First and foremost: ask rogan has been updated, and my latest column is up over at yourcollegelife.


...


Now. About last night.

Who knows where to begin. The shopping with my roommate, Lori? The haircut scare? (Don't worry everyone... I made it through with only and inch and a half trim!!) The last minute addition to our group, Rick? The snow falling as we waited in line to get into the pub? The boy with green eyes who tried to help us get in faster? The glow from Allison and Matt that is nothing short of contagious? The ridiculously tasty chicken strips? The ugly guy all of us kissed to get beads? That short guy that punched Allison in the face? The fact that a third of the people there went to high school with me? The humorous trips to the bathroom? Me stealing the clover headband? The countless cigarettes I bummed from various fine young gentlemen throughout the evening? The Killian's? The Car Bomb? The Hardcore Cider? Lori making out with that guy who was "so not her type." Or maybe me making out with the one guy who didn't have to wait for me to approach him first? Yes. I think that would be a splendid place to begin.

It is sinful how good it feels to be the object of someone's attention. Well not just any someone. A someone who you'd love to talk to but fear rejection from. A someone you were making your way over to get a beer to just "accidentally" bump into. A someone who beat you to it.

His smile was so crooked. So off balanced and imperfect. So fucking delicious. He could dance. He wanted to dance. He held my hand. He let me spin him around. He introduced me to his friends (one of which was in my spanish class back in jr. high). He stumbled over his words. Said I made him nervous. Got mad at me for giving him shit over and over... especially since he was "trying so hard."

I told him to stop trying. And we said goodbye at least 20 times before he finally stopped kissing me.

Leaving out countless little details that I would rather keep for myself, in conclusion... I did not achieve either of my goals. I ended up driving (and getting my car locked in the garage over night... but we don't need to dwell on that part of the evening), so I couldn't get drunk. Five drinks and a car bomb later... I would have made my Irish ancestors proud.

And well... while I didn't go home with anyone (Lori and Rick don't count), I can't say that I didn't get a little play. And I had a moment of weakness when I called drum guy just to "say hello." Not looking forward to dealing with the "you totally left me a drunken message on my voicemail" conversation, but hey.

It was a damn good night. And I look damn good in green.