So, are you?

Back on the blog wagon...it's been an interesting weekend to say the least. Friday night, I hung out with a different crowd than usual. John ditched me cause he hates everybody and his bed time is around 9:30. The night was going fine at first, mainly cause I was drinking heavily, but after a couple hours at the bar, we headed to a party that a friend of a friend knew of. Place was packed and I was making pitiful attempts to dance. After a while, Im talking to this guy Steven, Meaghan's friend. We had been hanging out with him most of the night and out of nowhere he starts asking me, "So, are you?" I said, what are you talking about? He goes, you know. I said, no I don't know. So are you, he asks again. At this point, I'm pretty certain the dude thinks I'm gay. I said, go ahead, just ask me. He says, nevermind. So now I'm just tanked and a bit weirded out. I walk home. A half hour later, I get a phone call from a number I've never seen before. I don't remember plenty of stuff about the night, but I have a vivid recollection of that phone conversation.
Caller: Hey Ryan, it's Steven. Where'd you go? I turned around and you were gone.
Me: Sorry. I went home. I was tired.
Caller: Oh, what're you doing now?
Me: Going to bed
Caller: Well, is there anything you like to do before you go to bed?
Me: No, not really
Caller: Where do you live?
Me: Boulevard
Caller: Do you want me to come over?
Me: No
Caller: You have my phone number, right?
Me: Yeah.
Caller: Ok well, call me anytime you want.
Me: Great.

Now I've got no problem with this guy being gay, but the whole thing was a bit fucked up. Meaghan must have given him my phone #, which is a bit weird if she knew this guy was gay and was calling me to set up some man lovin'. I think the worst part of it all is that when I hung up the phone, I actually saved Steven's number into my contacts. I was pretty drunk, but still, what the fuck was I thinking? Maybe I'm gay when I'm drunk. Who knows. Either way, John was totally jealous when he heard about my gay stalker the next morning. I need to join a rifle club or maybe hit up the Paper Moon next weekend to help restore some of my heterosexuality.



Last night was Scott and Hitch's Christmas party. We drank a couple bottles of wine before heading over there (Lauren would come to regret this a few hours later). I've never liked wine, but after drinking a gallon of it at Ellen's party Thursday night, I may be a convert. Stuff still tastes terrible, but the drunken buzz was much smoother than from my typical pound 5 shots of cheap vodka in a half hour. Anyway, there were a herd of sophomore UR girls at the party, friends of Scott's girlfriend, but they were not drinking nearly enough to foolishly think John or I were cool. In other words, they were not unconscious. One of the girls was obliterated, though, and John tells the girls that she's pulling a Mike Bender cause she's trying to get all the attention. While this may be funny to a few people in our group of friends, the UR sluts probably thought John was retarded. And if they did think that, they would have been correct. Overall party was a good time and I didn't end up leaving there until 4 am after a game of Cranium began turning into a drunken incoherent mess.
Bender made a surprise appearance in Richmond this afternoon, which was nice, cause it meant 3 guys snuggled on our couch, which is something we strive for as often as possible.
I've got a lot of Christmas shopping to do, but I'm terrible at it. It's like, how the fuck do I know what everyone wants. If I had my way, there would be no gifts. A card maybe, but no gifts. When I want something, I go out and buy it myself. If someone else buys me something, chances are they are going to screw it up and I'll sit there thanking them for their shitty gift while thinking about how I want to strangle them for being so moronic. Sorry, that probably made me sound like an asshole. Nevermind. I love Christmas (and gifts).
I gotta go. Steven's coming over.