All right everyone. Tonight is a Thursday night and this week has been jam-packed with work, homework and late nights.
Some of you have been reading my blogs, some of you scroll past them, but none of you have to write them for a grade in majority of your communications classes.
So, here we are. It’s Thursday and the last thing I have looming over my head is a blog that’s due at 12 p.m. tomorrow afternoon. Ma or Carrie, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry for the procrastination!
Most of you are reading this like “dude, just write the damn blog.” Well, it’s not that easy.
I have a problem.
Some of my friends walked in about an hour ago with a box of (insert favorite beer here) and now I’m stuck in a stone cold dilemma.
Write my blog? Or call it a week?
Paranoia has me in front of my laptop typing away in a half circle with friends, so instead of skipping out on a blog, I’m going to tell you what life is like inside of this half circle:
My roommate Simi is pointing at me, dancing and bobbling his head back and forth. They are playing Bruno Mars’s new song “24k in the air” for the hundredth time.
I’m not going to lie. This song is dope.
Buba and Jesse join Simi in singing and—as if they’ve been practicing for weeks—shout out “hashtag blessed!” along with Bruno Mars.
That was also pretty dope.
Abruptly the song cuts off and a slow 80’s melody comes on (if you know Polynesian’s, this is when it gets real).
Buba quickly shouts, “Aw man, ya’ll don’t know nothin’ about this!”
“Slow Jams” by Morning Star is playing and yes, Buba is feelin’ himself.
Someone pauses the music mid-song and who walks in the door? Jordan and JT. Empty handed? Of course not, they have bags of McDonald’s.
“How’s the blogging coming uce?” Jordan asks (“uce” meaning “bro” in Samoan).
“Good uce! You barely made the cut,” I reply.
Jordan balls his hands into a fist knowing that means he’ll be written about in this weeks blog.
Everyone takes a seat and now, the real hanging out happens. In a Polynesian circle of friends, hanging out isn’t just talking.
It means singing at the top of your lungs, making fun of each other in every way possible, and loud hyena-like laughter.
I look up and Simi is trying to convince JT that his fries cannot runaway. He responds by eating more fries.
Jordan asks Buba to toss him a can. He drops it. This shouldn’t be a big deal, but Jordan is CWU’s running back and of course, jokes are made.
The song that is now playing has the lyrics “Won’t see me no more,” so the boys are looking at Simi singing “Won’t Si-mi no more.”
Woaaaah. Don’t mean to leave you readers hanging on a cliff, but my boy Elisha Pa’aga just walked in which means I gotta go!
Wouldn’t spend a Thursday night writing/hanging out with any other group of boys.