I'm sitting on my couch having a rocks glass of cheap Australian Cabernet. My roommate, Seth, is sitting next to me studiously pouring over his Parkland Chemistry book. It's warm for February in this town and the college partying of spring is approaching like a squall line. My old war wounds are starting to ache: the torn quadricep from being body slammed Randy Savage style by Frolf National Champion, Justin "Huggie Bear" Heffernen, the permanent lump on my skull from... wait... I can't quite remember how that happened.
Unofficial St. Patrick's Day is this Friday, March 3rd. It's now the only day I consider recreational drinking in the morning acceptable, down from everyday previously (just kidding). The Friday after that is home to the Rockford Bar Crawl, which is likely one of the largest (at least most populous, the Phi Sig or Phi Mu bar crawls are probably "larger") bar crawls shitty CU campus bars see all year. I have a habit of getting rancidly drunk on the RBC and doing something embarrassing as f**K! This is a habit I hope to break in 9 days. The Friday after that (17th of March if you're keeping track) is my little sister's birthday as well as "Official" St. Patrick's Day, which is just one more opportunity to blame my Irish heritage for the trouble I get into by drinking too much.
All in all I'm frightened of the month of March and the weeks to come. Beware the Ides of March, et tu Brute!
