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Because everyone loves a farce

Sunday, May 23   9:43 PM

My Saturday Night Fever and Me

Woke up this morning feeling lightheaded, the cumulative aftereffect of alcohol and generic cough syrup.

The Cops and Robbers party last night in Alan M. and company's room wasn't as fun as I'd expected, probably because people had no central place to congregate and spent most of the time migrating in herds from room to room.

(Or, in one odd case, having a private gathering in the room's only bathroom. And believe me: I of all people should know antisocial when I see it.)

Let that be a lesson to you: all good parties have either a central location or gobs of people.

It could also have been that I was sick, of course. But the general consensus seems to be that the party was enjoyable, impressively set up and conceived, but, somehow, less than historic.

For whatever vague reason.

Sidenote: I went as D.B. Cooper, legendary skyjacker. My costume was barely recognizable, but even after saying what I was outright, I met with blank stares.

Since only Sockless Pete and Jagger—to their tremendous credit—knew what I was talking about, I should probably start picking less intentionally esoteric costumes.

I lay in my middle-bunk bed for a few hours after I left the party, wired from non-drowsy cough syrup. I heard muffled conversation in the next room as people came and went. I looked into Jubb's crazy drunken eyes as he gave me some of his trademark late night kudos from about a foot away. As the night wore on, I watched the wooden board above my head begin to look vaguely like the U.S.S. Enterprise.

Then I slept. And I'm prettymuch better now. I'll probably sleep tonight, though, just to be on the safe side.

Today was productive, as college Sundays must be. I watched Spiderman with Jubb, Alan M., Jinx, and Jagger, righteously deriding the "you mess with one of us, you mess with all of us" scene when the time came. Good movie, though.

The real highlight was the several hours I spent at the library slogging through a postmodern German short story featuring, among other things, a talking mule.

Also, I took the Personality Test at SparkNotes.com and discovered to my surprise that I am no longer an Artist (Dominant Introverted Abstract Feeler), the personality type I've consistently scored as for the past four years.

I'm now a Mastermind (Submissive Introverted Abstract Thinker), and a remarkably cold-hearted one at that. This is where I mention the Forer effect and dismiss this entertaining Myers-Briggs ripoff.

Still, it's interesting. That I've become more of a thinker, I'll accept; I've made a conscious effort to be more objective and less sentimental. But I've always thought I had a rather strong, albeit reserved/misanthropic, personality.

I know some people don't get that, but I consider many of those same people idiots anyways, so that's never been much of a problem. It's seeing it on a supposedly objective test, in black and white with a .jpg image, that gets to me. It's something to consider, now.

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