Shopping with Ian

Preface: I've been writing a lot recently, but it's been thrown into a private journal. Because, really, the world doesn't want to read about how my linens were in Vallejo while I was at Stanford, and how I got rid of my foam "mattress," or how my ex-girlfriend's boyfriend lives down the hall from me, and how none of my friends thought to mention this to me, followed by rambling talks of loyalty and honesty and Godfather references.

Anyway, Ian always bitches that he's not featured enough in the fabulous texty texts, so today he finally gets his wish.

"What'd you do last night?" Ian asks me.

It's Saturday afternoon, I'm sitting in my new Aeron chair, and Ian looks like shit.

"Finished coding the mergesort in mips assembly language."

"Yeah."

"I've never been so happy to see a sorted array in my life."

"So how'd that whole full moon on the quad thing go?" I ask Ian.

"Oh, it went pretty well."

Full moon on the quad is a Stanford tradition. The first full moon of the year, all freshman and seniors go to the main quad, and the freshman aren't "real" Stanford students until they kiss a senior.

Basically, it's just an excuse for senior guys to hit on the young freshman girls and try to get them to make out with them.

"You should've gone dude."

I didn't even go freshman year. Any minute now the Stanford tradition police are going to break down the door and kick me out for not being a "real" student.

"Yeah, but I'm a junior, and anyway, I wouldn't enjoy it. I don't think I could deal with it."

"Like the rejection? Yeah, that sucks when you ask a girl if you can kiss her and she's like 'umm, no.'"

"Or the acceptance. I couldn't really handle that either."

I apparently missed out on the sort of essential childhood experiences that would allow me to go to an event and kiss random girls in a mob environment and enjoy it.

"But you didn't bring some little freshman girl back with you last night. I'm a little disappointed in you."

"No, I didn't but, I did make out with two girls at the same time."

"Really."

"Yeah, and not just like the two of them were each like kissing me on a cheek or something, we're talking like the three of us together and the tongues were out and..."

"That's great."

"And then when we stopped, Franzo and Josh were just staring at me, like 'wow,' jaws ajar."

"Uh huh."

It's good to have friends that provide a contrast to you. Mergesort in assembly, kissing two girls at the same time, you don't get much more contrast than that.

"You want to go get some breakfast?" I ask, because, as we all know, 2 pm is the perfect time for breakfast, although a tad early for my tastes.

"Nah, I just ate, the Resident Fellow's had a breakfast this morning, but I have to make a Safeway run, so come with and we'll pick something up and then head over to Safeway."

Although I should know better than to risk my life by getting into Ian's car, the prospect of picking up In-N-Out burgers always seems to win out.

And now there's a Krispy Kreme donuts right across the street, so you can drive from the In-N-Out drive-through to the Krispy Kreme donut drive-through, and, oh my god. OH MY GOD.

So I'm happily sitting in the car with a mouthful of burger in mouth, and Ian says, "Dude, I need you to buy me some hemorrhoidal suppository medicine."

"Didn't I just loan you twenty bucks yesterday?"

"No, no, I mean, like you actually have to buy it for me at Safeway."

"Why?"

"I don't want to buy hemorrhoidal suppositories, it's embarrassing."

"Well, neither do I, and frankly, I don't need them."

"Dude, I buy you alcohol, you need to buy me hemorrhoidal suppositories."

Umm, not that I drink alcohol or anything, because, umm, yeah...

"This is ridiculous, I'm not doing this. I don't see what the big deal is."

"The big deal is the place is going to be crawling with Stanford chicks. Cute Stanford chicks! I don't want them to see me buying it!"

"Umm..."

"But you don't even go after cute Stanford chicks, you just go after these crazy bitches..."

"And lately I don't even do that."

"Exactly. So you don't care if people see you buying hemorrhoidal suppositories."

"Yes, you're right, I absolutely don't care."

So we're in Safeway, and I'm buying Ian some generic hemorrhoidal suppositories.

Which is pretty easy, you just put the hemorrhoidal suppositories into a little basket, along with some other items, because, while it's not a big deal to buy hemorrhoidal suppositories, it seems like such a waste to only buy them, and then take them to a checker. Ok, actually, just buying hemorrhoidal suppositories without anything else was a little too much for even me.

Of course, the line I get in takes 80 billion hours, but whatever.

"Did you notice how the checker made every effort not to look down at the hemorrhoidal suppositories as she checked them?" Ian asks as we're walking back to the car.

"I think that's part of their training."

We get into the car, and I start chomping on a donut.

"Dude, hold this."

I look down, it's a hemorrhoidal suppository wrapper. "Oh geez. Ian, not here... oh god..."

I continue to eat my donut, and try not to pay attention to my friend Ian with his hand up his ass.

"Wow, that's so much better."

Silence.

He starts the car and we start driving back to campus.

"I don't actually think I have hemorrhoids, because the pain is more at the outer part of my ass than where the hemorrhoids are."

More silence.

"I think it's just that I have a really hairy ass and it gets irritated easily."

Even more silence.

"But either way, this really helps."

Another pause.

"Jesus, dude, you're actually speechless. I can't ever remember that."

Another extended silence.

"It's so great. It's like having a wonderful fluffy cloud."

Silence.

"In your ass."

At which point I finally break out laughing.