Oh my. It's Monday. I made it.

/me breathes a sigh of relief.

This weekend took a lot out of me. I mean, it added a lot to me as well, but learning is always exhausting when it's the hard way.

It all started out on Friday night. My friends and I had been looking forward to this night all week. We were going to dance up a storm. We were going to have a great time. Everyone would be happy. Except, as we were getting ready, I got the feeling that everything was about to go terribly wrong. An hour later, we were dialing 911 for a friend who was vomiting blood and had just gone limp in our arms.

I don't know why, but they sent a fire truck. And an ambulance. And a police car. Maybe they thought it would calm us down or something. I don't know. We moved my friend into the archway until we couldn't carry her any farther. The paramedics took over, asking her her name. She said "Skankor," and puked all over them. I couldn't help laughing just a little bit, especially since that's the only word she said all night.

At the hospital, they gave us dirty looks. I could tell they were thinking "Stupid students, getting their friends drunk and making the public pay for it." Like it was our fault. Like we shoved the vodka down her throat. Like she wanted it to happen that way. I'm sure if she knew she would end up in the hospital, she wouldn't have worn a bright blue thong. And I'm sure if she knew that I would have to bring her into the hospital bathroom and force her to pee in a cup for a urine test (we won't go into detail about that), again, she would have reconsidered her choice of underwear.

So we stayed by her side until six, taking shifts, sitting out in the hallway holding her hand because they wouldn't give her a room. The nurses looked at our shoes and called us Spice Girls. The one day this month I choose not to wear Birkenstalks, this has to happen. Fucking shoes. Fucking hospitals.

So we left the hospital at 6am when our friend woke up. We were almost sad to go. By the end we had gotten to know Peaches, the male night desk attendant, and I had been asked out by the security guard who talked endlessly about economics.

We dropped her off and went home, only to discover that our friend's roommate had passed out and puked all over herself. Not just regular puke, but piles of chunky yak, almost like it had never been digested in the first place. I had to work at 8am. This was not what I needed. But we stayed up and watched both of them. And at 8 I went to work, like every weekend.

That was just Friday night. I won't go into detail about Saturday, but it involved one introverted geek (who I happen to have fallen for in a big big way), one best friend, one more huge crush on the introverted geek, and one crying fit in the bathroom of The Pita Pit.

But I made it. And now I'm here. And I'm glad, almost glad that I went throught all of this in one weekend, because now I know that someone up there owes me a relaxing rest of the month.