Risa and I had a party for our little collegiate babies and now I want to die on so many levels. One level being the purely physical result of overindulging in almond champagne (thanks Jaimie, I know you're reading this, you little blonde stalking machine) and cigarettes. Probably mixed together in some fucked-up gumbo towards the end of the evening. My house looks like a barf tornado. My brain feels like a barf sponge. My body feels like a big white barf log. barf.
One highlight: Two of my students dressed like robots. That means I did something right.
I'm going to get a double cheeseburger now.