So, I’ve really been slacking off on the blogging lately. But don’t feel bad because it’s not just e-you. Nope, I’ve been slacking off on everything lately.

I blame my ‘roid rage.

And unfortunately for Snooki’s sake, I’m not talking about the “juicehead guido” kind. And fortunately, for my sake, I’m not talking about the butt kind either. Instead, I’m talking about the endocrine gland kind. Wild!

Indeed, after months of feeling endlessly fatigued, battling lots of mind-crushing headaches and suspiciously dropping enough weight to make leggings fit like sweatpants, medical professionals suspect I may have a thyroid problem.


I don’t even know what a thyroid is.

In a way, I suppose, I’m a bit relieved. After feeling progressively sh*ttier day-to-day, it’s nice to know I may be able to blame my lethargy on an actual, treatable cause, opposed to the imaginary tapeworm I nicknamed Steve.

Of course, considering I haven’t gotten the test results back yet, there’s a chance doctors still haven’t figured it out. If my ‘roid ain’t ragin’ then I suppose we’ll have to go back to that proverbial drawing board on which I’ve already sketched Steve.

Ahhh. He looks friendlier than a raging roid.

I joke about all of this, but really this blows and not only because I don’t feel well. It blows because this royally screws up my plans.

I was supposed to go back to Bogotá this Sunday to take more classes, for which, I might add, I already paid. I’m not going anymore. Instead, I’ll be spending next week getting my blood drawn and waiting to hear what terrible affliction I have that may or may not garner a nickname as cool as Steve or ‘Roid. Luckily, I’m pretty sure the nickname doesn’t have it’s own song yet. (I say “yet” because with all the extra time I have now, I plan to write one. What rhymes with hyperthyroidism?)

But while this situation sucks more than Brett Favre’s last-minute decision to throw a football to the other team on Sunday when he should’ve just ran it into field goal territory (seriously, if I recognize a bad move before some official tells me it’s bad, you know it must be really bad); I’m trying to look at this as a temporary setback. And luckily, at least at this point, that’s what it looks like it is. My school says I can start classes later without losing any money and the apartment I found says I can simply move in later without losing my original deposit.

This is a huge relief and knowing that I now have time to take care of my health already makes me feel a little better.

And as far as the blog, well, my ability to bitch, moan and make fun of sh*t is only enhanced by long spouts of downtime. So, while I won’t be posting any more vlogs about puking on volcanoes or eating delicious empanadas with Jesus (not necessarily in that order), I’m sure I’ll be taking a moment or two to tie together PajamaJeans™ with Obama’s State of the Union. Or Norm Coleman’s dentures. Or Jersey Shore.