What A Hussy

After dealing with a nasty cough for a few days, I finally had time free to go to the doctor. Surprise! I have pneumonia.

Not only did I receive two breathing treatments and a steroid shot, but I got a long list of medication that cost more than I had to spend.

The nurse and doctor I received at the student health center were incredibly nice because they realized what lousy shape I was in and so I cried. I cry when people are nice to me and do extra things for me [like getting me Gatorade and changing the tv channel for me].  But my love for my doctor changed quickly. After he told me he was writing me an excuse for the next two days said, “I am also going to have to plead with you to not go out this weekend. I am aware it is a holiday but I have to let you know that extra socializing, drinking, and smoking will lead you to being placed in the hospital.” DUN DUN DUN.

So let’s recap: I am incredibly sick. I will not be able to take part in my favorite holiday. I will be forced to sit in bed and wait….I can’t even smoke?

Of course, I did try to smoke earlier today…it didn’t end well. It is going to be a long weekend.

I absolutely hate this term. I honestly feel like it was invented  just to confuse girls like me, girls who like to know exactly what to wear for an occasion. There are so many ways I could fuck this up because even my “safe” and “conservative” clothes are on the quirky side. Frustration.

E! commercial I keep hearing: “Every little girl dreams of marrying a rock star…”

WAY TO DREAM BIG.

I attend a university most well known for its football legacy. I am also from a state that loves football and a family that watches almost every game that airs on Saturday. These things could be said about almost everyone from the southeast United States, but here is the thing: I don’t care about football. It is not that I hate it, but to me it is a game and not a lifestyle.

The game today is in town and with another large team. The town is like a fair and has been for the past two days. I sold my ticket. I am a girl in college who would much rather have a new pair of shoes than sit outside for a few hours. My parents do not understand my choice and often tell me that I should enjoy my last football season. This is why I had to lie to me about attending the game.

I went out last night so I am nursing my pretty typical Saturday Morning hangover on top of my lingering cold. Camping out in my apartment was my plan but people decided to tailgate outside of my window and their noise was making my head hurt so bad I decided to walk to the gas station and get some beer. This is my walk of shame. Not only am I not dressed to the nines like the other women, but I realize I am wearing all black. I am by myself, no drunk posse to yell and shout with. The walk back is worse. A young lady walking unescorted throught the masses AND carrying a case of Bud Light?!? I felt their looks of judgement.

But now I am back in my safe apartment. Just laying in bed wearing my undies, watching Addams Family Values, and drinking my beer. And I a beyond happy with my decision. Plus, now I have a fabulous new outfit to wear tonight.

Despite the fact that it is officially Autumn, it is still 95 degrees. I want my cardigans and boots. Hell, I would just like to comfortably wear jeans.

Why is Jordan Catalano on Chelsea Lately wearing a blue leather jacket?

You’re supposed to wear flannel and only flannel.

But really, how has Jared Leto not aged?

I was aware that this was a new concept for you, but after a detailed discussion that was only short of signing a contract, it seemed like it could be a good arrangement.

Sure, I made a mistake when I let you spend the night and use my shower.

Sure you are younger than me.

Sure you spent your formidable teen years at a boarding school for academically gifted students, a place where you weren’t allowed to have a car much less practice courtship rituals.

But c’mon, you really should have enough sense to inform me that you were beginning to date someone. This would have saved me a lot of embarrassment of you telling  me after I request you to “Come to my apartment ASAP!”

Not to mention I have wasted precious time in which I could have been seeking a replacement. Manners, sir. Manners.