May 10, 1999.

Hey kids. Welcome back. I didn't mean to take a 4 day vacation - my plan was to whine prettily and write my entries on Q's computer, but I left my disk behind and didn't feel much like writing anyhow. See, I've been sick. It's the first time this year, and it's rather annoying. I've been sneezing & blowing my nose non-stop since Wednesday...and I have the inevitable cotton-head to go along with it.

The cold became a major player in Friday's events, actually. In case you didn't get the flyer, Friday was the Boy's 25th birthday, as well as being the condo housewarming. There were a lot of things to be done, so I thought that it would be a good idea to take some DayQuil with lunch.

Bad idea.

Hence from 2 p.m. onward, my judgment was legally impaired. I actually thought it would be a good idea to drink a couple beers to increase the high I'd been feeling for hours. Second bad idea. Fortunately, I'm too much of a drunkard not to know when the vomit point has been reached. In my defense, I only drank 2 1/4 beers before stopping. This of course wasn't enough to stop the regurgitation, but it helped. At least I didn't black out or get rushed to the hospital for a festive stomach pumping. And I felt slightly better knowing that I had somewhat exonerated myself by cleaning both toilets 6 hours before soiling them.

Perversely, it was a very informative experience. For one thing, I've sworn off the Quil. For another, I now know what it's like to receive demerits from the Saints (a total of three: one each for the vomiting, one for drinking on top of DayQuil). I was given a refresher course in reverse peristalsis, which is enough to make me very wary about future intoxicating experiences. And I know that a drunken Ian will not let sickness deter him from petting my passive, ill self. Gah.

But despite the fact that I was preoccupied with my own intestine, I did notice that it was a good party. Dav & Leo really dug the little book inside Pat the Bunny, especially the part that reads "Bunny is eating his good supper." Pixie Stix wore a huge bicep tattoo to scare her mother. Sheila was an instant celeb with her housewarming gift of a Hello Kitty shower curtain. Exodus dropped a beer cap over the balcony. Little Spider brought a cactus. Gomer left too early. Q made too much food & passed out around 1:30. Scout stayed all night. Guy took over the stereo, then left. I made everyone wear a star sticker. Scott stuck his star on my ass. Ian decide that he wanted to hug me all the time, when I was too sick & passive to resist.

A very good night.

The rest of the weekend was spent in clean-up & recovery. I don't think I've bounced back yet - but that's prolly just the cold. It was remarkably comfortable to stagger out to the living room and read quietly beside Q & Pixie Stix...despite the fact that they get up insanely ass-early, and pretend that it's normal to awake at 8 on the weekends. The Boy seems to have caught the disease; he woke me at 5:40 a.m. on Friday, so that I could wish him a happy birthday. Gah.

The Boy & I also spent a fair-sized chunk of time buying groceries. Taking advantage of him being in the money, you know. Strangely enough, this was one of the highlights of the weekend for me. I really enjoy grocery shopping, especially if I'll be eating the food. It's fun to buy groceries, fun to take them home to an appreciative crowd, and especially fun to get a treat for shopping with the Boy.

This started as my idea earlier in the year: if I made him shop with me, he got a treat. Usually that took the form of a pizza bun. But I wanted to learn more about the universe. I wanted...

The Weekly World News. Yeah, baby.

Such a good publication. I learned so many things - rich people are better than me, werewolves are probably extinct, Clinton sexually assaulted a femme alien, and the world's fattest man (4000 lbs!) feels great. All this, and a full page article about the amazing sex-change chicken.

My cup runneth over.