A Mythical Creature with Rabies

On Monday, I mentioned that I hoped to kill the foul taste of ant death in my mouth with some alcohol from Margarita Mondays. Unfortunately, it worked too well, as I ultimately ended up with the taste of vomit in my mouth instead while teaching the following morning. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Last year, after some experimentation, I came to discover that the pitfalls of Hungover Tuesdays sometimes outweighed the joys of Margarita Mondays and that moderation was the key to happy, functional teaching. Since I go for the social element even more than the beverages, having one or two margaritas is plenty. In these first few weeks since returning to work, I've been a responsible Margarita Monday attendee. This past Monday, however, I bought my two drinks upfront, then had a drink purchased for me by the restaurant, took a tequila shot I couldn't finish in honor of RJ's last Margarita Monday (thanks for the assist, Shea), and then was talked into "splitting" a margarita two more times toward the end of the night. This was fun, but excessive. I couldn't help it though, the event was blissful; I thoroughly enjoy the company of everyone who attends' and just smiled the whole way through.

Recently, we've taken to hitting the basketball court after our margarita session. Inevitably, it's a largely pitiful, unskilled game. Hustle is limited to stumbling, and a lot of us seem to think we can hit three pointers that really amount to air balls. And yet, it's a hoot. Last week, a member of our party climbed up the hoop and sat on the backboard, where upon he exposed his penis. Slam junk! This time around, everyone kept their pants on, but after some sweaty play, some shirts came off. The trouble didn't arise until it was time to come home and Shea couldn't find his nice work shirt. I can't imagine someone stole it, but it definitely went missing permanently, meaning he had to walk back shirtless. I wasn't part of his traveling pack, but apparently on his journey, he adopted the name Shirtless Man and climbed trees, ran head first into a stop sign, and caught a mouse with his hands. The last part I'm pretty sure came immediately after I received a call from Michael Michael wherein he asked where I was, then screamed something about seeing a "mythical creature with rabies" and hung up. As Shea later recounted, he thought he was trying to catch a toad, and was of course taken by surprise when it wound up being a mouse. If none of that makes sense, it's because it shouldn't. Shea arrived home without his shirt, covered in dirt and blood. I think I stayed up long enough to laugh and lightly interrogate him for explanations he couldn't articulate, then passed out.

It was not a pretty Tuesday morning. I acted as chipper as I could muster so as not to raise suspicion, but I really thought I might vomit in class. That night's homework was for me: moderation.