I haven't posted much lately since I occasionally participate in this thing called LIFE which tends to get in the way. And last weekend I caught my death (or, a cold) which means that I have spent about 108,374 hours in bed since then. Also last weekend, I got a boyfriend.

(I'm not going to make a joke here about how many more hours I have spent in bed because of that development, because that would just make the whole thing seem one-dimensional and it's not; it's new and nice and sweet.)

(Give it a couple months, though.)

It would seem counterintuitive, but having these two at the same time, a cold and a boyfriend, has been totally fucking awesome. Rub my back because you like me and have to do nice things for me in order for me to like you back, all while I doze in a wine- and NyQuil- induced haze? Then let me sleep in all day and ask me what I want for breakfast (knowing better than to call it lunch even though it's 1pm)? Text me periodically throughout my workday to see if I'm feeling better? Ok!

Apparently some other people saw this coming, this whole boyfriend thing, but I did not, not really. Or at least, not this soon. I did plenty to keep this from happening in the passive-aggressive way I am so good at. And for good measure, in some aggressive-aggressive ways, too, which I also excel at. Consider this line, from an earlier post:

"The [drinking] contest was actually up in the air for a bit because the only other competitor is someone whom I haven't yet thrown up in front of, or tried to hit (with a closed fist, anyways) and I would kind of like to keep it that way."

Um. Well. That competitor I referred to was him. And in the time since I wrote that (less than a month ago) I've managed to do BOTH of those things. In the same night, even. Not my finest moment, certainly. (Though I did tell the story to a small group of close friends I call THE INTERNET, because hey, you've got to be able to laugh at yourself, right?)

And still, this guy came back for more. Which set off alarm bells shouting INSANE! INSANE! And made me think, hey, I can work with this.

So all joking aside (much of which will be forthcoming, I am sure) don't believe for a second that I'm not happy with what happened.

I am.

As could easily have been predicted, Thursday's movie night did not go off quite as planned. No, instead it became Thursday bar night, or as it is usually known, Thursday night.

Only Jamie and I, champs that we are, arrived early enough to get in some drinks before the movie. Of course, this was also our downfall, as it meant that we drank enough to lose track of time. Oops.

Once I looked at the clock and realized that I would have to down my drink, run to the theater, and still run the risk of missing previews (no! not the previews!) I made an executive decision to just keep drinking.

Surprised, aren't you?

I got another chance to see Sweeney Todd later in the weekend, though, and thank goodness for that. There's a scene where Alan Rickman (swoon) is creepily singing about his young ward, with whom I happen to share a name. Meaning, I can totally close my eyes, and its almost like he's CREEPILY SINGING TO ME. (I'm downloading that shit so fast you wouldn't fucking believe it, and I'm not even ashamed to admit it. Because Alan Rickman is a total badass and if he cooed your name in his deep, sexy man-voice you would be all aquiver, too. Don't lie.)

Lastly, a note on the sickness that I mentioned at the beginning of this post, before all the rambling came in. Being a generally unhealthy person who only drinks water that comes from the ice in my glass of whiskey or from beer AND who regularly interacts with herds of young children, I probably get sick more than is normal.

Generally I just get a bit of a cold which lasts a day, two at most, and is little more than an annoyance.

But this shit? This deep-in-my-bones, hiding-out-in-my-lungs sickness (I'm not even a smoker - where's the justice?!) is putting a dent in my social life, and I WILL NOT HAVE THAT SHIT. Last night two friends made numerous phone calls to prompt me to out, but I didn't find this out until after midnight, when I awoke completely rested and ready to face the day because I had FALLEN ASLEEP.

WHILE READING.

IN BED.

AT 7 PM.

I am not ok with this.

So sickness: tonight is your last night. I am going straight home after work tonight. And staying in. (!!!) I am going to drink orange juice (with vodka). I am going to take vitamins (with vodka). I am going to dive headfirst into a bubble bath with a temperature similar to lava (well, nothing new about this) and sleep for double-digit hours (or this).

I am going to get better, and I am going to do it tonight. I haven't gone out since Sunday night, and then it was for a single beer and I was home by midnight, and according to the rules of partying THAT DOES NOT EVEN COUNT.

So I would like to feel better, by this time tomorrow, because I would really like to go out soon, please.

All of that business aside, I promise to not get all soft and sweet on you guys now that I regularly get to cuddle and shit with someone. I certainly won't post cutesy crap like this:

Or this:

(Panda cub Zhen Zhen at the San Deigo Zoo.)

Nope. Won't happen.