Only in Berkeley

This was a what-the-fuck moment, so much so that I didn't even abbreviate it. But I'm sure those of you who don't go to Berkeley will rationalize this with a "Fuckin' hippies" or fantasize about it with a "Oh, damn I wish I was there" if you are Moisa or Jake. 

Today, I was in the library studying for my midterm that I had in an hour. Me study? Yes, just this once and I promise I'll never do it again. But anyway. As I was coming out of North Reading Room to go buy a blue book for my exam, I received a text. It was from Krause, so I was pretty sure that it would read something like, "Yo, what up N-(he varies  the racially insensitive term he exchanges for my name)? You down to drink at my place and then play some Wii (or N64 or Rambo I, II, or III)?" But because we had already had that conversation earlier on in the day, I knew it couldn't be that. 

 

The text read: "There are two topless girls on memorial glade. Awesome!" Yes, he even bothered to press the one button enough times to get to use the exclamation point. I figured that Krause had seen me coming out of the library, which opens up onto memorial glade, and he was just yanking me. 

I looked out onto memorial glade, and saw Krause across the small field laying against the slope with the biggest smile on his face. I texted him back- I see you.

From across the way I saw him pick up his phone and begin to look around. I stood there on the edge of the steps of the library waiting to be acknowledged. When he saw me he began to wave me over, as if he had just found some sort of buried treasure and was laying on top off it so as not to let anyone else on to his find, except he needed to tell somebody. 

As I crossed the glade, there was the topless girl just sunning herself on the glade in front of about, oh I don't know, maybe, 100 people, who were all staring at her. 

Krause must not have believed that she was topless on first glance because he made sure she was, when he chose to sit down 10 feet from her. Yes, that is kind of creepy of him, but she was naked in public. 

Now, this girl, as you can imagine, was a dirty hipster-hippie chick trying to make some sort of statement. To me, her statement was "My parents didn't hold me enough as a child and now I need all the attention, all the time," or possibly protesting some sort of Free Palestine movement. To Krause, her statement probably would read along these lines– "Oh, Kevin. These tits are only out here for you and for you only. It's only you and me baby. Look at 'em. Love'em, they are all yours," or something like that. 

Oh and as for the second chick that Krause originally mentioned, I think he was counting both boobs as individuals. 

 

Of course this sighting cannot be the end of my story, after all it was Joe and Krause and a weird situation in public. So, naturally, we made things more awkward. We began debating the merits of the upcoming performances of the vagina monologues and what ours would say if we had them. 

Then, out of the ground pops Sarah Weinstein, my buddy Jeff's wife-to-be, and we incorporate her into our explicit rant. She ups the stakes by loudly saying things like "Hey, What do you think of those things? Over there, Huh, huh, huh?" It is important to note here that Sarah is 10 feet away from us, almost in a perfect triangle between Kevin's soul mate. So Sarah is more yelling to us. 

Krause, who has extremely small nipples (read: maybe the size of a penny, when they are cold, or even the size of Lincoln's head on a penny), begins to wonder aloud if taking off his shirt is a good idea. This only acts as an invitation to one up him, which I take. Come to think of it, I need a dick tan, I proclaim. Suddenly everyone begins to wonder if their private parts are tanned enough for public showing. 

 

Insert about five more minutes of dick, tits, and cunt (we're taking back the word) jokes, I have to go buy my blue book for my exam. 

 

As I was leaving, I find out that Krause had sent a mass text because Kevin Hale made a brief mile and a half detour on his way home from Berkeley Sports (on Bancroft, hooked to Tang) to see what Krause and just about everyone else on the glade had seen. 

What the fuck.