Chico State halloween: A trip down memory lane.

Let me state the obvious: tomorrow is Halloween. Here's something even more obvious: I'm getting in the spirit.

(Jeez, this is even my second blog about it.)

People who have spent time around me this time of year know I can go a little overboard for this particular holiday. I have sewn, glued and painted my way into a sequined mermaid, Queen of Hearts, Minnie Mouse, Marge Simpson and flapper costumes. I have forced friends to watch It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown. (They totally liked it.) And have truly out partied the heartiest of partiers. I'm still hungover from 1999. More on that later.

Sadly, this has all died down in the past few years. And frankly it's making me feel old. I'm in this weird in-between stage where half of my friends have kids and go trick or treating and the other half live in apartments and would rather go to a bar than throw a "house party," er, apartment party.

This year, I'm attempting to bring back some of the fun from the old days.

Of course nothing will top the impromptu party that hatched on the front lawn of my house at 812 W. First St. near the Chico State campus, yes, in 1999.

It all started with a few friends drinking Sierra Nevada before heading out into the streets. A friend arrived as a backpacker with a cylinder keg in his backpack, the tap coming around his shoulder like a camelback.

For some reason, hordes of people arrived. No joke, a guy started eating and blowing fire on the lawn. We were like, This is amazing. Then our dear friend in a Tootsie-like wig and a neon leotard with the letter "Q" on his chest (going as "Q-Man, naturally) performed an elaborate gymnastics routine on the 2nd-floor balcony for the crowd.

That was just at my little house. Heading out into the streets, my roommate, dressed as Ted Kaczynski in ridiculously bad-taste form, accidentally bumped his 6-foot-4 frame into a tiny female cop. Someone, dressed and acting as a tourist, snapped a poloroid of the collision and stuffed it into his pocket. He discovered it the next day. An entire group of students performed the Thriller dance throughout the streets. The Simpsons cruised around.

This was Chico State before they clamped down on the Halloween fun. Some of my older colleagues might have even better tales during the Pioneer Days run, which ended in the late '80s.

So this year, I'm bringing back the Halloween spirit. There will be ... well, black vodka cocktails, of course. Although I don't know where to get black vodka just yet. I'm hoping BevMo has some in stock. Possibly Mollie Stones. And there will be costumes. Can't tell you what just yet, but I will say this: all you need is love.

So be safe and stay out of jail tomorrow night, guys.

Can you get pregnant from ... oh, just read it!

So I visited an urgent care facility this afternoon. I had to go because I'm a fool and have not learned to navigate the provider network of my new insurance. Thus, no primary care physician. And damn it, I got a sore throat.

I got there at about 4:45 and the place was empty. The only patients were a couple of peeps whom the staff knew by name. I was pretty confident I'd get in and out quickly with either a lolli or a prescription. I was fine with both. I needed to go into the weekend knowing if I was dealing with something serious. Say, tonsillitis.

So I'm sitting in the room, which the NP posted a "DR. WEISENBERG: NEXT!" sign on. Cute, I thought, a little road map for the doc. I fielded a couple of texts from a friend in need of SF hotel advice.

Coupla minutes pass and the doc comes in, checks out the EN&T situation. He says it looks like I'm fine, just a minor case of "under the weather."

"But, we'll give you a throat culture for strep just in case."

Ok, I'm cool with that. I've had them before.

Turns out the strep test has gone the way of the pregnancy test. Bear with me now.

The doc in the hallway: "Erika! I hear you -- what's the word now -- volunteered to give a culture in room 2D." (That's not really something I wanted to hear, but oh well.)

The nurse comes dragging ass in, rolling the blood pressure machine in with her. "Feeling sick?"

The rubber gloves come on. "This is going to be really uncomfortable and it's going to feel like you're going to throw up. But try not to."

"OK."

Afterward, she pulls out a little plastic white stick, sticks the throat swab in it and sets it on the counter. "Now we have to wait five minutes. I'll be right back."

Shuts the door.

What the hell is that little thing on the desk? Is that an EPT? I see a single blue line start to appear in the "window." Wow, that's a far cry from when they took the "results" away from the patient and then called you at home or made you wait a few hours in the lab. WTF?

While I was sitting there I saw a printout tacked to the wall reading "Medication shapes and colors." There was a spearmint tic tac, a blue eraser and a white original iPod shuffle.

Coulda done without seeing that.

Then I read the flu shot poster: "Don't forget to ask for your orange lollipop after your flu shot -- while supplies last!"

While supplies last?

At this point, I was not feeling so ready to see the results of my pregnancy test.

Doc walks in, looks down at the plastic stick. "No strep!" he beams.

I had told him earlier I was taking ibuprofen for the pain.

"Now, about that ibuprofen," he says, his eyes level with mine. "Need anything stronger?"

It was like I was back at Chico State, in the student health center, where vicodin flew off the shelves and all you had to say was, "I can't sleep, therefore, I can't study." (I never did that btw.)

"No, but thanks. Really, thank you."

Did I just say thank you to the doc for a prescription that I turned down? Yeah, I guess I did. Twice. And smarter people would say I was a fool.