So I have never, not once, had a sip of alcohol on St. Patrick's Day. Whatev, I say.
But I will not be deterred in my yearning for the good old days of not knowing my limits. Let us go down memory lane back to some night in 2002. Do you remember this fateful night, Bridget and Jennie? It was the night of the blacklight party, the graceful and abundant emptying of someone's stomach contents onto our kitchen floor, and these precious Christopher Fecteau words which resulted in a minor concussion for yours truly:
"I'm sorry, I headbutted you to avoid that tree. That tree is a MOTHERFUCKER. It will be cut down in the morning." Wow, I miss college drinking.
But fear not! I am going to a conference on Wednesday in San Francisco, and all that we'll be doing there (besides "reading papers" and "presenting") is discovering SFO bars! Wow, do I need this. Between teaching a full-blown comp class, writing a thesis, and reading ancient Greek novels, my brain is about to hemorrhage from all the unnecessary weight and stress and lack of recent fun. Wish me luck!
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3 comments:
I believe that Fecteau quote lived blue tacked to our living room wall for a better part of year. Along with the naked chefs. God love college Rutledge, I miss you.
i'm sorry, which night are you referring to here? i don't seem to remember what you're talking about. surely if this night is as memorable as you say, i would have heard about it multiple times before now?
Oh where, oh where has my Lauren L--- gone/ Oh where, oh where can she be?
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