College Living... Don't be Jealous.

So I'd like to start this off by saying hey, whats up, this is my blog. I'm Katie, a sophomore at the University of Illinois in Urbana-Champaign. That's all you really get to know. Well, ok, I'm an art major. There, nothing else.

I'm going to keep this short and sweet for now, I mean, class is starting relatively soon so I can't babble on and on about whats going on in my life right now. So I guess... I guess I'll start off with a story about how apartment living was, in one fell swoop, reduced to the level of dorm living last night. Now, I like my roommate fine, she's a nice girl, but our doors do not block as much sound as the realtors said they do. In fact, I'm pretty sure they amplify sound.

Now, I'd gone to bed at a reasonable time for me, around 12:30am. I had a 9am class in the morning so I figured it would be a good idea to take some medicine and sleep in an effort to fend off the cold that was starting to emerge. Seriously, I have the immune system of an infant. 3 weeks of class and I'm already sniffling and have a sore throat, its pathetic. My roommate was out at the bars as she doesn't have class early on Wednesday and whatever, that's fine, its her deal and its not like we share a room so I figured she wouldn't wake me up when she came home.

Oh boy, was I ever wrong.

She came in around 2:30am, talking to some guy. Neither was obnoxiously drunk, but they were definitely not sober. She wasn't being loud, but for some reason it woke me up. I guess my spidey sense that someone was about to come annoy me was tingling and woke me up to prepare me for what was about to happen. When I heard her say his name, I realized that it was our neighbor, whose apartment I had gotten embarrassingly drunk in and passed out in the previous weekened. Obviously, that meant we were BFFs, even though I don't remember a whole lot [though I soon found out he was the Big Black to my Rob]. I guess he'd been worried about me after I had been carried out of his apartment on Saturday and wanted to come and see me.

It was like slow motion. I could hear them walking to my room, he wondering if the closed door was mine and she saying that it was, but it might be locked. Well, it wasn't locked. Hearing the handle turn, I made a last ditch effort to pretend that I was still asleep so that they'd leave me alone. I mean, they weren't that drunk, right? Wrong. They started calling my name, my lights were flipped on and I was repeatedly tapped on the head with a bright orange frisbee that he'd picked up from my floor. Annoyed, I finally got up. My roommate informed me that she'd brought my Big Black to me and he expressed his happiness that I survived the weekend after passing out in his bathroom, then proceeded to ask me if I wanted to go play beer pong at his place that very second. Um, no, I don't. Its Tuesday night at 2:30 in the morning.

He pressed the invitation for a few minutes before giving up, petting my hair awkwardly and telling me to come to his place on Friday to party.

And then he took my frisbee.