Who am I?

The most frustrating thing about keeping this blog anonymous is that when something happens to me - something so awesome that I want to shout it to the world - I can't say it here because it will reveal enough details about me that if a reader really cared to find out who I was, they could. So, I self-edit to ensure I remain anonymous.

That said, this Saturday, my rugby team won a game. A big game. A huge game. A holy-shit-we-never-thought-we'd-go-this-far game. A game that went back and forth the entire time, filled with nail-biting intensity and vicious hits.  A game that yours truly played all 80 minutes of and kicked ass the entire time.  But if I say who it was against, or why it was such a big deal, or even what the score was, then it becomes obvious what school I go to and what team I play for.  And as the only member of that team who openly likes cock, it identifies who I am way too easily.  Therefore, dear reader, you'll have to take my word for it that it was unbelievably, earth shatteringly awesome and that you should be duly impressed, even as I provide no evidence for why that is so.

Last night, after the game, we hit the pub where we had victory drinks and wings.  They don't card us there and they give us free pitchers of good beer because we bring in a couple hundred bucks worth of business and we're polite and don't break the furniture.  I headed home afterward, passed out in bed for a while, got up, and decided to go out partying for Halloween weekend.

I needed a costume, and I didn't have anything, so I called up my professor, and asked him if I could borrow some scrubs and a lab coat from the lab. He said sure on two conditions: 1) I return them later in good shape, and 2) I don't tell anyone.

Properly attired, I went to the frat quad, where I went to one of the frats that is partially owned by the rugby team (to make life easier for the team, there is no one frat which the team associates with. Instead, we have most of our players split up across several frats.  Two frats now have ruggers as presidents, and three others have them on their executive boards).  There, I was peer pressured into having a double shot of tequila. Followed by two more. Followed by one more shot.

Then, I and seven other ruggers crammed into a little compact car and drove over to the rugby house (which, the tenants of that house like to remind everyone, it is not the rugby house, it is merely a house rented by members of the rugby team, two of whom happen to be the president and vice president of the rugby club).  There, I played some pong, drank some beers, hit on girls, got rejected, and returned to the frat quad.  I returned to the frat quad mildly drunk, found it heavily occupied by security, and made out with a lesbian friend who's costume was a "straight girl." I also saw three girls dressed as, I shit you not, a slutty nurse, a slutty maid, and a slutty slut.  Seriously. A slutty slut.

I went home, fell asleep, awoke Sunday afternoon and went to campus.  I watched the Patriots-Steelers game with three of my rugby friends, all of whom were Patriot fans. I gleefully rubbed it in their faces as the Steelers beat the unbelieving shit out of the Patriots. Tom Brady can suck my dick. I then returned my scrubs, neatly folded, to the lab and worked on my application for a $50, 000 scholarship that's due Tuesday.  My professor and I went over the draft for his recommendation later. I suggested adding "He is also devilishly handsome and exceptionally witty." He replaced that with "He is also an exceptional Elvish Thief in D&D, I hear tell." We compromised on "He is the most qualified applicant I know of for this scholarship and I could not recommend him more highly."

With that, I have an ultrasound in the morning to deal with the hydrocele in my left testicle, so I am off to bed. Goodnight.