So on my last two visits back home I have gotten into a few tiffs. Something about being back in the place where you were raised gets your blood boiling. College students feel like they own Charlottesville and stumble around drunkenly yelling at anyone who does not fit the typical UVa dress code. Now don't get me wrong, I love UVa it is my home and some of my best friends are students. Being a townie I feel like I shouldnt have to take shit from anyone or smell like strawberries
On a whim Charlie and I decided to go to Charlottesville. We needed to up our "bro-status". We got swiped in at the O-Hill dining hall and met the UVa womens crew team. After a decent meal it was time to get bro'd out.Once we looked the part we met with our good friend Tripper. Official UVa Bro. We rode the free trolly and Tripper took us to the party.We left the party and wandered down frat row.We walked to the pirate party. Charlie promptly threw his beverage in a frat boys face and tried to fight him. We left the party.Thus began Charlies reign of terror on Charlottesville.
I don't know the name of anyone in any of my classes, and I have no desire to meet them. I have one class with Eric and spend the entire time trading You-tube videos, and taking photo booth pictures with him. ( no homo ) Everyone at art school sucks, and no one likes to joke around. Today a girl in my class asked me if being an asshole has always worked for me. Maybe I don't take myself seriously enough>
Or maybe it is my condescending sarcastic sense of humor.
I asked this guy if I could blog him and he said yes. He wanted to see the picture so I showed him my camera. I flicked past a picture of my room, he said he knew where I lived and put his hand on my shoulder. He told me he would pay me a visit. I am locked in my room with a knife and bear mace.