Date: Wed, 5 Oct 2016 13:55:02 +0200
From: alongweekend@gmail.com
Subject: Reed em and weep - Ch 5; 10 March 2008

Mon 10 March 2008

Song of the Day: Tokyo Police Club – Tessellate. Get it while it's hot,
guys – it won't be '08 forever...

Unlike MM, who appears to be aceing this stuff, I'm even more behind in
maths than usual following a workless weekend, and now in the shit at home
to boot. Friday's house party turned into a massive dogshow about halfway
through and I made the mistake of letting some big rugby players mix me
drinks all night. I was fine until I had to get up for a piss and by then I
realized I was in trouble, but of course when you finally figure out that
you're slurring it's already too late.

I'll admit I didn't know one person could puke so much and actually still
live. I say that because – and I'm not joking – I managed to lose
almost four kilograms since Friday night, according to the scale at the
gym. I threw up all over the fucking place. Nothing where it shouldn't be –
at least, not on the carpets or floors so nobody had to clean up after me;
not sure those flowerbeds are going to be productive for too much longer,
though – but I prayed to the porcelain gods at home for pretty much
nineteen hours between 11pm Friday and 6pm Saturday. Mom's anger – and
dad's unofficial hilarity; not helping an already tenuous period of
domestic jockeying – at me daring to arrive home in "that state" had
changed to concern when I still couldn't even keep half a glass of water
down by lunchtime, and I'm pretty sure she only didn't kill me because she
thought God would do me in first. Hell, I thought I was dying; in between
the sweats and stomach cramps all I could think about was hanging on and
not kicking the bucket until I shag something (MM, where are you?). Note I
did say something, and not necessarily someone – this is indicative of
my current level of desperation. I blame American teen sex-comedy films
about baked goods for this anguish; and for once I identify, and
sympathise, with Australian and Welsh farmers.

Nevertheless, destroying my reputation and my imminent near-death aside, I
appear to have been quite the Belle of the Ball – at least, the male
equivalent; the (shaven) Balls of the Ball, perhaps? – and my antics and
escapades will live on in my new nickname, Flyweight Charley. I suspect
this reference is related to how little of me is left following the amount
of mass I lost via the Mystical Art of Being Violently Ill into the Koi
Pond. For once, the pre-class talk was all about me and Trevor had to suck
it up and just listen. I'm sure in my own way I was Sticking it to the
Man. Alas, not Sticking it into MM. I have really got to find out this
guy's name.

Oh shit – I didn't do the Cell Bio assignment and it's due in half an
hour.

-F.C  <------ note    /proud