Picking Cotton and Late Night Conversations

Okay so I remember what happened Saturday. I must have buried it deep beneath my psyche to forget about the trauma I endured of being sold... yes you read that properly I was sold. I now have a master.

So Saturday of last week, so that means the 24th of February, Roshanee's Sorority had a Date Auction. Abizer was in town and apparently was not intimidated by the so-called college crowd. The night progressed without any digressions. That is until I was called up to stage to be auctioned off...

When a Fraternity boy bid on me for $300.00, Abizer quite swiftly spat out $500.00. I think it would be an understatement that the crowd was mystified by this display of masculine pride between the two men. The Fraternity boy thought "ha-ha. Fine." We all thought he had finally accepted defeat against the mighty Alpha male...as the audience waited with held breaths, the Fraternity boy yelled out $510.00. Everyone was shocked and in hysteria as if the plague had been reintroduced into the population. All turned their heads towards Abizer. He yawned and said...nothing. Minutes slowly ticked away on the now looming wall clock. Still nothing was uttered from the Alpha male. The announcer started his countdown...$510.00 going once...$510.00 going twice...All turned their heads towards the Fraternity boy who was now shrinking into his own shadow... he looked at me with disgust now.. Thinking to himself... "Momma’s going to kill me"... I looked from the boy on stage who was profusely sweating... to the man in the audience, who everyone had their eye's on... He looked up at me and saw the confusion and hurt in my eyes... and smiled. He then deftly yelled out...$525.00.....The fraternity boy who was withering away from dehydration due to the profuse tearing and sweating... stumbled away.. while I ran off stage into the arms of my master...

After that we went to Uno's... our usual after school hang out. That in itself is quite the conundrum... we know the food sucks and we know the service is better at a gas station... but we still all congregate amongst the overly decorated walls crying for simplicity while having a canoe jabbed into their left corner wall.

After Uno's with the DPO girls where I easily self inducted myself as Sister Giggles, a waiter who was socially withdrawn, and issues over who was going out...we went to a house party at 649. The street name and person living there has long been forgotten but the infamous apartment number is burned into everyone's memory. Once there... the usual nothingness permeated.. beer pong, hookah, and screaming conversations which the cops could easily hear 5 blocks away at their precinct.

We decided to leave 649 and head home... where Abizer, Ann, Afjal and I... (I have a habit of surrounding myself with people named with the letter A) played Sorry and spoke about topics ranging from why Ann can't look someone in the eye when speaking to them, to why Abizer would deny he was sleeping when he would randomly join the conversation with the oddest personal statement.

The A's in my life... (Alf and Anish are missing from the photo though...)

If you can't see it properly they are making an A symbol with their hands.

That was my weekend...