We're All Brown on the Inside

Last weekend, I went and partied at Pitzer for the first time since graduating. I'm glad I waited so long, it made the moment all the more special. During my senior year, I grew tired of the hippie dancing on the lawn, but with a fresh outlook and a new set of friends, it was pretty darn fun to shake it sillily like old times. Afterwards, I went to Alec's suite to celebrate Alex's birthday. I had a good time, but I'm not sure about Alex. He hit it off with someone, but she must have beat him silly, judging by the copious bruises on his neck.

I wound up back at Pitzer again Friday night for the Bob Marley Festival. Last year, I submitted a t-shirt design for the event featuring Bob Marley with breasts, captioned Boob Marley. Apparently, the entry wasn't taken seriously. 'tever. Anyway, I'm not into reggae (reggae is way gae), but I had fun downing crappy beer and, surprise, hippie dancing on the lawn. We sure know how to do it at Pitzer, y'all.

When boredom set in, a bunch of us made the trek to the All Brown Get Down party. This is an event I have avoided in the past, put off by the racial exclusivity. (This party specifically calling for what the Women's Center's White Party was incorrectly accused of.) I've reached a new insight that inspired me to go this year, however: We're all brown on the inside... of our butt holes. Unless you have some kind of funky diarrhea going on and it's green or something. At the party, there were just as many white folk as browns getting down, including the quite literal Kat and Heather, who took a tumble off a wall and into a bush.

I'm not as capable of a dancer as I once was. Since becoming a professional, I am just a bit too wary and weary. At one point, Andrew heckled me, "Come on! You're dancing like a high school teacher!" The simple explanation for that is that I am a high school teacher -- and hippie dancing at my old college haunts is something that'll have to be approached in moderation.

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