Down With The Sickness

I hope you all thought right then when you read the title that I was going to talk about going to a Disturbed concert or some random bullshit like that. If you were thinking that, thank Jebus that you're wrong. This is merely an explanation of my absence for the last 3 or 4 days. (I think)

Roughly a week ago, I came down with the sickness. (still not a disturbed reference) I didn't feel very sick at all for the last few days, just sick enough to want lots of sleep. It started out as 3 days of sore throatiness and so I was afraid I might've been getting strep. Once the first phase was done I started getting all coldish which was lame, but not so awful. Then the fun began.

Last Thursday I had to stay up all night finishing up my portfolio for class. (I'll have pictures of my stuff up soon, I just have to get batteries for my camera) I'm sure that didn't help with my illness and so I went back home around two pm. I then slept until ten am. I felt extremely wonky after all of that. I sat around the house all day Friday feeling wonky and not doing much of anything. I was going to go to a play my friend Corbin was in, The Book of Liz, that night, but instead fell asleep again.

The next day, Saturday, ended up being more of the same. Slept in late, but this time I was awake for the play. I walked outside and it was snowing. I was suddenly extremely happy. I got on the bus and my friend Claire was there, we chatted about making books and other important aspects of life. The play turned out to be really good, especially for being free. I got home and thought about doing productive things. I did not do anything productive.

I watched DiG! for the 10th time this year. (probably an exaggeration) If you didn't know already, I really like The Dandy Warhols, The Brian Jonestown Massace, and the rest of the bands that exist in the "DiG! Scene." Does that make me a 'scenester'?

Saturday was also the day I found out what I'm doing for my 21st birthday. My sister has offered to fly me down to California, get me hella sauced and fed down in San Francisco (emphasis on the 'hella') and then fly me back to Washington. Sometimes I wonder if my sister is into that whole organized crime scene, but not seriously. I also wonder if my Dad is going to try and match me in drinks when I celebrate with my parents. I feel like he's going to be all defensive of his drinking capabilities (he's 60) and I don't think I want to see him too drunk. Also, I'll have to hear him complain about being hungover for like a week after.

And now back from that tangent. I went to sleep Saturday night and woke up Sunday morning. I sat around all day Sunday, too. It started snowing really hard so I snuggled up with my cat Mooshu and watched the Discovery Channel. I got to see Bear Grylls drink his own piss and get stung in the face by a bee out in the Mexican desert. Talk about awesome television. Around 6 I decided to go to the party my classmates had put together, mind you I was still sick, and so trudged through the snow and ice to my friend Curt's house. It was a huge sausage fest until around 10 at which point the ratio still wasn't awesome. I got really drunk. (surprise, surprise!)At around 2 in the morning I walked home. It couldn't have been more than 10 degrees Fahrenheit outside. The thought that I might die crossed my mind a few times. I made it home by 3 and went to sleep.

I woke up this morning with a horrendous hangover and no access to cheap greasy food seeing as The Reef burned up. I went to Le Voyeur instead for some expensive greasy food and read the Volcano for the first time ever. Now I'm at the computer center writing in my blog. I don't know what I'm doing in the future.