Exams are well under way, and I´ve been beating them up like they owe me money. I´ll be shocked -- shocked! -- if I don´t get A´s on the two tests I took today, and if I can finish up my paper on Venezuela this afternoon I will be all but finished with my first semester of Argentine schooling. I must say, it´s a good feeling, not least of all because I know a celebratory rib eye and cuban (legal here) cigar await.
I really don´t have much to write about anymore, since my past few weeks have mostly been filled with penny-pinching and studying, but Gladys, the house mother, left this weekend, and everyone enjoyed our newly-gained autonomy. Until she returned.
While I don´t want to delve deeply into the situation, a definite United Front has formed among the exchange students and the host mother, with good reason (that really doesn´t merit being discussed here). I only mention it all because of the audacity of the end of the weekend hystrionics, and because of the hilarity of our United Front and our recent slogan: ¨there is a new sheriff in town.¨
With the house to ourselves we were able to do whatever we wanted to without being blamed, guilt-tripped, or mean-mugged, and for the first time in a while everyone was smiling. I don´t want to imply that no one is ever happy, just that everyone is never happy when everyone is sharing the house´s common areas. We cooked up a B.A. (and that doesn´t stand for Buenos Aires) American style lunch of Daddy´s BBQ Chicken, potato salad, pasta salad, and beer. The chicken was juicy and delicious, and we chopped up the remnants for the huge ass bowl of pasta we ate at dinner. It was like the Taco Bell commercial: we didn´t know what to do, except yell ¨I´m FULLLLLL!¨
Our house mother returned Monday, and, apparently, flew off the handle, claiming that the house was dirty (I don´t know how she was able to distinguish the dirtiness of the house from the usual layer of filth) and, from what I hear, berated our (rent-paying) female roomate, because she was the ´woman of the house´. This is all antecdotal evidence, because, thankfully, I wasn´t there to witness the shit-storm, but it is clearly out of line, and I have a feeling that in about 10 to 15 days when people start moving out, Front Desk will receive a few reports.
That being said, I really love living with the majority of my roomates, and, if anything, we have bonded over the experience. The house, for the most part, hasn´t put a damper on my semester, but instead has encouraged me to get out and do something. anything. other than sit around and watch Prison Break all day.
On Thursday night I went out with Mike Segundo and his girlfriend, who claimed she had never stayed out to see the sun come up. We went out just in time to catch the end of happy hour -- 2 a.m. -- and after multiple bars, including one with, for god knows what reason, a ton of hot dog buns everywhere, and another where a slurring scottish guy asked us where to buy coke (where the hell did he get the ´I-know-where-to-buy-coke-vibe´?), we finished up with a plate of medialunas, a few orange juices, and a long bus ride home. Good times, good times.
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