Yesterday was the debauched evening known as Waugh Night, where everybody dresses up in 1920s attire for a champagne toast, a four course meal, and excessive cocktails in honor of Evelyn Waugh, who is famous for writing Brideshead Revisited and hating being a student in our college. (No hard feelings, Evelyn.)
Appropriately, I woke up this morning in various parts of a tuxedo and was unable to get out of bed until noon, so I built a fort out of blankets and watched High School Musical II to take my mind off of the fact that I felt like I'd been run over repeatedly by a truck. It worked!
And while I still plan to be Mr. Ryan Efron someday, this redefines fabulous slash terrible. I was like, what? I'm simultaneously turned on by and embarrassed for you. That is not supposed to happen. It did distract me from throwing up, though.