rave.rave.rave.

fact: raving is my destiny.

Last night Pi Phi rented out Level for a reading day eve rave. Level, for those of you who don’t know, is creeper headquarters in downtown Athens. The dance floor is surrounded by mirrored walls, a mini stage, and an upper tier where old men gather to drool over the drunk sorostitutes. Oh and there’s a cage for dancing. Like I said—creeper hq. Upon entry, I reminisced about the last time I’d been on that glorious dance floor of theirs—freshman year Halloween. Ah yes, the glory days of freshman year. All done up in my Indian facepaint and headdress, I had sucked down one of Level’s notorious fish bowls (a generously sized glass fish bowl filled with every clear liquor stocked in the bar, garnished with delicious gummy fishies and a black straw that serves as a siphon), then made my way to the dance floor. Cut to me falling backwards and losing a moccasin. Hot mess party of one? What?

Take away the creepy old men and keep the number of people within the fire code, Level is the shiz. Perfect locale for ravinggg. Between dollar shots at the bar all night long, glow sticks abound, and cascada bumping through the speakers, I was in my element. Seriously I was born for this shit. I have informed the roomies that we are having monthly raves in our new casa. You are all cordially invited.

The pink leggings I rocked? Had those bad boys laying around my room. Same with the rave shades. This might embarrass some, but it’s a source of pride for me. Truly. The bottles of glow paint are new additions to my life, and I have welcomed them with open arms. I will be in full body paint for all monthly raves. That’s a promise. Now I just need a black light and a strobe light.. and a giant fan. Housewarming presents? Quizas?

Yesterday was the last day of classes for the semester. Holler! Liana announced that she will never again be teaching at UGA. Double holler! Scratch that. Triple holler! I had so much crap to do this week, but eff that. I chose to live my life. Monday night I went to the Braves v Cardinals game with Victoria. A family friend gave us her clutch box seat tickets and gold lot parking pass. Too legit to quit. We got pub subs on the way over, then a souvenir cup’s worth of banana split dippin dots at the game. I died. We had this crazy ass usher woman who was prone to screaming and other forms of obnoxiousness. She was ALL about singing take me out to the ballgame, and made sure all of her peeps were all about it too. Truly a treasure of a woman. High point of my night: running into a car. While walking. My knee slammed into the trailer hitch of this truck so loud that people two aisles over in the lot looked up and screamed “DAMN! HEARD THAT ONE!!”. I still can’t figure out how I managed to do that. I wasn’t even texting, just walking. Skillz.

Then Tuesday night I went to the Dave Matthews concert at Verizon. It rocked my world. It was a family affair—Paul got four tickets to the show for his birthday, and gave one to me and one to Victoria because we are awesome. And because his peeps already had tickets, but mostly the awesome factor. Dave was just loving the ATL. He played some of his new stuff. I already love funny the way it is, and cannot wait for spaceman to come out. The best part of the concert was when Dave started dancing. Easily.

So after Tuesday night I kind of had to get my shit together. I had a bio test Wednesday, a French research paper due Thursday, among other such scholastic nonsense.

Wednesday night Ali and I had a two-hour conversation about how we could rule the world if we were Hermione Cullen—the missing link between the wizarding world and vampires. Hear me out: a vampire—impossible speed and beauty, never sleeps, never eats, lives forever, and inevitably has some insanely heightened sense (crossing my fingers for mind reading, but am down with ability to alter the moods of the people around me)—with a wand and a broom. Voldemort couldn’t touch that shit. Nobody could. And how rich would I be if I didn’t drop a cent on food for the rest of my life? And think about all the time I’d have to read and learn new spells if I didn’t sleep. I’d be productive all the time. The world would be my bitch. I was pissed when I woke up Thursday morning and realized I hadn’t been dreaming about Hermione Cullen. Idiot!

And now me Smel and Victoria are in the car on the way to Charleston. Jealous? Yeah. My life is the shit.

sham on.

peace love and raving