W.O.W.

Remember the 90s? Well, the end of the 90s at least? 

I started college in the August of 1999, and the University of Iowa welcomed me, and Marthy, and H-Bomb, and Frankie to the campus with what they called "Weeks of Welcome." The idea was to have lots of fun events to get freshmen to leave the safety of their dorm rooms, meet one another, and have lots of good old fashioned wholesome fun. 

A group of us even took the CamBus to Carver Hawkeye Arena to see the Black Eyed-Peas, before they had Fergie. Yeah, it was a while ago. I know. 

The signs for Weeks of Welcome were all over the place, and they featured a huge W, an O, and another W. Get it? I think it was probably H-Bomb who started it, but we decided to replicate this sign, and illustrate the fun of Weeks of Welcome, by holding up three fingers on both hands on either side of o-shaped mouths. 

You can't make the second W if you are taking a selfie.

It was like a gang symbol for nerds. 

The reason why we are taking this little gaunt down memory lane is this: I am hereby declaring March 3 through March 7th as the Week of Wallowing. Hence, the lack of blogging. It is hard to reach a computer from the wallow.

Obviously, Week of Wallowing is less fun than the week of welcome, but it felt good to at least give it a name and put a limit on it. My thinking is that if you designate a week for wallowing, well, then you can get all your wallowing out of the way and move on. 

Why was I wallowing you ask? Well, let me tell you. 

Wallow 1: Sunday, March 2 was Mardi Gnaux, which was not a cause of wallowing. It was really fun. Except that it was extremely cold, like -1 was the high, which made the parade something of a Shakletonian effort. But, it was a long, long, long day. I got up at 6:30am to start cleaning and preparing, and our last little beaver didn't depart until 9:30pm. So, Monday, March 3rd, I was pretty tuckered out and out of my head. 

Wallow 2: Tuesday March 4 all the sh!t that is going down over at Some Girls Prefer Carnations Land really hit me. I felt sad. I felt helpless. I felt confused. I felt angry. But, I am not great at feeling my feelings, so it was kind of inside my head. 

Wallow 3: I got sick. Those of you who know me know that when I get sick, I like to play this game called, "oh, I'm not sick. I just have allergies." I hate to admit to being sick, and I don't want to feel like I am getting everyone else sick, and I don't want to stay home from work, so I just pretend that I am fine and not contagious. It only sort of works, so I was congested and phglemy and my brain wasn't working all that well. Not the best Rice. 

Grade, sniffle, repeat.

Wallow 4: Did I mention it is still cold as balls around here?

The way that you celebrate a Week of Wallowing is to sleep a lot, though, you will wake up often coughing and adding to the pile of soiled tissues, take crying breaks in the middle of grading papers, get behind in said grading of papers, and spend evenings comatose on the sofa with a glass of wine. 

Thankfully, that's over. 

Week of Wallowing came to a close when I decided that I didn't care if I was sick, I was going to go to Burlesque Bingo on Saturday, dammit. And, I went to burlesque bingo. The Tiger, Dick-Stew, and Masinga came with me. And, every time someone bought a round of shots for the bar ($10 and the proceeds went to something good, I think), I took one! And, I won a round of bingo.

I won a pair of tickets to the Des Moines Playhouse and a free drink. What did I get for my free drink? Well, I asked the cute (gay) bartender at the Saddle what was his most expensive drink. He looked at me, acknowledged my inherent silliness, and then shrugged and said, "Patron, I guess." 

"One Patron, with lots of ice and lime," I said and left him a big tip. 

Then, I went to the Library with the Tiger and Dick-Stew, where, understandably, I was pretty sassy. Then I insisted I get dropped off at Goldie's house, where she was entertaining some ladies. There I drank a bunch of wine, ate a bunch of chips, did some light burlesque dancing of my own, and horsed around with Sam-I-Am, Goldie's small one. If you are going to disgrace yourself, at least do it in the safety of a friend's home. 

If you are going to tie one on, I decided, you might as well do it when you are already sick, sad, and cold, because the after effects are just so much less noticeable. 

On Sunday, I switched gears and went from Week of Wallowing to Week of Mid-term-Holy-Hell (WoMTHH)  to Week of Break of Spring (WOBOS). Which is where I am now. I am still cold, and still sad, but I think I got that sickness and need to wallow out of my system. 

Robins going bat-shit in the park.