Purgatorio

It's a difficult thing, to be waiting in the library on the Minneapolis campus of St. Thomas, killing time before the low-level functionary returns from lunch. I came down here today to withdraw from the licensure program, which I waited this long to do because I was hoping to hear back from UNLV first... but that's not in the cards. UNLV is still waiting on the asshats over at ETS to send them my PRAXIS scores. Let me tell you this: if I have to write any more acronyms in this post, I may start eating this handsome, flat-screen monitor out of spite.

Spite, do you hear?

Never mind that now. This weekend, it's a mad dash South of the Border to Council Bluffs, Iowa for Muffin's bachelor party. I lined up the bottles of liquor that constitute mine and The Madame's contribution to the debauch on the kitchen counter last night, and was seized by a desire to watch the drug collection bit from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas one more time. Let's just say that when you're locked in a serious [liquor] collection, there's a tendency to take it as far as possible. Besides, there will be five of us. All those bottles -- along with those supplied by Marathon Man and Nip-Nip -- will be enough to keep us all deeply submerged in a haze of distilled Strangeness for forty-eight hours. Lost weekend indeed.

And now, it has turned over to 1:00, and I'm headed upstairs to sign a form that severs my relationship with this university. When you're pitching headlong into the abyss of the unknown, there's a tendency to hesitate. Hold fast, sailor. Here we go again.