "decade dance" bled lameness. Dancing is a weak justification to socialize, yet no one actually socializes due to blaring sound waves--and mostly I would rather listen to music than mingle with the mob. I attended this charade as a more stylized version of Jack Kerouac--but I appeared to be your atypical illicit drug abuser. Kerouac was actually a heavy drinker and this played a salient role in his ultimate mortal destruction. I substituted liquor with orange juice -- everyone was sipping on OJ -- and we rebelliously tossed our empty bottles onto the grass. Immediately, of course, we placed them into the recycling bin after this feigned hooliganism. I wore shades and everything appeared inky and blended and I was thoroughly confounded. I danced gauchely and cursed the ancient folk who created this morbid pastime.
Mondays will be deathlike this semester: I have four day classes followed by a three hour night class. Furthermore, on Tuesday I have a three hour morning lab and By Jove! do I have absolutely despise labs. Monday and Tuesdays are a one-two punch that may only be compared to Nistelrooy-Ferdinand of Manchester United.
Life is cold.
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