The Unfortunate Chain of Events that Occur on Friday, Saturday and Sunday that I Call a Weekend

Wow, I'm back. Thought I'd never write again. But, it wouldn't be right if I wasn't able to give you guys a vision of "The Unfortunate Chain of Events that Occur on Friday, Saturday and Sunday that I Call a Weekend." Let's just say the last three times that I have been out drinkin, they have all been crazy in their own special way. It starts Valentine's Day with my absolute crunkness. Was I looked down upon for drinking on a Monday night, yes, but it was a reason to drink. You out there in mortal world consider it a Hallmark holiday (which I do as well), but now it is a drinking holiday, or as I'd call it "A good excuse to get fucked up and tell the one you love how you really feel about her." I've now come to the realization that love is a moment that two people share when they have major mental brain cramps. Like when the Red Sox sold Babe Ruth to the Yankees for the rights to some dumb fucking musical. Like when the Cubs traded Brock for Broglio. Like the 1982 NCAA championship when dude from Georgetown passed it to James Worthy thinking Worthy (FROM UNC) was a teammate. Like in 1984, when Portland decided they needed a big man and decided to pass on a shooting guard from North Carolina named Michael Jordan. Like in 1986, where I got one word for ya: Buckner. I can go on forever, but I think you get the point. One day, I'll find that true love that the moment we have isn't weakness, but instead combined strength that makes two people happy. I digress to bring you back to this weekend.
I'll start with Saturday cuz that was fun. My roommate got trashed and has spent today pissed off at me cuz me and my friend from U of I got to see this really hot chick flash. I guess he wasn't paying attention, I coulda swore that he was paying attention next to me, guess not. If it wasn't for the horny, selfish greedy high schoolers there, she woulda flashed earlier. Girl was fine as hell, perfect face, perfect body and she knew how to move. I'd like a girl like that for at least one night. I got minor buzz, nothing worth writing about. I had to take care of my drunken roomie, but it was much easier this time compared to my old roomie. Then there was Friday...
Yeah, okay, wow, that was weird. My friend from U of I came in at 9:15 and him, my roommate and I went out to the Pit, to show him a good time, you know to show him what Carbondale was all about. A couple of hours and more than a couple of drinks in, my roommate had to take a drunken friend of ours back to the dorms. That totally killed his buzz. I wanted to go, because it was around 12:15 and I had just had a long day dealing with tickets.com and Cubs people all day on the phone. They didn't need my help, so I decided that it'd be cool that we stay for a little bit, let me enjoy the rest of my drinks continuing my buzz. However, I had one problem, a friend of mine had stayed behind and I just had the feeling that I should stay to watch out for her. This is what you call a moment of weakness. This is when you let feelings for someone dictate your night. But this is the right thing to do, no matter how much you like a girl. So, I was done with drinking, until I ended up buying her and I a drink. One of the reasons I'm a broke college student. Roommates will eat you out of your dorm room, but women will drink your pocket dry and won't regret a thing. The only thing you get is a thanks and a nice frienship hug. The thanks and the friendship hug (which I didn't even get the next morning) wasn't worth what I had to deal with that night. Five "last beers" later, we left to the streets of Carbondale with one drunk, one sober and one pissed off Rican that lost his buzz because of that damned moment of weakness. We walked home and I heard the same things over and over again, like I was home listening to B-96 (Chicagoans know what I'm talking about.) "Aren't you impressed I can remember your name?" she told my buddy from U of I. When she called her friend and was talking about her friend, she just kept telling her about the guy she liked that had a boyfriend and all, and blah blah blah. It got repetitive over time. Then it was my personal favorite, when she was tlking about the guy that liked her, and it came out of nowhere to her and she turned him down. Yeah you know who that guy was...ME GODDAMMIT! And everytime she told her friend the story, the look was at me, and only me. As she stumbled through the streets asking us to walk ahead of her, we knew it wasn't safe for her to walk by herself. So basically we pinballed her. Because of that ingenious strategerie, I almost died: not once, not twice but thrice (trice?), yeah three times. I almost got hit by a car by Jimmy John's subs because she wanted to walk out in the middle of the street when we didn't have the right away, as I walked in to the street to pull her back, I almost got hit by a speeding Tracker. I almost got hit by another car while crossing a median, trying to keep her on her feet and out of the intersection while cars were coming. Then once again by the Rec center where another car almost clipped me while I tried to save her. When we got back, she even tried to run away, but unfortunately (though it was great comic relief at the time) tripped over her own two feet. But the best part of that night was being stopped by a random white woman who gave my friend the third degree. "Do you know these guys?" "Do you know where they're taking you?" she asked. And since my pal was in no shape to answer, I answered for her. I explained that she's a friend that lived on my floor and I was just taking her back to her room. That was it. Until she turned around and I damn near yelled out "I HATE BEING COLORED!" That's the only thing that has been running through my mind this weekend. I finally do the right thing, I do the right thing for God's sake and there are still second guesses about it. And I know for damn sure that if I was a white person, there would have been NO QUESTIONING INVOLVED IN MY NIGHT! I woulda just been another white boy bringing back another drunk white girl. No, since I'm colored, I'm automatically assumed to be the worst thing for that situation. Even my friend who's white but tanned felt bad. So to all of you who say "I want to black or I want to be this because of affirmative action and teh scholarships or whatever" I have this to say to you. Being colored has its benefits, and I wouldn't change myself for the world, but I tell you this: In this world, my application is looked over twice because I'm hispanic. In interviews, I'm looked at in a different light, because I'm hispanic. Everyone sees the hispanic stereotypes and can't put those aside for common interviews and I go unappreciated in a common gesture of courtesy. People don't see me for who I am, they see the worst stereotype you can think of. The 5 foot 9 inch with a backwards cap, medium complexion with a black shirt and blue jeans that is out on the loose for (fill in the criminal charge here). But no one ever see's the white negatives. Didn't a white guy blow up the Oklahoma building? Wasn't it white kids that shot up schools in Arkansas and in Colorado? Wasn't Andrew Cunnanan white? I'm stretching it a little, but you know what, no one looks at the bad stereotypes of whites. So I just wanna tell everyone to be glad and proud of what you are and not to change for the world! I honestly thought we've taken a step forward in this world when it came to bullshit like that, we obviously haven't. I thought we as a society were above that, I guess not. This is what makes me want to go live off on an island somewhere by myself. I hate being colored sometimes.
Back to my story, so yeah. I just felt like shit, and have felt like shit about that whole situation all weekend. Here's my teary eyed confession: I like this girl, A LOT! The best personality in any girl I've ever met in my life. Someone I can talk to and just before I go all out and end up crying myself to sleep, someone who deserves a really good person and someone I honestly care about. I'm pissed off at myself that I couldn't tell her how I felt sober, I had to do it drunk. I feel like shit cuz I feel that I've blown a good opportunity with a good girl. But she's dwelling on the past, which is what I'm basically doing here. Difference is, I don't know what the difference is, but you know what, I'm not every fucking guy that just wants to fuck and duck. I'm better than that and that is why I hate this place. It's all about quick dick and easy pussy, and then there's me, no long term relationships, no serious girlfriends, that just wants something not necessarily serious, but something of substance. And when you finally filter through the shit in the system and find a good person and they want nothing to do with you, that feels worse than games 5, 6 and 7 combined. Worse than anything that I've been through. It's the exact opposite feeling compared to what happened Saturday at the hoops game. Another One Bites the Dust is the perfect song for me. Because as I get older, everyone will be settling down while I will end up settling for something that isn't up to my level. My friends all tell me I deserve better than what I got and I take a lot of shit from acquaintances about still being a college virgin, but why stoop why settle? And as happy as I can be about being that V-word, you have to think about your surroundings and what's going on. My response to the critics: I'm in FUCKING CARBONDALE! Come down here and see what I have to work with, hoes, wanna be hoes, walking STDs and finally FINALLY when you get to a quality girl, she's either taken or not interested. I know I can't change her opinion. But I can let it be known because of a forum like this how I feel. I need to be home, by myself. Or better yet, living in solitude, isolation, in a cave with only my music and sports (Cubs, Bears, Bulls, UNC, DeP & SIU hoops along with Michigan and Miami (FL.) Football). And my journal to write about the cool dampness of the cave. Before I leave, I'm honestly tempted to stick my tongue down her throat with the message, "This is what you missed out on bitch!" and walking away. But I wouldn't do that. I wasnt raised like that and could not honsetly live with myself if I ever did that to a woman. So, I guess I take back what I just said. But at least for God's Sake, I just want an explanation when it comes to what I said to her on Valentine's day night. I wanna relive it, I want to know what I said, so I can say it sober so she could take me seriously and see me for what I am insted of some drunken buffoon that she probably thinks just wants a piece of ass. Believe me, as much as that comes off on me with some of my actions, I'm not all about that, I'm above it. I want a Yes or No and an explanation, no bullshit, just truth, even if the truth hurts cuz guess what I've been hit hard before by a woman's words and guess what I'm still here ain't I. YESSS!!!! Motherfuckers! As I leave you with this teary eyed message, I leave you with this final thought. Tell me why I'm treated the way I am. Is something wrong with me, seriously. Because if there is, I'd like to fix it, because I just wanna get all of this bullshit over with. I'm sick of being in college surrounding myself with self-inflicted high school drama. Shit like this drove me to drinking, it'll take something powerful to drive me away from drinking in these situations. Good night, so long from Carbondale aka Dumpsville, Population: Me.