I'm really tired. I'm sitting at the back desk, hiding away like a fugitive, in full view of all who pass by, but I want to just flop over to the side and embrace unconciousness.
I'm in such an uncomfortable internal position right now. I haven't bathed (but I'm wearing a decent shirt to hide the fact), I'm tired, and I have to poop so bad my back hurts.
I would have taken care of that last little bit, but I pressed the snooze button 3 times too many and ended up waking up half an hour later than I probably should have.
I just yawned louder than was necessary. It was pretty much a shout. If I were more important to this glorious instiution people may have looked up. But they expect student workers to be freaks of nature.
And if you're expecting Igor, my presence isn't that shocking.
I'm having a REALLY hard time keeping my eyes open. That's the main reason I'm writing this; because it keeps my hands busy, which in turn keeps my mind busy. It's like when old people do crossword puzzles as an attempt to keep off the cold embrace of dementia. But it gets them anyway. You can't beat off Mother Nature.
But you can probably beat off Father Nature.
That was dirty. I'm sorry.
Anyway, before I went on that busted little extravaganza I had the full intention of telling you about Jewboy. And how much I hate him.
He is SO gross.
Don't get me wrong; I love me some Jewish men. They're my favorite. I want to lick sugar off of their shnozes. But not this homeboy.
He's about 5' 7" and of average weight. Maybe a little pudgey. But he has a complete absense of neck and these disgusting waify fingers that play with his greasy, dandruff-y hair while he talks on the phone to "Patti," a girl I am assuming is fat.
His voice sounds like a drag queen meets Urkle, and he insists on talking ALL the time. Either it's on the phone, or to this super friendly black guy with acne that rides the bus with us.
Oh yeah, he's on my bus. That's how I have come to know him. So not only do I have to hear this fool, but the noise echoes in the confines of public transportation.
My first encounter with Jewboy was a great way to set off a bad impression. This enormous cluster of people, including myself, was waiting for the bus when I hear the absolute worst music of all time blasting from some greasy point of space behind me.
I turn around and there he is... wearing green. As always. He has his baby blue slider phone out by his ear and is blasting emo-bitch femme rock like he's doing us some great favor. That fucking dick...
I'm really big on first impressions, and homeboy kicked off our fabulous pseudo-relationship (my hateful creeping) like a champ.
I hate him.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
My Encounter with the Asians and Biggie
I have had SUCH a productive morning.
I got up like a person, showered like a person, walked to work like a person and then was told in person, rather than a convenient call, that the staff is having a retreat today from 8:30 to 4, so my being there is unnecessary.
I toyed with the idea of going home and sleeping until my next class (which starts at 2), but then somehow my feet led me to the bus stop and I got to Tempe by 8:30. Having nothing else to do I went over to Einstein Bros. and got a coffee and a freaking delicious Asiago Bagel with Veggie Shmear.
I sit down in the beautiful morning sunshine and begin to eat, watching the birds frolic around me and noticing that one of them is pretty much a person and definitely the leader of the bunch; I'll call him Biggie Smallz.
So Biggie's prancing around like the little sparrow he is, when he looks up and notices that I'm watching him. There was an awkward moment when we made eye contact and we both instictively understood that we had both been creepin'.
The next thing I knew, he had leapt up onto the chair next to me. There was something in his beady little eyes that told me that he was the dominant animal in our encounter and that I should feed him without question.
So I did.
I took a little piece of bagel (minus the shmear; I could tell he had no time for shmear) and held it close to him. He looked at me like I was an idiot. So of course, I put it closer.
And let me just tell you that it was the most spiritually uplifting and bitchin' moment of my life when Biggie leaned over and took it straight from my quivering fingertips.
Of course I instantly texted everyone I know about the event.
So, thinking he's finished with me, I go back to sipping my coffee and watching Laura, a girl with shitty taste in music and pink streaks in her gingery-brown hair whose name I only know because she was talking to her doctor about a cough she's been having that apparently leaves her breathless and dying after an attack (I definitely saw no death and she was coughing enough for an entire culture).
But he came back! I looked over and he was sitting right where he was before, looking at me with the same expression as he had when we first met. But this time he had some crumbs of my bagel on his tiny beak. I would meet the only gluttonous Animorph.
So I gave him another piece.
And then he left me without a word or a cheep. He may as well have left a twenty on the bedside table.
After that I went over to bask in the sunshine on the mall in the middle of campus. On my way there I happened across a booksale and purchased an anthology of Emerson for $8. It was printed in 1969 and smells fabulous. I read the entirity of "The American Scholar" before I realized that ONCE AGAIN I had been bitten by some mysterious insect. They are the bane of my motherfucking existence.
So I scratched it with the end of the concrete I was sitting on, leaving not only a droplet of blood from a scratch, but a huge ashy patch of skin that definitely needed some undoing.
I walked over to the Store of Ridiculously Expensive Bullshit, but on my way I encountered a group of Asians tabling to save the Vietnamese children from poverty and donated a dollar to their cause (because I'm SUCH a good person) and they gave me a box of "Lucky Stick" as compensation. I don't know if you know what those are, but they are the shiznit. "Biscuit stick covered with chocolate flavored cream." Oh man.
But then I get to the SOREB and purchase a tiny thing of lotion for $5. What the hell? It's 3 fluid ounces. They should be giving that shit away! And not only that, but it's thicker than crap and upon applying it, I looked like I was preparing to attack the neighboring tribe! Horseshit.
But that's been my morning. 3 hours of excitement. I would be getting off of work in 7 minutes, and I probably would have just watched Glee. Which is cool. But not as cool as feeding starving Asians and Biggie.
I got up like a person, showered like a person, walked to work like a person and then was told in person, rather than a convenient call, that the staff is having a retreat today from 8:30 to 4, so my being there is unnecessary.
I toyed with the idea of going home and sleeping until my next class (which starts at 2), but then somehow my feet led me to the bus stop and I got to Tempe by 8:30. Having nothing else to do I went over to Einstein Bros. and got a coffee and a freaking delicious Asiago Bagel with Veggie Shmear.
I sit down in the beautiful morning sunshine and begin to eat, watching the birds frolic around me and noticing that one of them is pretty much a person and definitely the leader of the bunch; I'll call him Biggie Smallz.
So Biggie's prancing around like the little sparrow he is, when he looks up and notices that I'm watching him. There was an awkward moment when we made eye contact and we both instictively understood that we had both been creepin'.
The next thing I knew, he had leapt up onto the chair next to me. There was something in his beady little eyes that told me that he was the dominant animal in our encounter and that I should feed him without question.
So I did.
I took a little piece of bagel (minus the shmear; I could tell he had no time for shmear) and held it close to him. He looked at me like I was an idiot. So of course, I put it closer.
And let me just tell you that it was the most spiritually uplifting and bitchin' moment of my life when Biggie leaned over and took it straight from my quivering fingertips.
Of course I instantly texted everyone I know about the event.
So, thinking he's finished with me, I go back to sipping my coffee and watching Laura, a girl with shitty taste in music and pink streaks in her gingery-brown hair whose name I only know because she was talking to her doctor about a cough she's been having that apparently leaves her breathless and dying after an attack (I definitely saw no death and she was coughing enough for an entire culture).
But he came back! I looked over and he was sitting right where he was before, looking at me with the same expression as he had when we first met. But this time he had some crumbs of my bagel on his tiny beak. I would meet the only gluttonous Animorph.
So I gave him another piece.
And then he left me without a word or a cheep. He may as well have left a twenty on the bedside table.
After that I went over to bask in the sunshine on the mall in the middle of campus. On my way there I happened across a booksale and purchased an anthology of Emerson for $8. It was printed in 1969 and smells fabulous. I read the entirity of "The American Scholar" before I realized that ONCE AGAIN I had been bitten by some mysterious insect. They are the bane of my motherfucking existence.
So I scratched it with the end of the concrete I was sitting on, leaving not only a droplet of blood from a scratch, but a huge ashy patch of skin that definitely needed some undoing.
I walked over to the Store of Ridiculously Expensive Bullshit, but on my way I encountered a group of Asians tabling to save the Vietnamese children from poverty and donated a dollar to their cause (because I'm SUCH a good person) and they gave me a box of "Lucky Stick" as compensation. I don't know if you know what those are, but they are the shiznit. "Biscuit stick covered with chocolate flavored cream." Oh man.
But then I get to the SOREB and purchase a tiny thing of lotion for $5. What the hell? It's 3 fluid ounces. They should be giving that shit away! And not only that, but it's thicker than crap and upon applying it, I looked like I was preparing to attack the neighboring tribe! Horseshit.
But that's been my morning. 3 hours of excitement. I would be getting off of work in 7 minutes, and I probably would have just watched Glee. Which is cool. But not as cool as feeding starving Asians and Biggie.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Actually
I hate the word "actually."
I don't use hate lightly, but I can honestly say that out of any word in any language from any culture on any planet, I hate the word actually the most.
It reminds me of sandy 6 year olds and pretentious 10 year olds. The type that think they know more than you do even though they've only been on earth for, at most, 120 months. I could annihilate their entire existence and no one would miss them but their mothers.
I am not homicidal, but sometimes I want to throw those kids over a telephone wire like a pair of sneakers in the ghetto.
And the way the word sounds in its own little maniacal essence is just disgusting. "Ak-chu-al-ee." That's how those little children say it. With an overexaggerated emphasis on the "Ak" sound.
Fucking ew.
Also, in this mental image they have on chocolate-smudged glasses and are wiping the mucus from their dripping nostils with stubby little fingers and looking up at you with hair that sticks up in places that should never stick up. Every child that overuses this word in my mind had a cowlick. A nasty one in an inconvenient place.
And I hate it when adults use it. It is never used in a responsible sense. People only use it when they are correcting other people (or occasionally themselves, but I really don't care to differentiate).
I have a professor who uses it to a degree only known to mutants like himself. The thing is, he is a great professor and he knows his shit, but when he uses a sentence like, "And the protein is actually made out of actual little poly-actual-peptides, actually" I want to beat him with the sharp end of a hammer.
He's a very handsome man. He's very intelligent and he has much to offer the world, but no self respecting woman would ever breed with him because he will always be correcting her. Always be saying "Ak-chu-al-ee".
I don't use hate lightly, but I can honestly say that out of any word in any language from any culture on any planet, I hate the word actually the most.
It reminds me of sandy 6 year olds and pretentious 10 year olds. The type that think they know more than you do even though they've only been on earth for, at most, 120 months. I could annihilate their entire existence and no one would miss them but their mothers.
I am not homicidal, but sometimes I want to throw those kids over a telephone wire like a pair of sneakers in the ghetto.
And the way the word sounds in its own little maniacal essence is just disgusting. "Ak-chu-al-ee." That's how those little children say it. With an overexaggerated emphasis on the "Ak" sound.
Fucking ew.
Also, in this mental image they have on chocolate-smudged glasses and are wiping the mucus from their dripping nostils with stubby little fingers and looking up at you with hair that sticks up in places that should never stick up. Every child that overuses this word in my mind had a cowlick. A nasty one in an inconvenient place.
And I hate it when adults use it. It is never used in a responsible sense. People only use it when they are correcting other people (or occasionally themselves, but I really don't care to differentiate).
I have a professor who uses it to a degree only known to mutants like himself. The thing is, he is a great professor and he knows his shit, but when he uses a sentence like, "And the protein is actually made out of actual little poly-actual-peptides, actually" I want to beat him with the sharp end of a hammer.
He's a very handsome man. He's very intelligent and he has much to offer the world, but no self respecting woman would ever breed with him because he will always be correcting her. Always be saying "Ak-chu-al-ee".
Lauren
So... Once again the entire staff is in a meeting and here I sit. At the front desk. Alone. On Facebook.
But on the bright side, this gives me time to blog! Joy.
So this is my story: My friend Lauren broke her phone/charger combo so not only can she not text me and keep my pocket company, but she doesn't have an alarm clock. So rather than have her be late for work and get fired so she can't make Gucci money any more, I kindly volunteered to wake her up this morning. At seven o'clock.
I usually wake up at seven o'clock anyway to prepare myself for the rigorous day ahead, but it's one thing to be CONSCIOUS at that time and another thing entirely to have to actually function.
My alarm went off at 6:55 and I arose from my slumber like a lioness. Unhappy and with an enormous, backarching yawn. I rose up, grabbed my keys and hobbled over to the elevator so I could go down 3 floors and knock on her door.
I knocked to no avail.
There I am, standing braless in a t-shirt, barefoot, with greasy hair and puffy eyes, and that bitch has the audacity to ignore my knocking.
So I knock again. After a few seconds she stumbles to the door and cracks it enough to glare at me and growl "Good morning." I had nothing else to say but, "Morning." But I courteously gave an awkward side wave before I began the trek back upstairs where I crashed for another 20 minutes.
I am SUCH a good friend.
But on the bright side, this gives me time to blog! Joy.
So this is my story: My friend Lauren broke her phone/charger combo so not only can she not text me and keep my pocket company, but she doesn't have an alarm clock. So rather than have her be late for work and get fired so she can't make Gucci money any more, I kindly volunteered to wake her up this morning. At seven o'clock.
I usually wake up at seven o'clock anyway to prepare myself for the rigorous day ahead, but it's one thing to be CONSCIOUS at that time and another thing entirely to have to actually function.
My alarm went off at 6:55 and I arose from my slumber like a lioness. Unhappy and with an enormous, backarching yawn. I rose up, grabbed my keys and hobbled over to the elevator so I could go down 3 floors and knock on her door.
I knocked to no avail.
There I am, standing braless in a t-shirt, barefoot, with greasy hair and puffy eyes, and that bitch has the audacity to ignore my knocking.
So I knock again. After a few seconds she stumbles to the door and cracks it enough to glare at me and growl "Good morning." I had nothing else to say but, "Morning." But I courteously gave an awkward side wave before I began the trek back upstairs where I crashed for another 20 minutes.
I am SUCH a good friend.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Impregnation
I have been eaten alive. I can promise you I am not being the slightest bit overdramatic when I say that I will probably have to have my legs amputated shortly because I will rip them off with pliers if someone doesn't do it for me.
Ants.
They got me. Or maybe it was mosquitos. I'm not an entomologist and WebMD can't tell me what it is when the only description I can yield is, "It's itchy." I left out the part about it being red and raised because that's basically what "It's itchy." means. Obviously.
I'm sure I'm about to become a mother of some tiny pestilence, in the style of the Surinam Toad. Only I didn't want these children. This was nonconsensual.
Not the kind of nonconsensual like, "Oh, it broke." But the kind like, "Hey. You're drunk at a party, I'm drunk at a party. How you doin'?"
Tragic.
They have anti-itch stuff in the store below my dorm. But that requires money. And I have literally none of that. I'm about a minute away from asking a homeless man for spare change.
So here I sit, scratching away, patiently awaiting motherhood.
Ants.
They got me. Or maybe it was mosquitos. I'm not an entomologist and WebMD can't tell me what it is when the only description I can yield is, "It's itchy." I left out the part about it being red and raised because that's basically what "It's itchy." means. Obviously.
I'm sure I'm about to become a mother of some tiny pestilence, in the style of the Surinam Toad. Only I didn't want these children. This was nonconsensual.
Not the kind of nonconsensual like, "Oh, it broke." But the kind like, "Hey. You're drunk at a party, I'm drunk at a party. How you doin'?"
Tragic.
They have anti-itch stuff in the store below my dorm. But that requires money. And I have literally none of that. I'm about a minute away from asking a homeless man for spare change.
So here I sit, scratching away, patiently awaiting motherhood.
Follower
Michelle Rivas is the fastest person alive. I'm talking Marion Jones status.
I just made this blog like half an hour ago and finished typing some insignificant crap and posted it to Facebook with the extraordinarily witty caption, "So... I made a blog."
I go back to proofread it and make sure that I'm not a shame to Literature majors everywhere and I see that I have a single follower! You can't possibly imagine my excitement. I look over and there she is, smiling back at me from the little thumbnail.
I'm extremely excited because I find this girl hilarious. Well... her Facebook postings/blog. I'm sure she's hilarious in other aspects too, but I don't know her extremely well. A casual-acquaintance-I-wish-was-my-best-friend type of deal.
But... she likes me! She really likes me!
And of course, I'm extremely excited.
I just made this blog like half an hour ago and finished typing some insignificant crap and posted it to Facebook with the extraordinarily witty caption, "So... I made a blog."
I go back to proofread it and make sure that I'm not a shame to Literature majors everywhere and I see that I have a single follower! You can't possibly imagine my excitement. I look over and there she is, smiling back at me from the little thumbnail.
I'm extremely excited because I find this girl hilarious. Well... her Facebook postings/blog. I'm sure she's hilarious in other aspects too, but I don't know her extremely well. A casual-acquaintance-I-wish-was-my-best-friend type of deal.
But... she likes me! She really likes me!
And of course, I'm extremely excited.
Lotion
I'm at work. There's a staff meeting going on, but because I am a pathetic, lowly student worker I have not been invited to attend. So here I sit. Blogging. I work at the front desk of an office that I may or may not name eventually and there is a girl waiting to meet with one of the advisors. She's on her laptop and I'm sure she's basking in envy because I have the easiest job of all time.
I creep on Facebook. I talk to my coworker. And I smile and say good morning to passerbys. Occasionally I'm asked to file things, make copies, or if they're feeling jazzy I do some data entry. I haven't been trained to use the phones yet, so I don't really have to interact with people.
I'd be jealous too.
But as I sat here I realized that my body was disgustingly ashy. I'm talking straight up tribal Africa ashy. So I walk to the back of the office where they have a little station with antibacterial and lotion and lube up.
I had no idea that that lotion would smell like freaking Vicks Vaporub and that I would smell like an old woman for the rest of the day. But... it did and I do.
I can't say it's an offensive smell, in fact it reminds me of being tiny and small. But it's sort of oppressive and I've definitely been judged for smelling like this.
But ohhhhh... It's so cool and refreshing on my legs. It's eucalyptus-y and tingly. And frankly I may or may not steal the entire bottle from the desk. But that would be embezzlement and I'm not about losing this wonderful job.
I creep on Facebook. I talk to my coworker. And I smile and say good morning to passerbys. Occasionally I'm asked to file things, make copies, or if they're feeling jazzy I do some data entry. I haven't been trained to use the phones yet, so I don't really have to interact with people.
I'd be jealous too.
But as I sat here I realized that my body was disgustingly ashy. I'm talking straight up tribal Africa ashy. So I walk to the back of the office where they have a little station with antibacterial and lotion and lube up.
I had no idea that that lotion would smell like freaking Vicks Vaporub and that I would smell like an old woman for the rest of the day. But... it did and I do.
I can't say it's an offensive smell, in fact it reminds me of being tiny and small. But it's sort of oppressive and I've definitely been judged for smelling like this.
But ohhhhh... It's so cool and refreshing on my legs. It's eucalyptus-y and tingly. And frankly I may or may not steal the entire bottle from the desk. But that would be embezzlement and I'm not about losing this wonderful job.
NoDoz Caffeine Pills (Imported from Facebook)
As I write this, I'm fidgeting with my toes and biting my inner lip. I can feel my heart beating in my chest and let me just say that I'm pretty sure I could jump start a car with this bitch. My fingers are moving too fast for me to type with any accuracy, so I've typed, misspelled, deleted, and then respelled almost every word I've typed on this little bad boy.
My body cannot deal with caffeine. Period. Well... More specifically it cannot deal with NoDoz caffeine pills. But like the inhuman that I am, I still take them. Usually on an empty stomach.
Please take note that my phone just vibrated. It's Grace texting me, guilting me for not going to dinner with her and our friends. But I have homework to do. Which is exactly why I took those pills in the first place. My phone is entirely too bright for any situation. There's a little red beep going on because I flipped it over rather than read what she said, because I know that in my state right now whatever it says is going to put me into a panic or make me angry.
I want to throw it across the room.
I feel like I've just done a speedball. And I took the last pill at freaking 2:15. It's 6 o'clock! No one should ever be this affected by a single pill. Well... actually two.
But this isn't the first time I've taken these. And the same freaking things happened to me last time. But I'm a slow learner. I've got 8 of those pills left, and I'm not about wasting money. So the next month ain't gonna be cute.
I took one this morning because I was dozing off at work and no one wants their student worker to pass out while doing tedious data entry. That doesn't inspire much confidence from the nursing students who are, let it be known, fucking psycho. No one should ever be as driven as they are. And not even driven, completely obsessive. It's just beyond my comprehension. Probably because I'm the laziest creature ever to walk the earth and I'm majoring in freaking Literature (i.e. I'm reading.)
But anyway, I was totally fine after I took the first one, but of course, I took it on an empty stomach and my bowels were NOT happy. I was trying to read The Brothers Karamozov at work and all I could focus on was my writhing organs. And Facebook. Always Facebook. Because I'm a motha' effin' addict.
I almost didn't go to class today because I had to drop the kids off at the pool. But I did. BTW, when I went to write "pool" I initially wrote "poop" because my mind knows no censorship.
Anyway, I totally went. And it was kinda worth it. But whatev.
After that I had lunch with Filipe who I was like 4 seconds from stabbing the entire time because I was exhausted but my mind was going entirely too fast, and he was talking like Casey Affleck because the poor child is sick. But my psychotic brain couldn't handle that at ALL. So I was going to beat him to death the the Taco Bell he bought me. BUT I didn't and he lived. In fact, I'm pretty sure he had no idea that I wanted to kill him. He may now though, considering I am writing this now.
Nicole just came home and closed the door. It was SO loud.
But back to Philly. While I was eating lunch I took another of those badboys because I could feel the effects drifting away and I had another class to go to and be intellectually stimulated and frankly those peeps in that class are either a.) extremely intelligent and I need to be able to keep up, or b.) extremely pretentious and I've been known to say rude things to people when I'm sleepy. By the time I washed down the pill with my freaking delicious Diet Coke (yeah, I'm one of those fat girls who drinks Diet Coke because she thinks it compensates for eating 14 gorditas) my body had already released the chemicals because it has the placebo effect and my body freaking knows what's up.
So I was about to take my top off and sprint around Taco Bell. Or kill Phill with a random passerby. Either one. But I managed to control myself enough and channel my energy into laughing at pictures of Hipster Dinosaurs.
I fucking hate hipsters. BTW, Rimbauld, the French poet, was an early predecessor of the hipsters. And frankly that's all I kept thinking in the class I was in...
So I leave, go to class, judge people, make awesome mental connections pertaining to absolutely nothing, and begin my odyssey home.
I get to the bus stop and there is like seven thousand people at the damn stop. Call me a hypocrite, but I hate when people freaking huddle together when the bus comes and there's like ENTIRELY too much body heat all around the entrance to the bus and nothing gets done in a timely manner and it's just fucking bullshit.
So I get on the bus and sit next to this super sweet girl who moved her backpack for me. But then the other 6,998 people get on and the thing is PACKED. So then all my pent up energy went into freaking out about my situation.
- There were way too many people standing in the aisles.
- The smell and ominous density of body heat was just... indescribable.
- My neck hurt.
- It was SO dark.
- The guy standing next to me's pants kept brushing my arm. I was going to rip them off.
- My seat kept reclining when I didn't want it to.
- I'm feeling car sick. Which NEVER happens
- This imbecilic girl behind me with a unibrow and a disgusting shade of magenta on her lips and teeth was talking very loudly on the phone to her cousin about how her sister was in rehab and how she called her in the middle of the night last night to have a "heart to heart" and how her family expects her to stop everything and help her, like always, and how her life could never be complicated because her family doesn't listen to her or appreciate her and how everyone always thinks she has the perfect life because she never says anything and how blah fucking blah.
Then I get home. And I write this. And now I'm going to nap. Because I can STILL hear my heart beat and I'm STILL misspelling every word and I'm STILL fidgeting with my toes.
My body cannot deal with caffeine. Period. Well... More specifically it cannot deal with NoDoz caffeine pills. But like the inhuman that I am, I still take them. Usually on an empty stomach.
Please take note that my phone just vibrated. It's Grace texting me, guilting me for not going to dinner with her and our friends. But I have homework to do. Which is exactly why I took those pills in the first place. My phone is entirely too bright for any situation. There's a little red beep going on because I flipped it over rather than read what she said, because I know that in my state right now whatever it says is going to put me into a panic or make me angry.
I want to throw it across the room.
I feel like I've just done a speedball. And I took the last pill at freaking 2:15. It's 6 o'clock! No one should ever be this affected by a single pill. Well... actually two.
But this isn't the first time I've taken these. And the same freaking things happened to me last time. But I'm a slow learner. I've got 8 of those pills left, and I'm not about wasting money. So the next month ain't gonna be cute.
I took one this morning because I was dozing off at work and no one wants their student worker to pass out while doing tedious data entry. That doesn't inspire much confidence from the nursing students who are, let it be known, fucking psycho. No one should ever be as driven as they are. And not even driven, completely obsessive. It's just beyond my comprehension. Probably because I'm the laziest creature ever to walk the earth and I'm majoring in freaking Literature (i.e. I'm reading.)
But anyway, I was totally fine after I took the first one, but of course, I took it on an empty stomach and my bowels were NOT happy. I was trying to read The Brothers Karamozov at work and all I could focus on was my writhing organs. And Facebook. Always Facebook. Because I'm a motha' effin' addict.
I almost didn't go to class today because I had to drop the kids off at the pool. But I did. BTW, when I went to write "pool" I initially wrote "poop" because my mind knows no censorship.
Anyway, I totally went. And it was kinda worth it. But whatev.
After that I had lunch with Filipe who I was like 4 seconds from stabbing the entire time because I was exhausted but my mind was going entirely too fast, and he was talking like Casey Affleck because the poor child is sick. But my psychotic brain couldn't handle that at ALL. So I was going to beat him to death the the Taco Bell he bought me. BUT I didn't and he lived. In fact, I'm pretty sure he had no idea that I wanted to kill him. He may now though, considering I am writing this now.
Nicole just came home and closed the door. It was SO loud.
But back to Philly. While I was eating lunch I took another of those badboys because I could feel the effects drifting away and I had another class to go to and be intellectually stimulated and frankly those peeps in that class are either a.) extremely intelligent and I need to be able to keep up, or b.) extremely pretentious and I've been known to say rude things to people when I'm sleepy. By the time I washed down the pill with my freaking delicious Diet Coke (yeah, I'm one of those fat girls who drinks Diet Coke because she thinks it compensates for eating 14 gorditas) my body had already released the chemicals because it has the placebo effect and my body freaking knows what's up.
So I was about to take my top off and sprint around Taco Bell. Or kill Phill with a random passerby. Either one. But I managed to control myself enough and channel my energy into laughing at pictures of Hipster Dinosaurs.
I fucking hate hipsters. BTW, Rimbauld, the French poet, was an early predecessor of the hipsters. And frankly that's all I kept thinking in the class I was in...
So I leave, go to class, judge people, make awesome mental connections pertaining to absolutely nothing, and begin my odyssey home.
I get to the bus stop and there is like seven thousand people at the damn stop. Call me a hypocrite, but I hate when people freaking huddle together when the bus comes and there's like ENTIRELY too much body heat all around the entrance to the bus and nothing gets done in a timely manner and it's just fucking bullshit.
So I get on the bus and sit next to this super sweet girl who moved her backpack for me. But then the other 6,998 people get on and the thing is PACKED. So then all my pent up energy went into freaking out about my situation.
- There were way too many people standing in the aisles.
- The smell and ominous density of body heat was just... indescribable.
- My neck hurt.
- It was SO dark.
- The guy standing next to me's pants kept brushing my arm. I was going to rip them off.
- My seat kept reclining when I didn't want it to.
- I'm feeling car sick. Which NEVER happens
- This imbecilic girl behind me with a unibrow and a disgusting shade of magenta on her lips and teeth was talking very loudly on the phone to her cousin about how her sister was in rehab and how she called her in the middle of the night last night to have a "heart to heart" and how her family expects her to stop everything and help her, like always, and how her life could never be complicated because her family doesn't listen to her or appreciate her and how everyone always thinks she has the perfect life because she never says anything and how blah fucking blah.
Then I get home. And I write this. And now I'm going to nap. Because I can STILL hear my heart beat and I'm STILL misspelling every word and I'm STILL fidgeting with my toes.
SO MUCH ENERGY!
My Dream (Imported from Facebook)
To begin, a few people who aren't as close to me as the other participants in this dream extravaganza (i.e. random classmates and the like) were all attempting to hike this mini-trail along a craggy water's edge. We had to return shortly and didn't want to get our socks dirty. It was EXTREMELY important that we didn't dirty our precious shoe underwear.
Somehow that transitioned to my family and I having been put in this canyon by some conspiracy. Why our little family was chosen was unclear, but nevertheless we couldn't touch the water. It had been poisoned and the entire canyon was laced with a sort of super-effective small pox gas. This is the reason we were trying so desperately to get out. We had reached the end of the canyon; me and my dad had been sent on, because the going was hard. We were only about 20 feet from the rest of the family when we thought we had found salvation. We opened a microwave drawer within the cliff-face only to find boiled zucchini. Said zucchini was apparently the gas in it's purest form and we were henceforth doomed.
Sad life.
So my dad and I, having already been damned, swam over to the rest of the family through a sort of gaseous water that didn't get us wet. Knowing that we were most likely moments from death, having inhaled the zucchini gas, we all huddled together and tried to keep my cousin (who was 6 in this dream) from knowing what was going on. No one wants a little kid to die scared.
But just was we had all settled down to the point of reminiscing about the good times to die in a relatively happy environment, I decided that there was no way in hell that I was going to let my family die in such a pathetic way. So, being that I was already going to die, I began to scale the side of the mountain like MiMiSeeKoo at the beginning of that movie with Tim Allen. Jungle to Jungle?
Much to the surprise of everyone involved, I got to the top and dropped a line down to bring my pathetically shivering family to safety.
Enter Another Scene Shift:
Every one of my closest friends from high school, my family (who had apparently recovered quite well), and I were all at this extremely detailed, if incredibly macabre, theatre where my extremely sexy ENG 200 teacher was doing a one man show involving locking all of the audience members into the theatre and playing out his sick fantasies upon randoms he found in the darkness of the House. There was 16th Century-esque magic involved and it was supremely horrifying. For his final number, he somehow managed to get himself up to the rafters and drop down on the audience wearing an excellently crafted moth suit with a 40 foot wingspan. It was of fuzzy theatre curtain material and when he dropped down on us we were all suffocating. Once again death was imminent.
But my friend Sam and I managed to get free and run from the theatre. I have no clue what happened to the rest of the audience, but being that I didn't get that sickly tingly feeling, I'm assuming they all got out alive. But probably not.
Enter Another Scene Shift:
All my friends who would regularly be at a party were collected at this rundown house. There was graffiti on the external walls and the furniture was the type that you find under a tree in a riverbed.
Something was terribly wrong, but because I was smoking pot/tobacco out of what I remember to be the little baggy thing a tampon comes in (not the tampon, the protective seal) I couldn't focus on what it was. One of my exboyfriends was there and he could tell something was wrong too, but the thing was that only I knew what it was, and I couldn't speak.
Another of my friends was running around showing the world her cooch at this time, just for background info. Everyone else was just... engaged in normal party behavior. But I suppose that's normal party behavior too... Whatever, I digress.
Finally we came to the conclusion that the drugs were laced with a different sort of biological weapon and that we were all doomed.
Once again.
But as is my way, I escaped with a hybrid of three of my good friends and went to find the solution to this epidemic of shit that had become my life.
So the Hybrid and I were attempting to break into this "The Crazies"-esque holding facility, but then a truck came and I dropped to the ground to not be seen. The Hybrid was still behind a wall and couldn't be seen. However, for some reason I was wearing a construction worker's reflective vest, so I was caught in the headlights like a pheasant.
Men were running up to me to shoot me like a dog, but then Hybrid jumped out and told them that she was a photographer that they had hired to distract them. I told them that I was her assistant and they began to lead us inside.
But then Karen texted me in real life and I woke up.
I can only assume that I saved you all, but Karen made sure that no one will ever know.
Somehow that transitioned to my family and I having been put in this canyon by some conspiracy. Why our little family was chosen was unclear, but nevertheless we couldn't touch the water. It had been poisoned and the entire canyon was laced with a sort of super-effective small pox gas. This is the reason we were trying so desperately to get out. We had reached the end of the canyon; me and my dad had been sent on, because the going was hard. We were only about 20 feet from the rest of the family when we thought we had found salvation. We opened a microwave drawer within the cliff-face only to find boiled zucchini. Said zucchini was apparently the gas in it's purest form and we were henceforth doomed.
Sad life.
So my dad and I, having already been damned, swam over to the rest of the family through a sort of gaseous water that didn't get us wet. Knowing that we were most likely moments from death, having inhaled the zucchini gas, we all huddled together and tried to keep my cousin (who was 6 in this dream) from knowing what was going on. No one wants a little kid to die scared.
But just was we had all settled down to the point of reminiscing about the good times to die in a relatively happy environment, I decided that there was no way in hell that I was going to let my family die in such a pathetic way. So, being that I was already going to die, I began to scale the side of the mountain like MiMiSeeKoo at the beginning of that movie with Tim Allen. Jungle to Jungle?
Much to the surprise of everyone involved, I got to the top and dropped a line down to bring my pathetically shivering family to safety.
Enter Another Scene Shift:
Every one of my closest friends from high school, my family (who had apparently recovered quite well), and I were all at this extremely detailed, if incredibly macabre, theatre where my extremely sexy ENG 200 teacher was doing a one man show involving locking all of the audience members into the theatre and playing out his sick fantasies upon randoms he found in the darkness of the House. There was 16th Century-esque magic involved and it was supremely horrifying. For his final number, he somehow managed to get himself up to the rafters and drop down on the audience wearing an excellently crafted moth suit with a 40 foot wingspan. It was of fuzzy theatre curtain material and when he dropped down on us we were all suffocating. Once again death was imminent.
But my friend Sam and I managed to get free and run from the theatre. I have no clue what happened to the rest of the audience, but being that I didn't get that sickly tingly feeling, I'm assuming they all got out alive. But probably not.
Enter Another Scene Shift:
All my friends who would regularly be at a party were collected at this rundown house. There was graffiti on the external walls and the furniture was the type that you find under a tree in a riverbed.
Something was terribly wrong, but because I was smoking pot/tobacco out of what I remember to be the little baggy thing a tampon comes in (not the tampon, the protective seal) I couldn't focus on what it was. One of my exboyfriends was there and he could tell something was wrong too, but the thing was that only I knew what it was, and I couldn't speak.
Another of my friends was running around showing the world her cooch at this time, just for background info. Everyone else was just... engaged in normal party behavior. But I suppose that's normal party behavior too... Whatever, I digress.
Finally we came to the conclusion that the drugs were laced with a different sort of biological weapon and that we were all doomed.
Once again.
But as is my way, I escaped with a hybrid of three of my good friends and went to find the solution to this epidemic of shit that had become my life.
So the Hybrid and I were attempting to break into this "The Crazies"-esque holding facility, but then a truck came and I dropped to the ground to not be seen. The Hybrid was still behind a wall and couldn't be seen. However, for some reason I was wearing a construction worker's reflective vest, so I was caught in the headlights like a pheasant.
Men were running up to me to shoot me like a dog, but then Hybrid jumped out and told them that she was a photographer that they had hired to distract them. I told them that I was her assistant and they began to lead us inside.
But then Karen texted me in real life and I woke up.
I can only assume that I saved you all, but Karen made sure that no one will ever know.
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