The Queen of Crank(y)

We had a social function last night. The theme? Kings and Queens of Crunk. First of all, I don't even know what "crunk" means. Second of all, whatever it means, I'm sure I'm not it. Third of all, I didn't plan on actually going.

But I really needed the study break. What could be so bad about getting crunk?

Plenty. As soon as we walked in, we were accosted by drunk frat boys (oh goody) asking us where we'd been all evening. We told them we were fashionably late. And then, random frat guy #1 said "Or, you might just be wizards, because they can appear on the spot whenever they want... oh my gosh I really said that I'm such a nerd I watch Lord of the Rings...wow." And it just got worse from there. From random frat guy #2 wearing an alarm clock on a bike chain around his neck, to random frat guy #3 who told me that I needed to learn how to dance (his suggestion was to wave my arms like I was trying to fly - that would definitely get all the hot guys!) to random frat guy #4, the biggest creeper of all, who asked me if I wanted to come back to his place. Unless you are one certain boy (who will remain unnamed) the answer will always and unequivocally be no. Please remember this for the nex time you will inevitably want to ask me to sleep with you. Yes, I'm a cold hard bitch. Deal.

By the end of the night, I realized that I'm not a LOTR fan, a great dancer, someone who you take home to the frat house, nor am I, I've decided, crunk. At all. After spending my entire week studying for two tests, having daily panic attacks about what I'm going to do with my life, and realizing that the person I've been in love with for almost a year has no clue how I feel, I am decidedly a little more crank than crunk. I am the Queen of Crank.