And the Prescription Was Not "More Cowbell."

Because I finally have the energy and time to update! We begin with two weekends ago and the party:

The party was good. I wouldn't call it great, but still pretty good. There was this one hour where I was unhappy in the true sense of the word, and wanted to die, but the party really hit the good parts extremely well. Kareem, for example, made sure to come bright and early this time, to maximize the dancing and schtuff. Also, the music was done pretty damn well--"Like a Virgin," "Bonnie & Clyde," "1 Thing," "Enjoy the Silence," "Train in Vain," "Crazy." I danced to the last two with Maria and Kareem, respectively, and these shall be some of my fondest memories of the party. The PA bloc was representin', huh?

I can't believe how much water I drank at the party. I went to the bathroom several times. Part of it was that I didn't wanna look dumb and wanted to hold SOMEthing in my hands. I dunno. Didn't make much small talk. Didn't care to meet the Quirowitz's friends, though I know they're quite nice. It's just odd meeting people when they're a bit busted, especially if you're not busted right with them.

Things started going downhill starting Saturday, leading to several, painful days of fever, coughing, runny and stuffy nose... It was all painful and not worth remembering. The whole thing was ridiculous. I even made Boogie-Down Nicole sick. Ick. I feel bad about that, I do.

So last Friday, having reached a stable condition, I was hanging out with Steve, who was also attempting to interview this band that gave me grief. They gave him grief too. A lot a lot a lot. More than the singer gave me grief. But that requires a full rant that must be explained at another time.

In other news, I love comics!!! Especially when they're weird and out there. That's all.