In D.C., you’re one of two things (or oftentimes both). You’re a chain smoker or addicted coffee drinker. I’m the latter and literally can’t function without a certain amount of caffeine in my system. The other day, I had a debilitating migraine that interfered with my plans, but at least I really know my limits now.
Even with the weather heating up, I can’t substitute iced lattes for entire cups of coffee. The sweet drinks simply aren’t enough to energize me (or prevent throbbing headaches). I might have to start getting up earlier just to consume warm coffee before the humidity becomes suffocating.
A few months ago, I thought I’d triumph over my coffee dependency, but I simply don’t have the desire nor ability to tackle this at the moment. The last thing I need is to experience another vomit-inducing migraine, so I’ll do anything to avoid these occurrences.
The other night, I went out with my friend Nikki and some other fun people from work. Nikki and I took the last train home, much to the concern of one of our male friends. We had no qualms running home in the dark, though. Not only are we used to it, but we’re familiar with standing up to creepers.
As Nikki pointed out, “Laura and I have beat up men before, we can handle walking to the train.”
With that, the boys wanted to know more about our altercations. To tell you the truth, my own story is dull compared to that of Nikki, but it’s memorable for me and my good friend Crystal nonetheless.
During my freshman year of high school, an acquaintance became a frenemy for two weeks (teenagers are ridiculous). I can’t even remember what went wrong, but she told classmates that I was bad news. She started the anti-Laura campaign to connect with James, her new crush. Though they often joked together, the only thing they had in common was their disapproval of me. As we all know, shared hatred should not be the glue for a relationship.
James proceeded to spread rumors (some true, some false) about me and my family. He and his loser friends taunted me on the bus home, kicked my seat, and banned me from sitting at the back of the bus. I want to make it clear that I don’t view myself as the victim here. I didn’t care that they disliked me, but I was not okay with James gossiping about my parents. I was especially concerned when the guys said they were planning to toilet paper my house. I pleaded with them to leave my mom and dad out of the situation, but James insisted that my family deserved suffering.
One foggy day during recess, I cornered the bastard. On our walk to the restroom, my best buddy Crystal and I ran into James, who was without his posse for a change. With his cretin friends nowhere to be seen, I yanked his shirt collar and shoved him into a pole, instructing him to never torment me again. He nodded defenselessly, but seemed surprised that I’d cracked.
“What the Hell is wrong with you?” Crystal asked as soon as James scrambled away.
“He had it coming, and you know I’m right about that,” I said.
These days, Crystal and I laugh about the incident. At times, she’ll jokingly say, “Laura, you were a bully back then! You pushed people into poles on a whim.”
But that’s the extent of my physical disputes with boys. I give James credit for not fighting back. I hate to say it, but a real man always resists (unless of course a female is trying to murder him). The dude who grabbed Nikki and threw her into the bleachers seven years ago will never acquire male status.
Some cool celebrities are coming to D.C. this month, so I look forward to chatting with them! I’m stoked to see Johnny Weir and attend the upcoming gay pride events.
On another happy note, I can’t stop eating cheeseburgers. My new favorite burger joints are Five Guys and Shake Shack, which just opened up in D.C. If I get fat this summer as a result of downing too many cheeseburgers, so be it. I still have my huge pants from Italy!