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At this point, I’m yelling. It’s ridiculous to argue with her about this—I know, I know. But seriously: What is she proud of? That I’m at a state school? That I’m failing? That I’m four cheese pizzas away from the freshman 15? I hang up with Mom and immediately feel miserable for the way I talked to her. Why do I do that? The woman loves me more than anyone, and art hedberg it just makes art hedberg me wanna throttle her. “Boo-ya-sha-ka, respeck.” It’s Chad. He puts out his fist, and I thump it without even looking up. “Why dis bangin’ honey be chillin’ by her lonesome?” “I hate my stupid life,” I mutter. “Huh.” He drops the Ali G accent. “Wanna order a pizza?” “God, yes.” * * * Chad and Kevin’s dorm room is covered in movie posters: The original Star Wars print, Jack Nicholson’s crazed mug from The Shining, a theater lobby promotional cut-out of Napoleon Dynamite.
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