Girl Talk

I haven’t had a nice, peaceful weekend at home since I moved in, and from the looks of it, I’m not going to get one for another month. Maybe not even. This weekend I go to Mexico, I come back next weekend just in time for Paul’s spring break, which will carry into the following weekend, and the weekend after that I’ll probably go visit him.

This past weekend, I went back home for a haircut. It’s nice and short now, perfect for Mexico. While I wasn’t hanging out at my parents’ house with Duke, I was hanging out at Marion’s. Her parents were gone, so she hosted a wild party complete with Girl Talk and Truth or Dare Jenga.

Girl Talk is the silliest game ever, and we’re pretty sure some of the dares–like calling the operator and asking for the number to the White House–are illegal. The point distribution is also illogical, and we’re pretty sure the zit-sticker adhesive actually can cause zits, especially since at this point it’s probably around 15 years old.

Jenga was wonderful, though. Somehow, I’d never played before, except for maybe one time as a child. Apparently, I caught on quickly, and Marion, Emily, Brett, and I were involved in a very long, intense game that left the tower teetering on a total of six single-block layers. We lasted several rounds longer than I expected and got very nervous during them.

Naturally, alcohol was consumed and secrets were shared and good times were had. Sunday we went to the flea market, where Marion spent $25 on records, which probably got her about 25 records.


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