Well, really there's not too much to shh about, but I was just too lazy to actually write anything substantial about the banquet.

Hope I didn't leave you hanging.

But before I rehash the night, I have to mention some other important stuff.

I put up some new pictures in my cubicle today. I started reading a new book last night. I started ramping up my training for the marathon in May. I destroyed my food science test. I found out I get paid for seven days off over Christmas (and at my wage, that's a lot of money!!). To sum it up, I finished the semester out feeling damn fine.

So the banquet. Friday. I really did just let it all out, and possibly lived up to every ridiculous party stereotype that could be ascribed to someone. I'm not proud of it, but hey, what happened happened.

Tequila shots.

Spiking drinks at a fancy dinner. From a flask.

Buying alcohol for minors.

Dancing & Dancing & Dancing.

Chanting.

Passing out.

Puking.

Waking up next to someone I didn't remember falling asleep next to.

Waking up and feeling damn good.

Special thanks to all those who were attentive to me (but you guys all know I was just fine and could have walked under my own power. If I wanted to, that is).

What makes it all so much more great is that it went down while I was wrapped up in a stellar suit, that no, I didn't ruin. I didn't even spill on it once, as a matter of fact.

But I'm only telling you half the story.

Shh.

And just to round things out I'm going to give you a quote from my roomie, Ben Walter, who helped me finish an entire 1.75 of Captain: There's nothing better than getting trashed in a fine suit. Except getting trashed in a fine tuxedo.

...and speaking of being drunk in formal wear, I have a few words for you: Chicago. New Year's Eve. Hyatt Hotel. $130 tickets.

Update: So if you were curious, I came across some evidence that I did spend much of the night in a horizontal position. Whoops!