Painted shirts for Georgia yesterday. Yes, I'm going: the most nervous Frisbee Mom in history. So many people, so little in the way of defined responsibility…

My shirt has an apron on it. Or, it will after I'm done with this post.

Of course, frisbee will never be enough to get my excited on a given night, but luckily is was St. Patrick's Day yesterday and Amelia II brought a backpack full of Irish-themed alcohol to our room. Best roommate's girlfriend ever.

Especially delicious was the St. Brendan's (read: cheap Bailey's) and hot chocolate. Two shots in a mug. Alan changed things up a bit, adding a shot of Creme de Menthe to his special blend. I'm tempted to get on this particular bandwagon and make it my favorite winter drink. But I must be strong, for eggnog.

After as much ultimate frisbee socializing as I could stand, I let the Politician and Frisbee Matt drag me to the Firefly Lounge, inexplicably my favorite Avenue bar.

Zack, my designated donkey, was there. I'm all for originality, but sometimes I just want to relax, and it was wonderful to trade "Simpsons" quotes with each other. We even devised a list of the episodes you have to see before talking to Zack.

Some guy dyed our obligatory pitcher green, and it tasted worse. Finally, uncertain whether or not there was a free bed left in my room, I ended up sleeping at Jinx's. No girl talk (the Politician and her had plenty of that at the bar), just the usual study-abroad conversation.

Leaving for Georgia on Saturday. God.