From one alcoholic to another...for Hans

Hans has deemed me a poetry geek lately, and reading over the blog, I see he is right. So. This post shall have nothing to do with poetry. It's little 500 week!!!!!!!!!!!! For those of you unfortunate enough not to live in Indiana or attend Indiana University, let me give you a brief rundown...this is the week where our fuckin' university gets drunk off its ass. We go to classes in that weird state between drunk and hungover, and everyone is the kid that smells like whiskey. The only reason we shower is to get pretty for the party the next night. Drinking 'til you throw up/black out/take your clothes off/pee on the wall is considered polite. Anything less than that and you're stuck up. Also, there's a bike race...but if you want to know more about that part, may I suggest the movie Breaking Away? Should be paired with Hoosiers to maximize your viewing pleasure. So last Friday, I went to a party with Jill given by a Penn Station guy, David, who really is the most beautiful boy I've ever seen. Like, he should be an Abercrombie boy. And, he was so nice. Unbelievable, really. But anyways, this weird man (like, 26 or 27) was following me around all night...he told me his name was Michaelangelo and he wanted me to move to Carmel with him. But anyways...I got gouged in self-defense a couple weeks ago, so I was wearing a band-aid on my hand, and he asked about it, so I told him the story, and he ripped the band-aid off and kissed my hand. On the sore. Ewewewewewew. And way creepy. Like, he gets the most creepy points ever. So then we left, herded out the door by another Penn Station boy, Brenden, who lived a couple streets over. And we played beer pong there. And then Dean and Michael came and I passed out in their car...and I managed to sleep in my bed, and not on the floor, which is where I usually sleep in the event of passing out. I also got a little blitzy on Saturday, but not so much, cuz I only had like a bottle and a half of wine...which isn't really enough for me. And last night...also lots of drinking, and Mike was the funniest boy ever..."I, um, woke up with one of Pete's energy drinks in my pocket...and I totally don't remember buying that..." Turns out, he doesn't remember much of anything past 11.30, and he definitely drank for another 2 hours or so after that. Have a lovely pic of him passed out with his hand in the toaster. It rocks so hard. Funny drunk Mike, who took like...15 shots, I think. I played it safe with 7 or 8. Only a little fuzzy when I went to bed. And almost missed class this morning, because I like to sleep. That is all...homework to do.