On moving to Boston.

On January 1st 2003 I moved from New York City to Boston Massachusetts to attend Northeastern University. What you see above is exactly what I looked like when I arrived. Short, messy black hair, cat-eye glasses, swollen lips, and a bruise the size of Jupiter on my chin. I was a sexy sexy beast. Let me tell you why I looked like that.

On December 31st 2002 it was really warm out. Freakishly warm. Approximately 50 degrees, if I remember correctly. Because of this the party I was at spilled out of the apartment and on to the roof. It was gorgeous outside and we were drunk, so it seemed like a wonderful idea! While up there a guy named Brett (who was approximately 5'6") was bet $20 that he could not beat a girl named Lizzie (who was approximately 6'1") in a wrestling match. He took the bet and the rest of the party gathered around to watch. (Again, we were happy about the weather and, oh man, druuunk.) So Brett and Lizzie wrestled and Brett won to the sound of boos and jeers coming from the female members of the crowd. Now all the girls want to wrestle this dude. One after another went up, and all of them lost. One, two, three, four, five...he took them all out. One after another. So I decide to go up. I had been drinking vodka cranberry's pretty steadily for approximately five hours at this point and it seemed like an AWESOME idea. As you may have judged from the picture above: it was not.

Brett and I began to wrestle and he (after what could only have been thirty seconds) pinned me. I. Was. Pissed. So I ran...and I dove...and Brett moved. And I dove face first into the roof. I don't think I will ever forget the "OOHHHHHHHHH!" from the crowd that followed that spectacular face-plant. I left the party in tears. My left hand was swollen to twice its normal size. My knees had criss-cross bruises on them from my fishnet stockings. My feet were killing me from the four inch heels I was wearing. Oh yes. I rooftop wrestled a dude while wearing a skirt and heels. I am one classy bitch.

The next morning I woke up in a horribly painful fog. My friend Will was going to be there to pick my mother and I up in less than an hour and I was not done packing! So I threw the last of my stuff into a suitcase and hauled it downstairs. (I did not shower. I threw on some clothes and tried not to throw up) When Will arrived we discovered that my suitcases? That I had spent the last week packing? Would not fit in the car. In a last minute hungover decision my mother and I shoved everything into garbage bags and shoved them into the trunk. Guh.

Approximately four hours and one stop at McDonald's later, we arrived in front of my new dorm. Will helped us drag the bags and my desk top(!) computer up to the third floor and left us to head to his own dorm. My mother and I were confronted with an entirely blond family. My roommate, her mother, her older brother and her little sister. We were confronted with a flowered designer comforter and fucking pink TOE-SHOES hanging from the bed. Keep in mind that I am at this point dark haired and had an almost entirely black wardrobe. I have not showered. I probably reeked of vodka. They all introduced themselves and announced quite happily that they were going to Target. (Pronounced "Tar-jay"). After the door clicked shut my mother lit a cigarette, turned to me and said, "This is not going to work."

Luckily, she was wrong and my first college roommate and I are still good friends. But our first meeting always makes for one heck of a story. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves