Sifting through the weekend wreckage

So this has been a pretty rough week for the ladies of 905. There's been quite a bit of comfort eating (bags and bags of chocolate Easter eggs), a lot of late night pillow talking, significant amounts of girl-on-girl cuddling and a few tears (per second).

Naturally, since it was such a crappy week for all of us, Thursday through Sunday was a super massive explosion of pent-up stress, depression, anger and the general antsy-ness that accompanies being sick of school and tired of going to a zillion terribly managed meetings. Well, actually, this weekend was basically a whole semester's worth of stress reaching an all-time pinnacle and shit hitting the fan all at once. A few highlights...

1. Getting my entire social outfit in the pj section of Target = best idea ever. Coming back from social and asking my roommate to stick her fingers in my eyes and take out my contacts = worst idea ever. Stuffing my face with bacon, egg and cheese on an everything bagel the next morning at Einstein's with my Tila Tequila roommate = worth the scarred corneas.

2. I understand that love is a battlefield, but Pat Benetar failed to warn us that we would be fighting a full-on war here. I know you shouldn't hate the player, you should hate the game, but it's not the game who is texting you at one in the morning breaking your heart, so I think I'll go ahead and kick the player in the face, since the metaphorical game isn't around to get its ass whooped by my scrappy 98-pound roommate.

3. Friends. Are. Golden. Bits. Of. Sunshine. Dust. Yes, attention from guys is good fun and all, but in the end, it will be your friends who force you to drink four cups of water because they know you have to write a paper in the morning and they are well aware that your creative juices can't flow when your head is stuck under an elephant's foot.

They will pry the cell phone out of your clammy, beer-covered drunk hand and tell you that you're being a pathetic mess for even considering texting him right now. They will sit around on a Saturday morning and go over every detail of every conversation you had with every member of the opposite sex to search for hidden clues and secret meanings that will somehow let them know whether it's OK to text them first this morning.

4. There are never any hidden clues or secret meanings.

5. Since I already grocery shopped, Facebook stalked, cleaned, cooked and caught up on e-mails, I couldn't think of any more ways to procrastinate my 12-page paper. What did I do? Asked my roommate whether she wanted to go on an adventure, got my ear pierced by a woman who was hungover and admitted to drinking 40 ounces of Natty Light with her boyfriend's dad because she was pissed at her boyfriend and wanted to get day drunk.

Following that gem of an experience, I had the best bacon cheeseburger of my life. If you haven't gone to Cookout, go now. It is life-changing. I may never eat anywhere else. The burgers along with chocolate comfort eating ... chances my pants will fit after college? Slim to none.

6. Best way to make the boy your roommate brought home feel comfortable? Ask him what size shoes he wears and then make him do a full body turn when he gets out of the bed so you can judge his physique while you're still wearing your costume from social the night before. Welcome to 905.

Clearly I lacked a cohesive topic to write about this week. Anyone have any ideas for rambles that might be appropriate for my article for next week? And by "appropriate" I'm sure you know I mean "inappropriate and way too socially awkward for anyone who actually has boundaries or social decorum to write about."

E-mail me, Facebook me, text me, leave a Post-it note on my apartment door ... anything -- I'm desperate and needy and clingy and all the things that demand insane amounts of attention. Jokes, not true, but for realsies, I need some ideas, people. Or dates -- both would be phenom.