I Majored in Bitchood

I interviewed for one internship today downtown (seriously people, don't you want me?!) and decided to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge since it was nearby and since I've never done it before. My face was sweating like crazy...if my face could pee, that's how it would feel like (I'm continuing with the burning face analogy so let me play with it).











After strolling 6016 feet over traffic and alongside the river, I was tired and hungry. I made my way to the Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory for some delicious butter pecan ice cream. I'm semi-lactose intolerant so I was taking my chances with this. Usually I like to enjoy my ice cream and lick it all around, but this one was melting so fast, dripping on my purse and all over my hand, that I had to bite into it and finish it within a couple minutes. It was some damn good ice cream!


I sat on one of the benches on the pier and looked out at the bridge and city. The sun was shining and the cool breeze blew through my hair. I had one of those moments where I thought to myself, "This is nice...I wish I had someone to share this moment with." So I started talking with the 17 year old girl next to me who worked for the taxi boat that would dock every hour...I talked to her for two hours. It was as if I was playing guidance counselor to a confused teen. I guess if public relations doesn't work out, I can always work at a school.

After I met my friend at Grimaldi's Pizza and we ordered a pie to go. We went next door to the restaurant where she used to bartend to pick up her last paycheck. When we stepped in, this loud 250 pound man told the bartender to get us whatever we wanted. I thought she knew the guy, but no one knew who he was. Then he put his giant hands (which had an ugly diamond-encrusted gold ring for about every finger) around our shoulders and started talking gibberish. I told him his hands were sweaty and he took them off. Later the guy from Grimaldi's dropped off the pizza for us and the sweaty giant insisted on paying for our pizza even though I tried paying him back (I didn't want to indebted to a sweaty giant). Since he didn't want to take my money, I told him to have a slice of pizza. When I was about to get up to leave, he raised his voice at us and told us that he's from Staten Island, he was emotional, we should be patient with him, his mom fell on her head...again, all gibberish. Awkward silence followed and my friend and I looked at each other. Damn, this guy is crazy. Okay, I'll have a slice of pizza with you. Then the guy got up and walked away from us and stopped to stare at the floor. He continued to walk further down to sit at at a table by himself. At that point, my friend and I were trying to decide if we should leave but the giant came back and started talking to us. My friend was more patient with him so she talked to him while I silently ate my pizza. When he talked to me and I didn't answer nicely, he got mean with me.

Sweaty Giant: What college did you go to?
Me: UCLA.
Sweaty Giant: What did you major in?
Me: Communications.
Sweaty Giant: Did you major in bitchood?
Me: (thinking, What the...did he just say what I thought he said?! Why the hell am I still talking to him?) No, I minored in it!

That's right, folks. You heard it here first: According to Sweaty Giant, I majored in bitchood. And I'm coining that phrase. I thought the guy had a psychological disorder but my friend said that he was drunk (at 7pm). We left soon after he established my college major.