6/27/07 - Allison Crowe

Hello to all my wonderful and beautiful friends!

Hot and hungover greetings from the blue couch. After reading all of your hilarious emails, I decided that I have been silent for too long. Dani and I are having a fun summer--Kate's birthday party was a hit, but it made me miss everyone who was absent! Charlottesville has been summer bliss--except for recently--the AC is leaking water, so we had to turn it off, and a technician still hasn't been able to get out here yet! Which makes this hangover even more fun.

My babysitting family is out of town, and they won't need me as much in July, so I have given in and agreed to help Darlene (the secretary at Athletics Media Relations) with this massive archive project. There are seemingly endless amounts of large cardboard boxes full of photographs, and I spend my mornings filing each individual picture away in the archive room. It's about as thrilling as it sounds. Additionally, in true Allison Crowe style, I have managed to turn work into my own personal fucking brothel. I realized this while I was knee deep in old pictures of Scott Stadium, hungover and reflecting on the disaster that was last night. I was trying to avoid reaching a mild panic state when Pete (if you don't remember: the formerly cute guy who worked in the press box--we hooked up and I only sucked his dick because he was a miserable kisser) walked into the office. He graduated and got a job working for the Virginia Athletics Foundation which means that I have to see him all the time now. As we chatted, I realized that football season will be atrocious, because there will be people who I have hooked up with/made out with in practically every press box corner, especially after last night.

The evening began innocuously--Dani and I wanted to escape the heat so we went to see Knocked Up (very funny), and then went to Bilt and met up with Matt White. It seemed as if it was going to be just another $2 pitcher night, but both Dani and I ended up drinking a lot more than we had planned, and we moved to Coupe's for liquor. I ran into this guy Whitey who is the basketball and soccer beat writer for the Daily Progress. He is also kind of the laughingstock of the MR/sports TV crew because he is a shitty writer and shady as hell--he goes out all the time, has the California surfer duuuuude attitude and look, and quasi hits on all the interns. Hilariously, Chuck Wade (if you don't remember/I haven't told you: the local sports anchor for NBC 29 who told me he had a huge crush on me, we made out for literally two hours, then he was an ass to me) hates Whitey. So Whitey started buying me shots and we took three jaeger bombs in the span of about five minutes. Shockingly, this is where I started blacking out. From what I DO remember, we walked to the White Spot pausing every now and then to make out, discovered it was closed, made out some more, got stopped by the cops. I am telling you, I could probably barely talk. But of course, I had to get indignant that they were treating me like a drunk ass/hooker (and all for blowing a 1.12 and was making out on a street corner--GOD what pricks). Total disaster. I have no earthly idea why we didn't get cited--it's actually a small miracle. I do think that the cops made me call a cab and watched me get in it sans Whitey. I only know this because yellow cab is in my dialed calls record--I don't remember the trip back to 44U at all.

Needless to say, this morning was rough. I puked then made my very merry way to JPJ. Still slightly shaken from my little visit from Pete and still knee deep in photos of Scott Stadium, Darlene called me to her desk to tell me that WHITEY WAS ON THE PHONE FOR ME. HE ACTUALLY HAD THE NERVE TO CALL THE MAINLINE TO GET IN TOUCH WITH ME (since I didn't give him my number last night, apparently). THIS IS NOT NOT NOT EVEN CLOSE TO BEING APPROPRIATE. I almost puked again, this time all over David A. Harrison III Field glossies. He bitched about the cops breaking up out our little party (I found this to be the most hilarious part of the conversation--he was like, "I can't believe they wouldn't cut us a break"--since you know, we were only stumbling around like retards, making out lasciviously on the goddamned street corner) and wanted to go to dinner tonight, but "understood if I was too sketched out." I told him that sorry, I most definitely was too sketched out, and that "last night was not normal behavior for me." If only he knew.

This is why I have decided that I will NOT NOT NOT touch another boy until Adam Bozeman returns. I am saving myself for him--he can't have some wanton hussy who will just be adding another poor victim to her harem. To wrap this diatribe up, I miss you all so much--including you Dani, as you are not home from work yet. Keep all the emails coming--they are all such gems and always make my day! For those in the country, come to Cville and visit, and for you all abroad, hurry up and come back to America! Wishing you all a fabulous summer and anticipating the day when we are all together again. Many kisses!

Love,
Allison