This is me blogging...

So we had a moving party last night, fuelled by truly epic amounts of illegal moonshine spodie.
-Note to non-Cascadians: Spodie is alcoholic punch/bolla-
Very swimming it went to...up to the last batch that I, the mix-master of DOOM, whipped up.
I had run out of mixers, and attempted to make it drinkable by throwing more fruit at it.
Long story short, I quickly got hammered, flirted with everyone in sight (special apologies to Þórunn Sóley and Eden), then got maudlin and whiny (sorry Sigrun!) then passed out on the couch, as my narcolepsy-inducing intoxicant had already filled my bed with two passed out partyers.
Oddly enough, I awoke with less hangover hell than I deserved, and hence made a humanitarian run to the shop for coke and nibbly bits to drive the dread drunken away from my roomies and Ingþór, who eventually crawled out of my bed.
And since then, I'm doing nothing.
I intend for my ass to put down roots in this couch.
It is the Sabbath, and godsdamnit, I'm taking my day of rest!

Now, this sofa-spudding is not entirely due to the party-hardy of me. I've had quite the time since my last post (not counting the drunken poeticness previous to this). I've moved into the new digs (which took way longer and way more effort than I had expected) and its proving to be blissful. I am a very happy third wheel in a very nice apartment.

Oh, and the Cutest Couple in the World, whom I set up, are now engaged! I have the mad Yenta-fu!
They're all joyously happy and cute. Its nauseating, really.

Speaking of nausea, I wound up in the hospital last Saturday. I was stressed out and exhausted after the move, and somehow convinced myself that I was having a heart attack.
So I haul myself to the ER, fully convinced I'm going to die. They take my pulse and blood-pressure, run an EKG, listen to my heart and lungs and run some blood tests.
The result being that, yes, I am gonna die...but not for a very very long time.
Turns out thanks to my incessant working out and latest health-kick, I'm in better shape than I've been in roughly a decade. Cholesterol's down, blood pressure is great, pulse is steady and strong, hell even my liver is working perfectly! My liver! The second most self-abused organ I have! Who knew?
Well, not me apparently. I mistook being healthy for a heart-attack.
My official diagnosis is hystericus hypochondriaus idioticus.

Stupid Latin.

Other than that, not much else is new. Went to see 300 which was the coolest thing ever. That movie is so good I wanted to take it home with me, light some scented candles, heat up the message oil, throw some Barry White in the stereo and make sweet sweet love to it. The only thing that marred my otherwise blissful evening of beautiful half-naked people commiting acts of choreographed violence was the utterly incompetent corporate security running around with their matching goatees, shaved heads, black suits and useless little ear-pieces who so thoroughly bungles the phone-check (thanks to the mad Geek-Fu of Gisli from Nexus we got to see the movie the night before the world premier) that everything started an hour late and no one got to use the bathrooms. Stupid stupid security. Its not about being big and strong and intimidating, its about being loud and bossy and controlling the crowd. Seriously, we Increased Income Facilitators could teach these guys a thing or two.


But I ramble gentle blogadytes, I know. So enjoy your RHOTW and know that I'm back to the daily ranting. Ya missed me, didn't ya?