God must have a wicked sense of humor. After spending the better half of Friday afternoon swearing off all burritos until I am either 50 or get a gastric band, I ended up eating yet another burrito on Saturday, but it was completely against my will. It just so happened that California Tortilla was catering the lunch at my monthly mentoring get together (I'm kind of like a big sister to a DC area student but much, much cooler) and naturally I had missed breakfast that morning so I was so starving. I devoured that burrito while inside, I was crying silently. Now do you see how many problems I have and what a struggle it is for me to live?
Anyways, after a quick nap I met up with some friends to see DC United play LA Galaxy. Surprisingly DC United did not lose. Not so surprisingly, they still sucked. My town's peewee league plays better than half the players on that team. Ben Olson needs to pick his game up.
Anyways after the game we were ambushed by the 10,000 or so people who were heading to the DC Armory to see Tiesto. Now why do people associate house music with outfits that consist of ripped fishnet tights and neon bras? Is there some subliminal message hidden in the beat that commands you to come dressed like a baby prostitute who raided Madonna's closet circa 1980? Put the scissors down and put some pants on.
Anyways, we all headed to Adams Morgan for a party of a girl that all the international students live with. She was hosting a goodbye party for herself as she was leaving the country to head back home to Texas. After my little foray into the south, I am now convinced that travel below the Mason-Dixon line should require both some sort of visa and a series of vaccinations.
The party was at District which was wonderfully overrated. They did have a cool rooftop where people who you verbally bitchslapped could follow you and make you feel uncomfortable for an extended period of time because your feet hurt too much so you might as well just sit and listen to him bitch at you for thirty minutes. So yeah, that was fun.
Also shame on District for making it literally impossible to subtly stash your jacket behind some couch. Unless you're willing to shell out $5 for coat check (which let's face it, I'm not. $5 buys me many more valuable things in life- like burritos from California Tortilla) then get ready to throw your jackets and pocketbooks in the middle of a circle and dance around them a la Dane Cook style. District is not for poor people. Reef, however is. Reef is also good for men over 50 who just got a new blood pressure medicine and are feeling alive again and thus also feel the need to hit on girls who are literally half their age.
On that note, I leave you all to try to sleep. Except the management of my dorms thinks that turning the heat up so that it is a comfortable 80 degrees makes it mildly impossible for me to actually sleep. So instead I stay up late watching videos of babies look petrified and baby animals cuddling with stuffed animals.
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