Nico-Whaaaat!

As a kid I loved stickers. Sometimes I would put them on and call them tatoos. But one night at the sitting with some of the guys on the balcony in front of my room at the Chi Phi house I had a new experience with adhesive fun, and I'm not talking about bondage.

I was just sitting there shooting the shit with the guys, enjoying a Kentucky Deluxe and Coke, when Heath Shields asked me if I wanted a cigarette. I politely said no. Upon my refusal he asked me why I declined. I plainly explained that I don't like inhaling smoke into my lungs. A sly smirk crossed his face, as it often does, and he asked me if I'd like to try a nicotine patch instead. At first I said no, but eventually caved to the mounting peer pressure coming at me pincer style from the rest of the guys sitting out there that particular night. Like Marty McFly being callled yellow I of course said, bring it on."

So Heath disappears into his room and emerges with this. I had finished my KDC and moved on to beer (Bud Light most likely). We cleaned off my arm and slapped that puppy on. Then I just continued on like nothing happened. We sat there talking. Heath got me my next couple of beers. After a while I looked at him flatly and said, slightly inebriated, "This shit ain't working. I don't feel a damn thing. I'm gonna go pee." No sooner had I stood up then I became more dizzy than I had ever been. I barely caught myself before falling off the balcony. Everybody else quickly realized just how messed up I was. After walking into my doorpost on the way out of my room, I plopped myself back in my seat. After this, things get fuzzy for a while.

At on point, my girlfriend at the time came by with her friend. I think it might have been her birthday (I know, I'm an ass!) but she had spent it with her sorority sisters so I didn't think she would be by. After she left I had a couple more drinks towards my oblivion.

Suddenly, something wasn't right. Someone had tightened vice-grips around my stomach. My abdomen starting twisting in a way that would make Chubby Checker jealous. I had to do something quick. I ran to the farthest edge of the balcony and barked like the Drill Seargent in Full Metal Jacket. Afterwards I rejoined the group and had another beer to try to quell the torment in my midsection. After that, I bid everyone goodnight (and called Heath a bad name... to which he laughed), and called it a night.

So remember kids, it doesn't matter how much you like stickers. Never use ones with medical terms on them.