A Running Commentary

Bulimic Party
Every time I leave my apartment in the Bay to come home I worry that my bulimic roommate will celebrate my absence by indulging further in her bulimia. When I think about it to myself (in my head) I call it a "Bulimic Party"; occasionally I will accidentally mention bulimic parties to others and then have to try to explain it without giving too much away (as it is not my place to blab to anyone, barring the internet, about my roommate's eating disorder). I have never really thought about what goes on at the bulimic party (aside from the obvious bulimia), but I would imagine that it involves listening to loud music and ordering lots of take out. Sometimes I feel sad that I do not get invited to these parties, but then I remember that I am not bulimic and that I hate vomit. Still, ordering lots of take-out sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me.