‘Roids and me

Every freaking finals week I pull all-nighters to finish everything that I had ten weeks to do but decided to wait til the last ten hours to actually do. After every freaking finals week I suffer a serious hit from my aids (I don’t really have acquired immunodeficieny syndrome, I just really enjoy talking about it and HIV).

[Sidenote: I didn't even have to look up what AIDS stands for, I guess I did learn something more other than how to make a grill out of gum wrappers for the Mink I dissected in Anatomy sophomore year of college. Nelly would be so proud to know what kind of work and education he was influencing. chyeah.]

Smile for me daddy, let me see ya grill

[Even more impressive sidenote: I know that AIDS is SIDA in Spanish. Takins AIDS international--go me.]

So following suit, I became deathly ill after my most recent exam week which  partook from June 7 until June 12 (also my birthday).  A month later, I am still sick. Today I was placed on steriods. And although I know they’re not the anabolic kind I’m going to pretend as if they were and suffer from their side effects.

gettin swol

I’m really looking forward to it. I made a list of why being on steroids is awesome:

- I’m not shaving my legs. I’m going to call the three inches of blond hair on my stems a five o’clock shadow and blame it on the excess Testerone in system, even though it’s actually just a product of my extreme laziness for the past three  to four weeks. Thanks to steroids I can feel good about my boycott from the razor and acceptance that there’s no point in shaving because no one is getting close enough to notice.

me, soon to be

-I’m going to start talking in a deeper voice. Just because I enjoy being creepy.

-I’m going to start talking about my balls that are shrinking. Again, because I enjoy being creepy.

How can I go from this to anything else?

-I’m going to get violent. I am going to kick, bitch-slap, and/or  mushroom stamp any mother f’er who pisses me off and blame it on ‘roid rage. Instead of referring to myself as moody, I’ll be known to me as ‘roid ragey. I’ve never been in a fight in my life– I tried one time at bar at Ohio University but just ended up getting kicked out of the bar for drinking in the men’s restroom from a Nati Light can that I conviently packed in my purse– things might be changing soon with the roids.

-I’m going to foam at the mouth and blame it on ‘roid rage. Again, just becaue I enjoy acting like a creep.

-I’m going to get shit faced and not feel bad about abusing my liver because the roids are the real bully. If my liver were a real person, alcohol would like be the big brother that constantly pounds on it but doesn’t mean any harm and just builds up to mental breakdown after years of abuse, steroids would be like the ruthless, crack addict who knifes it in the middle of a dark alley after it just won the lottery. Therefore, I can feel no guilt to the pain alcohol is potentially cause me in the future when the ‘roids are way worse.

-I’m going to get shit faced, fight a bum and then make amends with them by knitting them a blanket from my leg hair.