My friend is scheduled to vacate the premises by the end of this weekend and Paul and I should be moving in the following weekend (we hope). I think we are going to need to enlist some help because there is heavy furniture to be moved and I am extremely useless when it comes to heavy furniture. In the past, my role in the moving process has been limited to opening doors and carrying pillows and such. I have puny biceps, what can I say?

So anyway, now that the stress of finding an apartment is gone, we have other things to stress about like making sure the carpets in our current apartment are cat-litter free. And this is where you and your vacuum cleaner recommendations come in. We had wanted to get a Dyson but then we remembered we can't afford one (and besides do we really need such a powerful device to clean a studio apartment?). But we do need a relatively kickass vacuum because the fat, fuzzy thing sheds like a mofo and according to Paul, I'm not much better. Every once in awhile Paul will do a thorough scraping of the carpet with his fingers and a giant hairball the size of the cat will be plucked from the ground. (Taz usually jumps into the trash can in an attempt to eat said giant hairball). I think Paul wonders how it is the cat and I even have any hair left considering how much of it is left on the ground, stuck to our clothes, stuck to chairs, stuck to the shower wall...

I haven't written about Paul's graduation weekend yet, have I? That's right, I didn't even walk and the boy wanted a whole darn weekend dedicated to celebrating his graduation! Ah well, he deserved it =) Part of the celebration involved a sorority house party and drunken, belligerent and immature fraternity boys (hm...that's a bit redundant isn't it).

Very Drunk Frat Boy #1: *pointing to a Drunk Frat Boy #2 lying in the grass* Hey that guy is drunk, let's puke on him!

Frat Bro of Drunk #2: Why are you pointing, I'll kick your ass!

Very Drunk Frat Boy #1: *still pointing* I wanna puke on him!

This went on for quite some time with Frat Boy #1's "bros" holding him back to keep him from puking on the Drunk Frat Boy lying in the grass and starting (another) fight (the first fight of the night was apparently broken up before we arrived). One of the girls who lived in the house was obviously relishing the drama and the fact that she was allowed to put herself in the center of it since, as she kept repeating, it was her house. Instead of telling all the boys who were trying to pick fights how completely retarded they were, she validated their belligerence by trying to talk them out of fighting. Now, do you reason with a puppy that has pooped on the carpet or do you slap it across the nose and tell it "NO! BAD DOG!"

Ah, that's right, THAT'S why I took one look at the Asian Greek system and ran screaming in the other direction.

But I still haven't gotten to the best part yet! Paul's fraternity house. The backyard was filled with the pungent odor of dog feces left to pile up indiscriminately all over the lawn. And the inside? It reaked of the smell of urine. No, not just in the bathroom. Everywhere. I did not dare enter the kitchen. Nor did I use the toilet there even once despite being on the premises for several hours. I was also very uncomfortable with the fact that the bottom of my shoes were touching the carpet.

Seriously guys, how do you LIVE like that? No wonder Paul has defacto moved in with me. I think the landlord is going to have to tear the whole place down and rebuild from scratch when those guys finally move out of there.

Anyway, that was my Friday night. Spent amidst a sea of drunken college kids and fraternity alumni who still wanted to act like college kids. And since I spent Friday morning puking (no I am not pregnant, it was probably food poisoning or something) I was sober for the entire affair. Very sober. Extremely. Incredibly. Impossibly. Sober.

Oh yeah, I'm taking a poll. How many of you ladies out there would appreciate a bunch of girls calling your boyfriend "Daddy" while YOU ARE STANDING RIGHT THERE AND TOTALLY NOT INVISIBLE AT ALL. Am I the only one who's gut reaction is to punch these sluts right in the kisser? And no I don't give a flying *expletive deleted* that he was their "pledge dad" whatever that might be.

*takes a deep breath*

Okay, I'm calm.

So Saturday was the day of the big graduation ceremony. The first undergraduate graduation ceremony I have ever attended since I decided that even my own would be too boring to sit through. And he thinks he loves me more. I sat through the WHOLE graduation, and even got there an hour early to save seats for his parents, if that isn't love I don't know what is.

Of course, the graduation keynote speaker was a big flaming hippy who ended up giving a speech that should have been called a "why-everyone-here-should-buy-a-hybrid-and-give-me-your-email-address-so-I-can-spam-you-about-how-Bush's-environmental-policy-sucks-and-you-should-work-to-fight-global-warming" speech. Because a graduation speech it was not. Oh she tried to tie it in. Something about how she didn't know when she graduated that she would become a huge, global-warming, fighting hippy, but now look! And would we all please go to www.somehippywebsiteaboutglobalwarming.com?

I stayed sane through the alleged graduation speech by making snide comments to Paul's friend Alvin about how global warming was a crock of you-know-what. Luckily Paul's parents were sitting in the two seats in front of us and weren't paying attention to my ranting.

On Sunday evening we went to Paul's friend Talbot's graduation party, which also happened to be his cousin's graduation party and the 50th birthday party of some relative. Of course, not realizing that this graduation party was actually a family party I wore a slightly-too-revealing outfit and had to wear my jacket the entire night so that all of Talbot's yuppie Republican family members in kahkis and pink polo shirts (and smoking cigars, can you get more Republican than that?) wouldn't think I was some slutty hippy that crawled in off the streets. Happily, I was not the only one caught off-guard as someone else showed up in a shirt that said "Wet Dreams" and he didn't get to change out of it until after meeting Talbot's grandmother. Nice.