From: Becca
To: Pat

Hey how is the new job (I'm assuming you are at your new job now)? Send me the link to your job blog, I have lost it. And update your white boy blog, I'm desperately bored at my internship and in need of some good G@rvin entertainment.

Hope you are well, talk to you soon.

Well, I'm not at the new internship just yet; I'm still at my boot camp, in preparation for said internship. And boot camp it is: 12-hour work days, dorm food, minimal free time, etc. It's not bad, though, as there are some nice people, particularly some cool southern girls with southern manners, which is always nice. And we've figured out how to get the coffee machine to give us free coffee.

I got here the day after graduation. I'm still processing graduation and college and all that in my head. Hell, I'm still processing London. I'm still processing the dorm years.

Erica's mom: Didn't you find it hard to be abroad in your final semester?
Me: Eh... I was able to make it work.
Erica's mom: But isn't that unusual?
My mom: But look at who we're talking to.
Erica's mom: Right!

I don't regret going to London, or going when I did. I had an eye-opening time and felt right at home; anyone who's talked to me about it knows that. I can't change when I went, and I think things worked out for the best. It does feel weird, though, that I wasn't with everyone for the last semester. It's funny that in everyone's final Columbia moments, I won't be in those memories, because I was off gallavanting elsewhere. When I did come back, I had too much time on my hands, whereas everyone else was really busy, and now, some of my friends have some extra time on their hands and now I'm in classes and workshops. I'm so blessed to have all the opportunities I've had, and I would be a fool to think otherwise, but I don't want my friends to slip away. I know they won't, because good friendships are like scars, in that even if they seem like they're fading, they don't ever really go away.

So, even if I'm away from my good friends, and they are in Beaumont, Manhattan, Sweden, Grand Junction, Libertyville, Palatine, Tucson, Doniphan or elsewhere, they are still there. Maybe not scars, except for Jackie, because anyone who knows her will be scarred for life.

In an hour or so, Hilary will be here, and we will gallavant around St. Louis for a few hours before returning to CoMoSexual.

But, earlier this week, I decided to compile a nice little Alonzo-esque list of....

Things I've learned

*Now matter how much work you put into a place or a thing, the real test on whether or not you "get anything out of it" is whether or not you love(d) it or you enjoy(ed) doing it.
*Looking for a girlfriend or boyfriend or horsefriend or whateverfriend is pointless if you don't first have the friend before the girl. Or boy. Or horse. Or whatever.
*Most times we get offended, it's really just the ego showing us that we still have to control it.
*Telling other people how to live their lives or being just plain nasty are all symptoms that people are unhappy with how they are living their own lives.
*If you don't stand for something, you'll fall for anything. Or, if you don't have a good guiding principle or world-view, you'll fall for some pretty lame half-assed ones.
*It's possible to get through four years of college and not smoke pot.
*It's possible to live with pothead(s) for two-and-a-half years of that time and still not smoke pot.
*Columbia bars and clubs close too early.
*The real purpose of Denny's is to sit and relax with your friends and muse on life, love and whatever you did or didn't do that night, and not to marvel at the great service.
*If you think you've got "it" all figured out, you're probably just kidding yourself and thus are missing out on some of the best parts and nuances of life.
*Demerol, Percocet and Morphine are all Stage-II narcotics, so a girl who says she takes 10 or so a night is doing a killer number on her organs. Taking these pills is NOT like taking Claritin for your allergies, though I didn't know that when I was a fresh 19.
*Guys who belong in fraternities can figure out how to make the fun it the dorms last all four years, and thus, if you find the right ones, can be really fun guys with whom to hang out.
*Most girls have a personal story that goes along with "Like A Prayer." Or, if they don't have the story, they at least feel compelled to bug their eyes, gasp and jump on a table every time that song is played.
*More often than not, those girls grab me as an accessory.

Hi, friends.

I'd like to thank Amy for pointing out that Blogger has some new "options" for its users. Blogger is now cracked out and has all sorts of new features, not in the least of which being new blog templates.

Well!

You all know how I love playing around with blog templates. I do it like it's my job, and hell, in an ideal world, web design would be my job.

Anywho, some of you have already taken advantage of the new templates, and some of you have taken some of my tips on how to make your blogs look a little friendlier.

Now I implore you all for some tips...

Should I go for the gusto and do it myself?

The dear ol' WBBP has looked like this more or less since day one, except the top had album covers and not ghetto rap lyrics like, "I done been to this club fifty-eleven times."

Still, I'm torn as to what to do with this, or if I should leave the experimenting to my London blog and my next parent-friendly blog.

Thoughts? Suggestions? Death threats? Offers to have your husband clean my brains out? Or should we just leave that to Amy's blog?

I like how this new version of Blogger tells you how many posts it thinks you have. It's a little low, though. According to this counter, I've only posted one-hundred-and-thirty-eleven times. That's Lil Jon ghetto math for 141. That's so ign't, it's brilliant. And I love it.

But still, what shall I do with this here blog? Lay it on me.

From: Erin
To: Pat
Subject: Checkup

Hey darling,

I'm thinking about calling to see how you're feeling,
but I was afraid you might not feel like talking. Hit
me up and let me know how you're doing, okay?

Well, Erin, and rest of you well-wishers, thank you. I'm feeling okay. I don't miss my wisdom teeth, but I miss when I could eat McNuggets and cheeseburgers and pizza and I might send Dad out for some White Castles later if I feel up to it.

I didn't go "completely under" when the teeth came out, and I was instead on Novacaine (for the soul) and laughing gas. My orthodontist, whom I've known my whole life and has for that time called me nothing but "Paddy O'Reilly," suggested I bring in some headphones and music.

I had made a special CD, but then couldn't locate my headphones, and to boot, the batteries in the Discman were out of juice. No worries, though; the nurse at his office had both batteries and headphones.

So, here is the list of songs to which I rocked out while getting my wisdom teef removed:

Dr. S*d*n Yanked Out Mah Teef!: A Pat's Wisdom Teef Tribute Mix

Sir Mix-A-Lot, Put 'Em On The Glass
Michael Jackson, Don't Stop Till You Get Enough
Wham!, Last Christmas
Culture Club, Church Of The Poison Mind
General Public, Never You Done That
Duran Duran, Hungry Like The Wolf
Kevin Lyttle, Turn Me On
George Michael, Too Funky
Rick Astley, Never Gonna Give You Up
Black Eyed Peas, Shut Up
Duran Duran, Girls On Film
George Michael, Fast Love
General Public, Tenderness
Junior Senior, Move Your Feet
Alcazar, Sexual Guarantee
Skee-Lo, I Wish
Wham!, Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go
Michael Jackson, Wanna Be Startin' Somethin'

As you can see, I was still in the frame of mind from the Club Graffixxxxxxx CD that I was punting around in CoMo last weekend with one S-Gr*bb and ReuReuCaChoo. I had made one CD that just wasn't rocking my socks off, so we decided to call it the prototype, on which the actual soundtrack (most likely 2 CDs) would be based. Colleen didn't like referring to it as a prototype, as she couldn't divorce that word from the prototype that's been consuming her life for the last four months (hard to understand, I know).

I'm trying to think of a way to pep up this post so it's not so boring. I could insert political commentary, or witty musings about bonging sodas, or the "Friends" finale, or the time I made out with the lead singer of The Strokes, but no can do. I don't have the energy for the politics or the cola, the Friends finale was allright, though I couldn't be too much of a critic on it, because I stopped watching it after the first season. I was never a big follower of said show after the first season, as I did not appreciate it that Ross was going to get the girl of his dreams. I thought that was TV land being mean to all of us suckers out there who never got the girl. Of course, I was 13, and because nearly 10 years has passed, I figure I can bury the hatchet. That, and it's all over the Web and TV. I figure I might jump in on the band-wagon.

Here is a fun e-mail from Hilary about my plans to watch the aforementioned finale of said TV show:

Hope you enjoyed watching Friends. In fact, I've always hated that show. It's so goddamn annoying. It makes me hate white people even more. Maybe I should convert too.

She was referring to my desire to convert to being a black person. David and I used to discuss this, actually. He turned me on (ha) to Monique and the rest of the ladies of "The Original Queens of Comedy." And we also loved us some Missy Elliott. Damn, girl, nothin' like some big black women.

Well, upon my return to the States, I decided to watch a steady diet of BET Comic View. I ended up adding Dave Chappelle's and Chris Rock's shows to the mix, and now, each time I talk to Hilanarama, I decide that I want to be a black person. That I want to convert.

Would that be so wrong? Then Quarnisha might love me afterall.

Oh, this should get some comments. It might not be like the time I told my sorority sisters to LIE or the time I blew up a cannon or what-have-you, but this should garner some discussion.

And shit, we know "Friends" would be cooler if they had black people on it. Not that NBC knows what black people are. That's FOX's job.

Pat: You mean you've never heard "Git Low"?
Milena: No?
Pat: From the window, to the wall?
Milena: No...
Pat: Man, if you've bent over to the floor, touched your toes, bounced that ass up and down and gotten low, then have you ever even lived?

You know you're in CoMoSexual again when you hear that song at least once per day. It was good.

Because I had some J-school stuff to attend to upon arrival, I decided to park on Eighth, and well, when you park on Eighth, you have no choice but to let the magnet in Lee Hills Hall get you.

Liz: Oh... my... God! Reuben, look what the cat dragged in?!
Reuben: What? Oh, him? That's nothin'!

It was good to be back. Not much has changed there, except hairstyles (mentioned later in this post) and the gossip on who's sleeping with whom (not mentioned later in this post).

I did get to shake the booty with Ray, and discuss George Michael with S-Gr*bb and ReuReuCaChoo. I even got to hear Mike F. do his classic, "Yeaaah," but I did not get to hear him say, "Kool and the gaaang!"

Oh well, not every dog gets his day.

I think the Missourian highlight was the editors' barbecue (or as S-Gr*bb called it, the Barbie at the R**n*dy's). It was nothing but a chance for S-Gr*bb, ReuReu and moi to be the peanut gallery, and let me say, those two can make even me blush with their comments. Particularly the latter.

Erin: (following me singing along) From the windoooooow....
Pat: To the wall!
Erin: Man, that song is so sexist!
Pat: If it makes you feel any better, I learned about that song from a gay man.

Being back was such a culture shock, especially considering that it was my home and life for three years, and now we're all supposed to be getting weepy about leaving. I was able to do that in December, but still, as it is my nature, I am feeling introspective, and it was odd to see that as I crammed in as much as I could, I ended up re-living most of my college experience(s). Honestly.

No, there were no suicidal folks or dorm visits, nor were there half-naked Mormons, or fully naked Jews, but there were some weird things that made me think it was a session of "This Is Your Life."

I think the epitome of this feeling hit me when we were at Shattered on Saturday for 80s dance night. I was there with every roommate I've had in college with the exception of Jake and Gillian, but those two were present in spirit, as I ran into people from their pasts. The cast of characters was me, Hilary, Shaffer, Colleen, Crank, Keith, Lurch, Ochie, Shawn, my former roommie Mary, Becca's friend Alyssa, Michelle and a shitload of Alpha Chis and their moms, who were all in town for Moms' Weekend.

Weird shit, eh?!

Twinkies?!

Saw the PG bobble-head. Cute.

Some things different about CoMo:
*Erica has short hair. Longer than last time I saw it, but still short.
*Hilary has longer hair. Shorter than it was the first time I met her, but still longer than it was when I saw her last.
*Shaffer has bangs.
*Protz does, too, and long hair.
*Colleen's hair is all curly and what-have-you.
*Lurch is skinnier and has shorter hair. He seems much happier now, too.
*Cold Stone Creamery has filled the niche left by TCBY oh so many years ago.
*Reuben is letting it all hang out. Right in his face.