Good morning Vietnam! Just kidding, I wish I was in Vietnam right now. Actually, I'm a little intimidated by the "eastern world," and that whole Vietnam-war-ordeal back in the day doesn't exactly make me think of a luscious paradise. Unless your idea of paradise involves land mines and guerrilla warfare. And I guess technically Vietnam wasn't a war, since Congress never declared it. What the hell is with these tangents...
I am exhausted. Not like didn't-sleep-much-last-night exhausted. More like, thinking-of-everything-I-need-to-do-this-weekend exhausted. Seriously, it's nonstop from here on out until Sunday, and then I get to wake up Monday morning and hit the ground running with school and work again. It's overwhelming, yet I can't seem to force myself to get any further ahead with my schoolwork. I wonder how many iced coffees I'll go through today. I'm praying I can whip up a toga for our social tonight in like, 30 minutes, so I can have time to nap.
Yeah, I have to make a toga. I've been in a sorority for the past 4 years and I can honestly say I have no clue how to do that. What, you mean Animal House wasn't a real depiction of fraternity and sorority life? Did I just blow your mind? Don't get me wrong, we sorority women love us some theme parties. We would take any excuse to go find a retro eighties-prom style dress at Goodwill, or sexify a pirate outfit for a night of drinking and sexual innuendos about "plundering your booty." The guys, on the other hand, are less creative with their themes. I swear, they must sit around during meetings and just be like, "well, I wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid, so let's theme this one Astronauts and Space Hoes." I'm seriously not kidding about that one. So, my point was, I've never been to a toga-themed party before, so tonight is a pretty big deal.
Then, immediately following a night of debauchery, I will be engaging in some bronzing at the beach, followed by a bachelor’s WNBA party catered by Captain D's (I seriously will not stop quoting that video,) a charity walk for the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation (yes, I care about humanity), a super-secret retreat event (except I'm practically Sherlock Holmes so I guessed it, but I won't tell you,) and then promptly dying from exhaustion in my bed at approximately 10am on Sunday. I swear to Jesus and Tim Tebow, God bless the soul who wakes me up from that coma-- I mean, nap. It just may be the apocalypse for them. I guess being busy beats being bored. Sometimes I think I'm the laziest ass on this planet, what with always wishing I could lay in bed and watch Food Network and eat spinach dip. Then I remembered that sloths exist, and they are so lazy that moss actually grows on them. I haven't reached that level of botanic idleness yet.