And then I realized I wasn’t joking when I said I’m old…

So as we’ve already covered numerous times, as in here and here, I have The Anxious. Therefore, one can imagine that when I landed a job involving reviewing medical records which highlight all the sometimes horrifically life changing things that can happen to you when you are:

1. dumb,
2. in a motor vehicle, or
3. mortal

I was a tad bit concerned that it may accentuate my angsty qualities.

Turns out, it really hasn’t. Some days I review exceedingly unpleasant things (whether gross or depressing), but I don’t seem to be any worse for the wear. All I do is cluck at their unfortunate positions.

Like the other day I happened to be working on a file that involved a story that goes like this:

Once upon a time there was a house.
And at that house there was a party.
And at that party at that house there was a keg.
And at that keg at that party at that house there was a minor.

And then bad stuff happened.

The end.

And I’m sitting at my desk, tksing and thinking why, oh why, silly kids did you do something so irresponsible which had such dire consequences? I’m making the trumpet noise the adults make in Charlie Brown.

And then later that night I was looking at this and thinking oh you silly college kids with your crazy drunk antics, as I shook my head and my old-lady beaded spectacle chain swayed back and forth in step (I don’t really have a spectacle chain).

And THEN I suddenly had a flash and remembered that I have an entire section of a photo album from college that documents the sports we created. I wasn’t drunk in any of said photos because I’m a disgustingly boring rarely-drinker, but I would argue, probably to the detriment of my rep more than anything, that I have done some fabulously stupid things withOUT the aid of intoxicating substances.

We had an activity called Mud Sliding which is perfectly self-explanatory and involved going to find hills on campus after a good rain. I will note that the jeans “prewash” in the bathtub after said sport turned many gallons of water into chocolate milk and so I think I only participated once due to the ensuing hassle.

But the other sport we invented was pure genius if you ask me. In college they hand out free condoms and free lube samples like water and we were thinking, “What – besides the obvious – will we do with all of this lube?”

And it just so happens that when you live in the dorms the bathroom floors are all tile and slope gently to the center where there is a drain.

And it just so happens that lube luging was born:

Step 1: Squirt all the samples you have on the bathroom floor.*
Step 2: Take off shoes and socks.
Step 3: Roll up pants.
Step 4: See how long you can avoid getting a concussion.

*Only use water-based lube, because if you go to the sex shop and purchase a whole bottle of whatever lube is cheapest and it happens to be silicone-based, you will require soap to wash it off and down the drain, and you probably won’t get it all and one of your suite-mates might slip and get mad at you. I’m just saying. Hypothetically.

And I’m not saying that lube luging is anything like getting wasted and very, very broken at a house party, but I AM saying that I used to do fun, weird, slightly stupid, nonsensical things. Moi. What happened to that? Is this me getting old or is it inevitable? Does crazy fun exist after school or is it doomed to wither and die in the post grad phase?

Oh my god.  Am I going to start telling these stories:

Me: You will not BELIEVE what HAPPENED. It was INSANE!
Them: What happened?
Me: I was alphabetizing my spices, and for a second, I put CILANTRO before CHIVE…
Them: Uh-huh…
::silence::
Them: And then what?
Me: No. That’s it. Isn’t it CRAZY!?

I’m going to be sick.