September 14, 2004

A mea culpa of sorts.

Like all good college students, my first few weeks of classes were filled with getting drunk every night, having one night stands, gorging myself on free food, experimenting with drugs, letting my hygiene slip, skipping my classes, seducing my TAs, and getting sick.

Oh, how I jest.

I have been sick, actually. Something about the abundance of people from all over the world in small enclosures (not to mention the passive orgies until the wee hours of the night) leads to the proliferation of germs--who knew? My roommate and one of my suitemates were already sick, and so this weekend was my turn.

I got sick Friday night, which was the suck, of course. I stayed in bed, watched tv, blew florescent colors out of my nose, coughed like a bad Oliver Twist extra, and sounded like a muppet version of Bob Dylan. It was not a pretty sight.

I watched "Angels in America," which was repeated on HBO Friday. While I enjoyed the minidrama, I think I would have enjoyed it more cuddling up with someone. Of course, I tend to think that everything is more enjoyable cuddling with some hot young thing, but in this case it would have been nice to have seen on a date. There's just something about uplifting gay-centric serious movies that cause giddy snugglebunnies. Or something butch like that.

Watching the movie while sick probably wasn't a good idea, since for the rest of the weekend I fretted about how swollen my glands were. They were huge! And even though I'm pretty sure there's nothing to worry about, it still added a bit of paranoia which, coupled with my sore throat, stuffed nose, et all, resulted in a weekend unworthy of a Monday recap blog post.

And that's why I didn't post yesterday.
Here lies a most ridiculous raw youth, indulging himself in the literary graces that he once vowed to eschew. Now he just rocks out.