Scottish bros

Last night we went to a flat party in the apartment above Dave’s. The building has mostly students in their first year—except for the exchange students like Dave—so it was very reminiscent of my early days at Hampshire. In fact, some of them are even younger than the average first year at Hampshire. The party was very loud and rowdy, I was reminded of a party with the Frisbee team, except there was a lot more hair gel. In think they were basically English bros. I don’t understand how English girls put up with all that hair gel.

One the guys with an especially excessive amount of hair gel was talking about his 18th birthday that had just passed. Apparently, his friends took him out to a strip club and he got so drunk he climbed up on the stage. The stripper poured hot wax down his pants and, so these group of guys said, every time his friends yelled out she lit his ass on fire with sambuca. These Scotsman, they rage hard.

Well, not long into the evening, I realized that I was really in no shape to be going out. At the time, I tried to ignore it, but now it is obvious to me that I was terribly feverish, as I was having hot and cold spells, and feeling generally lethargic. Luckily, I didn’t drink too hard.

When we got back, I went straight to bed. I woke up countless times during the night soaked in sweat, but I soon as I got out of my sleeping bag to use the bathroom, I got the shivers. At one point, I awoke from a dream about being alienated in the United Kingdom, and when I got to the bathroom, there was a huge truck tire in the shower. That was really disconcerting.

Today I had a fried mars bar.