Just a Body In a Room

DB Bro Barbie: I only describe her as such because that’s what you first see. It’s her very distinct DB (drunk bitch) voice and a seemingly typical Bro attitude that’s first seen. But you’ll soon be proven wrong. Below her fashion major exterior, is a sensitive, kind, compassionate, and smart soul that’s sure to win you over.

Due to her first impression, I didn’t really have much of an interest to get to know her as more than acquaintances. But the more time I spent with her, the layers began to peel back. One night she’ll sit cigarette in one hand, my little pony in the other, and on another, she’ll stay up and bare her soul. I was floored when I learned just how much hurt this sweet soul has endured. With ten tons on her shoulders, she trucks on through her days with a smile on her face.

John Doe: Although he was only nameless for a time, he’ll remain nameless here. My meeting with John Doe was arranged as a class exercise, but to my surprise, we actually hit it off. Ya know, I never noticed till now, but it seems the things that brought us closer together were all coincidental. Looks like fate is on my side.

Due to his genius in his field, he’s already created a name for himself at Savannah College of Art and Design. Odds were defeated when this freshman in his first quarter won a contest. Now, every film professor and student knows his name. Not only a mastermind, but he’s also generous. He gladly shares his knowledge with anyone who’ll listen, and it’s something your’s truly has benefited from. He’s focused my eyes to see what’s right in front of them, and now, I have a whole new appreciation for the things we watch on the big screen or television set.

Beneath his snappy threads and good looks, is passion, wit, intelligence, and a smashing sense of humor; indeed, he is all that and a bag of chips.

As promised, prepare yourself for some dirt dishing. There are very few people I dislike, but once you’re on my shit list, everybody, including yourself, will know. Nothing irritates me more than that middle school two-faced bullshit. So, if you’re a pal of mine, please don’t sweat over these descriptions. There’s a great chance that it isn’t you.

“The Chancellor”: I didn’t even deem him as so. This name, my friends, was coined at his command. He saw himself fit to be a king, the king of the fortress. He would blow his loud, bellowing conch and as it echoed through the parking lot, all were alerted to take cover. Women clutched their purses close and struggled to cover any exposed skin. He was notorious for rubbing unwilling backs and smooching cheeks when unwelcome. When “The Chancellor” wants to set off lethal fireworks in the parking lot, all you bystanders should know that it’s your responsibility to duck and cover. I’m sure he was sweet to some, but my eyes never saw a virtuous trait.

There’s not much more to say than that, because fortunately for us all, he was a flick on the radar. However, “The Chancellor” is in fact well-known to many, and in turn, holds a place in our memories.

Satan’s Psychotic Skanky Spawn: Need I say more?

My first impression of this little Skank was memorable to say the least. Mr. Owl had really started to grow on the gang when suddenly, poof!, he disappeared. Unbeknownst to us, he was falling under the spell of Satan’s Psychotic Skanky Spawn. One afternoon, he came out to the sweet spot (the table) and right at his heels were the Track Star and the devil’s daughter, herself. I sat and watched in wonder as she stroked, smelled, and slobbered all over every male in the vicinity. I can understand a flirtatious disposition, but she did this every single time I saw her.

If you’ve read any of my other blogs, you may’ve gathered that infidelity is something I despise. Well, I later found out that the Track Star had a girlfriend, and I’m sure his girlfriend was unaware of his dirty little fuck buddy. However, this Skank knew damn well that he wasn’t available. Oh, but someone who’s actually single wouldn’t be any fun! NO SIR’EE. She needs to wedge  herself in the middle of every relationship just to prove to herself that she is the dominant female. This leads into my next point…

During the very short period when Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Jackass and myself had “feelings” for one another, the first stress was caused by her. After Mr. Owl told her, not once, not twice, but three times that we had something going on and to let us be, what does she do? She seduces him. Body fluids were not exchanged, thank god, because it ceased before getting that far. (Oh, that’s just the beginning…) Well, the psychotic bitch approached that Compassionate Ball of Fire and claimed she couldn’t “go all the way” because of me. Aw, what a sweet girl, what a saint.

Later on, Dr. Jekyll/Mr.  Jackass and the Compassionate Ball of Fire discussed the situation. He started out tip-toeing around the subject, but she reassured him that this wasn’t new information. She elaborated on the extent of her knowledge, and Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Jackass was appalled at what he heard. He had stopped the sexing, not she, because he was the one with a conscience, of course!

To wrap it up, he got mad at the Skank, so the Skank got mad at the Compassionate Ball of Fire. The straw that broke the camel’s back was that she had the fucking gall to confront her. Hell no, not in my house.

As if all of this wasn’t enough, Satan’s Psychotic Skanky Spawn is the kind of person who embellishes and exaggerates her own problems, cuts herself, takes pictures of it and sets it as her screen-saver, as well as smearing the blood all over herself, then goes outside to show everyone just how pathetic she is, and refuses to wipe it off. Lastly, she’s created issues with every single person I hold dear. She even took one beef to an all new level, she shoved DB Bro Barbie.

Now that you’ve met some of the best and some of the worst, my stories should make a little more sense. There are still a handful of people who play an important role in my day-to-day, but I can only do so many at a time. I’ll keep you posted on all of our crazy shenanigans, but unfortunately, you’ll have to wait a month or so.

In my previous blog, I only dipped a toe into the pool of people I’m anxious to portray to you. So, allow me now, to pick up where I left off…

Boy Too Big for his Britches: Let me set the stage for you. We’re sitting at the local, tolerable eatery, enjoying our normal veggie pizza, stir fry, or hamburger. As usual, we were picking, prodding, and poking fun at one another. It was after two plates of stir fry that this character decided he’d have dessert.

“I’m a man!” shouts the young XY in retaliation to the hail storm of insults addressing his endearing, childlike nature.

“Says the boy eating neon colored cereal.” That witty Compassionate Ball of Fire strikes again, leaving the rest of us rolling and him stunned.

This moment in particular truly embodies this Boy Too Big for his Britches. He’s notorious for stopping by our rad pad for a bowl of cereal, easy mac, or just to torment. He often interjects others’ stories with his own that normally end reiterating his superiority.  But you see, he balances these occasional negativities with some of the sincerest compliments I’ve ever heard. You know that when he says you look pretty today, you look fucking pretty today.

Not only is he a true character in his actions, but his work, oh my god, his work. It’s sensational. He will be the first to tell you that he needs to be the best at everything. But in the field of illustration and design, he knows his shit.

His jokes, comments, stories, and over all thought process is so shockingly similar to my dear friend, Marques, that I can’t help but love him.

Papa Pool Shark: Line it up, hit through the cue ball, and swing straight. Note, the side pockets are harder to sink it into than the corners… All very useful tips I’ve received, but have yet to master. Papa Pool Shark is the most badass mother fucker I’ve ever met, and I have him to thank for my slight progress in the game of pool. However, he doesn’t let this talent blind him into thinking he’s the best, the man. He’ll be the first to give you a pointer, the last to boast, and he always plays fair. He’s been somewhat of my private tutor in the sport for the last half of the quarter or so.

After pulling an all nighter, we decided to rack up. There was one change to the game though, he was going to play the entire time behind his back. To even the score, of course. Embarrassing for me, a little, but what a sight it was to see.

I’ll never forget the first real conversation we had. The setting: the table outside, the cast: the normal bunch of people, including nearly all of the ones stated. However, Papa Pool Shark and I somehow created our own conversation. Eager and energetic, he showed me some extraordinary photographs and we started talking art. I was just shocked by what was occurring. Coming from a town where knowledge of art is a rarity, I found this conversation exhilarating and refreshing. His well educated mind and passion for the craft was extraordinary, and I remember him making a comment about your’s truly being on the same level as him. It may sound pompous, but he took the words right out of my mouth.

Next year, I’m hoping he’ll still live just down the hall from me, but in a new setting. My closest group of friends, him included, have discussed our living arrangements for next year, and the consensus is to transfer to a new abode. Something large and comfy, a place where creativity will take over like AIDS in Africa, and we can all live harmoniously. Even if the group of people does dwindle down to a few, as long as Papa Pool Shark is around to give his two cents, share stories and a laugh or two, I’m down for the count.

Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Jackass:You see, when the moon light shines bright, and the time’s just right, Dr. Jekyll goes into hiding, and Mr. Jackass rears his  ugly head. My feelings for Dr. Jekyll were special ones, for a while at least. But the flakier he got, the more drama he brought. The problem is that his beautiful mind is so clouded with an irrevocable bitch cloud. He’ll lift you up, but he’ll also shove you down.

He belongs in this section because he is a remarkable person. It’s just a pity that he’s also a chronic floater. By floater, I mean he’ll always be in a new group, and he’ll always want to come back to the old ones.

I shan’t go into deeper detail, because I really have no intention of hurting feelings. But I do want you to know that this person exists. Although he can be brilliant and charming, he’ll inevitably become Mr. Jackass.

Kool Kat: Another cat reference, yes, but it has duel meaning. For one, her physical features are reminiscent of a feline’s in that her eyes, nose, and mouth are all perfectly spaced apart and flawlessly shaped. And to describe her as chill would be an understatement. I suppose the final reason for associating her with a cat is my way of showing how much I truly admire her and enjoy her company.

My first impression of her was a fairly neutral one. She seemed relaxed and she was always friendly, but I never really spent too much time with her at the start of the quarter. However, as time progressed, we saw more and more of each other. The more I saw, the more I liked. I just can’t stress to you how fucking cool she is. It’s not that she’s into anything unusual or has any crazy talents, it’s just her over all disposition,  personality, and way of seeing the world. I’ve never once witnessed a thread of disloyalty, and her words and compliments are sincere. All desirable traits, very desirable.

To save both her and my reputations, I won’t go into depth about any stories. In person maybe, in person.

Sweet Stranger: Approximately two weeks ago, we opened our dorm room door to a baby wrapped in a blanket with a note attached, “Please feed my baby.” Ha, I’m just jerking your chain, but in all seriousness, a fugitive lived about a week in room 129. She was a stranger to all of us from the start, but by the end of her stay, we all fell head-over-heels for this girl.

Due to a flaky friend, this Sweet Stranger had no place to stay during her visit to Savannah. So, naturally, my other roommate offered our floor. Little did we know that she was here to stay, but for not quite long enough.

Over the course of the week, she spent a fair amount of time with us, sharing her art, stories, and opinions. She was rich with knowledge and what came out of her mouth was worth listening to. One afternoon, your’s truly slept a little late (big fat surprise) and I was going to be late for class. However, for some unexplainable reason, I didn’t give a damn. But that Sweet little Stranger insisted that she take me to class in her icy blue Batmobile. My navigational handicap set us back a bit, but in the end her map reading skills prevailed and we made it there right in the nick of time. Little things, it’s the little things, that really let a person’s true character shine through.

Just the other day, she came back to visit us. As well as a big grin and an excellent hugs, she also brought a big brown bag for us. “Open it!”, she said. Inside was a picture and letter thanking us, flattering us, and leaving us with her digits and address. Below the letter, was a little jar of honey (the best honey, mind you), honey roasted coffee (because we seeded this new addiction in this poor child), and a box full of pastries, fancy ass pastries. It was too much. Stunned and speechless, I could only hug her and pray that I wouldn’t break into hysterics until she left.

“I truly wish for us to meet again on down the road. Take care, and stay amazing!”

You too, little floor dwelling flower child, you too.

(Disclaimer: I’ve just come to the realization that my admiration for these people could easily be interpreted as sort of creepy. I’d just like to take this opportunity to tell you that I am not a lesbian, and the things I’m saying are things I would happily say in person. )

That’s all for day, folks, but tune in next time for more. Now that I’ve shown you the good, next time I’ll also be including some of the ugly…