Pack up all my cares and go, here I go, singin' low

Last week proceeded according to the "severe mental stress followed by reward" metric. I only had time to see Cristina once; can you believe the injustice? Lucky for me, my stomach didn't need the workout - it got plenty of exercise holding alcohol and supporting my breath this past weekend with the Kroks.

(most pictures credit to kang)

Even though the Sanders staff was more categorically anal than anything I've ever experienced, and we got kicked out of Annenberg at the stroke of midnight, the juju kept on flowing thanks to generous Krok alums (and honorary Kroks) and the Presidential Suite at the Charles. K'01 was reunited for the first time since 2002, and pianos at the H-Club allowed for endless repetitions of Buckley and U2, on top of the weekend's expected singing. Eeyore only made one or two appearances, and was quickly sent away with a dash of, "Dude. You're gonna step into the batter's box and start swingin'. And you're gonna strike out some. But you know what? 1 out of 3 is still gonna get you the grand slam and the Hall of Fame." Without a doubt, the best Krok reunion experience I've ever had.

This week? More papers and tests, my first real belt test, and the start of crew to kick my ass. But oh, the reward ... "sweet, just like cotton candy... ee."