This is the third time I’ve been sick this semester, sick enough to the point of misery, not quite sick enough (yet) to justify going to a doctor. My immune system is incredibly, hopelessly lame. Within the past 24 hours I’ve taken Zyrtec, Aleve, the last drop of liquid Dayquil remaining after I spilled most of it in my purse, Sudafed, Benadryl, more Aleve, a multivitamin, Vitamins B, C, and E. I think that’s about it. Needless to say, I’m kind of zonky right now, so I’ll try to make this post short.

I guess it’s my body’s way of rebelling against me for all the rest I’ve deprived it - I went to about six graduation parties this weekend (geeze, people, can’t we come up with a staggering system for next year’s parties) and an old friend from high school came into town for a day. After the last grad party, the boy, his roomies and the old friend and I were planning on having a nice, calm evening to wind down and catch up on small talk. But then, somehow other people were invited, who invited even more others, who stayed late. During the course of said surprise party, I talked and laughed so much that I lost my voice, and now sound like a 68-year-old chain smoker. We eventually ended up in bed by three.

I realized, by the fifth graduation party or so, that I’ve gotten to know a lot of new people this year - a lot of really awesome people, who I wish I’d known earlier, or spent more time with. I guess staying out late and partying wasn’t the best course of action given my current state, but dammit, why did I have to get sick on graduation weekend? Despite being sick, this weekend has been both extremely fun and bittersweet.

A good proportion of these awesome new people are leaving, and chances are, I will very likely never see them again. I’ve been really bad with keeping in touch with people in the past, and I have a feeling (though I’ll try to work against this) that I’ll probably drop the ball again. We’ll exchange emails for a few months, and then we’ll get busy, something will come up, and then - poof - before I know it, they’ll be strangers.

The boy, as mentioned before, is going to Lebanon. I myself will be cavorting about England and Scotland for a month (thank goodness - I love dear Lawrence, but it seems as though everyone is leaving), but I’ll miss him. I’m currently persuading him to start his own blog, which I will post a link to if my mission is successful.

- ed. - Mission was a success! Here he is: Adonis in Phoenicia

At my university, there is this coupon booklet that they hand out to people whenever they buy books at the campus bookstore. It actually has some pretty good deals - cheap pizza, free salads, etc. One of the deals is a free coupon for the Chinese Combo Meal #3 at Dillons, our local grocery store. An entree, a medium soda, and your choice of egg rolls or crab rangoons (I always pick the crab rangoons). I still have yet to deduce what good giving away free food does for Dillons, where a lot of college students shop for groceries anyways, but it is a pretty snazzy deal for us. So the boy, his roommate and I collected about ten of these booklets and periodically visit Dillons whenever we don’t feel like cooking and crave that sweet, hot grease coursing through our veins.

The best time to go is when the large black man is working the Chinese Kitchen counter. Without saying a word, he heaps mountains of fried rice, General Tso’s chicken and crab rangoons until the thin styrofoam box barely closes. He dishes enough for three Value Combo Meal #3’s. Best Dillons worker ever. If only we knew what shift he works. Asking, however, would be impossible because of the demeanor of the other Chinese Kitchen counter worker.

The other man that works there is, from what we can gather, the polar opposite of the generous black man. The free-meal coupons bring a scowl to his face. Actually everything seems to bring a scowl to his face. Like his co-worker, he is reticent when dishing out food. Unlike his co-worker, he doles out meagre portions, saving the stalest of rice and oldest of chicken for the college students, like us. He insists on seeing your Dillons plus card before accepting the coupon and relinquishing the grease-soaked box. He is middle-aged and Asian, possibly Korean (judging by the last name on his name tag - Lee); he probably would rather be a doctor or a pharmacist. Something with a little more glory, more prestige. Instead, he is a serving guy at the 6th St. Dillons Chinese Kitchen.

He despises you, you filthy college-attending freeloader.

We went there yesterday, because the boy is headed off to Lebanon for the summer. He wants to try as much food here as possible, that he thinks he’ll miss there. Apparently Dillons Chinese Kitchen Combo Meal #3 is fine cuisine that cannot be had in sunny Lebanon, and this is a bad thing. We got Mr. Lee, instead of Mr. Generous, and per usual, he gave us each a tiny serving and a scowl on the side.

The fried rice tasted like it had been left out for a week. The teriyaki chicken was bitter.

The moral of this story? - we eat Dillons Chinese food waaay too often.