Club 218

DISCLAIMER: I'm going to get real soft with this one....

This goes out to my roomies, unofficial by school standards, official in our minds. This is for our second floor love that was restricted to the corner, starting with number 217 ending with number 218.

This is for all the naps that Nef stole busting in the room and speaking full of enthusiasm to lifeless bodies huddled in sheets.

This shit is to all the reckless weekends that we planned. Some went as planned, some didn't but they were all something to talk about Sunday over breakfast.

This is to the dictionary of wreckless terms

and hoodrat hours (affordable housing rodent)

and getting crazy

and making it hot

and being a creep

or a wrecknolopolus

and all the trips we planned and never took

and all the trashy addictive reality TV shows we watched together.

This is to black jokes on Edmund, and all the times his nipples were touched,

and the all the times he tried to retaliate.

This is to the Half Nigerian who found her "chill time" in club 218

This is to the Jello Shot Bandit, who will remain nameless

and all the bottles of malibu we've gone thru

and all the times i have reccomended people "fight it out" on the rug

(and to all the times they did)

and all the things we've toasted our drunken shots to and all the pink plastic cups and straws we've disposed of, and all the times we were ballin' out of control in the snack department.

This is to the night before, trying on a million outfits, fighting eachother to the showers and hassling Quene the bartender/DJ

This is to the mornings after, with the curling iron still plugged in, heels in the middle of the rug, questions about the bruises on my legs, and complaining about hurting backs.

This is to Club 218 and all the hairspray hair pins and hairstyles that came out of Manuela's, even when I was too drunk to style my own hair.

This is to Ciara, Britney, Beyonce, Janet Jackson, Justin Timberlake, and anyone else on the getting ready playlist that we reinacted in club 218.

This is to YouTube for supplying all of Nef's music and for showing Simone how to be unforgivable.

This is to all the stupid hoes on our floor that called the R.D. everytime we sneezed. You did not succeed

This is to MaComb Hall

and Hookah in front, behind, and on the side of the building.

And last but not least

This is to finding the best roommates a girl could ask for and a year full of memories like no other. They say you don't go to college to find your husband, you go there to find your bridesmaids.

So if for all else you suck, Plattsburgh, thank you for finding my friends.

The end of a saga, the beginning of a new chapter