Saturday, December 03, 2005
You're standing on my neck
So, I've been rather busy here lately and haven't had much time to write stuff. In an effort to continue to write here, I'm just going to include something I wrote the other day. Look for more soon!
Let me begin this post by first discussing the smelliest fool I’ve ever been around. I have found that stereotypes about people who smell bad are simply not true. So that being said, the smelliest white man ever decided to walk past me as I was waiting for my shit to print off. Good god, he stunk so bad. Like mix of body odor, funk, onions, Italian food, and general stankness all rolled up into one human body. I felt bad for the dude sitting next to him. I though that if he sat next to me that I would risk looking like an asshole and move so I’d be able to breathe. Ugh, that fool stunk!
What I love about getting together with old friends is the normal drama (a.k.a. post-get together shit talking) that ensues. However, this past weekend, there was all kinds of drama going down and none of it involved folks being mean or stirring up pots of hypocrisy and bullshit. Which actually went was good, even as much as I love to talk shit! So, in an effort to save money but still have fun, my friends and I decided that we should drink before we go out for one of my friend’s birthday. Good idea in theory, bad idea in action. We kind of didn’t have a few drinks before we went out, we got drunk. Nearly sloppy drunk. Said birthday friend fell over walking into the bar and was immediately kicked out. “Come back in thirty minutes after you get some food.” Who says that!? I don’t think thirty minutes was going to improve the debauchery that was already going down. Shit was still the bomb, even though another friend and I got left at the bar, for at least an hour, while everyone else was taken home. Either somebody forgot about us or figured we were alright. Something, I’m not really sure what happened (and that can be said for a lot that night), but I ended up at home apparently safe and sound. This birthday ranks up there with my birthday, and you know that was the party of the year (for those who do not attend parties thrown by Puff). So all is good in the world.
I would include more details, but I want to spare everyone (and myself) the embarrassment. Plus, most folks who read this know what went down anyway, so no need to rehash it all!
I have realized that I think I subconsciously enjoy having lots of paper around me. And by this, I don’t mean money. I mean like notebook paper, post-it paper, receipts, old forms I filled out but never turned it—all kinds of damn paper. What is this about? I can’t seem to shake the damn paper trail I leave. There’s paper in the bottom of my bookbag, the bottoms of my pockets. It’s everywhere! Also, this going along kind of (in a sick, sad world…Daria, haha) way, I have lots of nickels that also follow me around. I am sure I have dollars and dollars of nickels. Why not cool change like quarters or dimes? Or even fifty-cent pieces? Just nickels. I suppose this is better than being harassed by pennies, cause who really uses those?
Also, today I thought it would be a smart idea to run down the stairs to meet the pizza guy. Turns out, my moccasins don't have much traction and I slid on the cement and landed on the left side of my body. It hurt like hell, but I couldn't help but laugh, which I did while I grimaced in pain! And then later, I was walking down the stairs and my left knee now hurts! Anyone seen "The Jacksons: American Dream"? Well, Mom Jackson had this funky-like wobble or stagger or that word, um, limp! I feel like that's what I look like. Hopefully it'll be all good tomorrow. ¶ 6:49 PM
Let me begin this post by first discussing the smelliest fool I’ve ever been around. I have found that stereotypes about people who smell bad are simply not true. So that being said, the smelliest white man ever decided to walk past me as I was waiting for my shit to print off. Good god, he stunk so bad. Like mix of body odor, funk, onions, Italian food, and general stankness all rolled up into one human body. I felt bad for the dude sitting next to him. I though that if he sat next to me that I would risk looking like an asshole and move so I’d be able to breathe. Ugh, that fool stunk!
What I love about getting together with old friends is the normal drama (a.k.a. post-get together shit talking) that ensues. However, this past weekend, there was all kinds of drama going down and none of it involved folks being mean or stirring up pots of hypocrisy and bullshit. Which actually went was good, even as much as I love to talk shit! So, in an effort to save money but still have fun, my friends and I decided that we should drink before we go out for one of my friend’s birthday. Good idea in theory, bad idea in action. We kind of didn’t have a few drinks before we went out, we got drunk. Nearly sloppy drunk. Said birthday friend fell over walking into the bar and was immediately kicked out. “Come back in thirty minutes after you get some food.” Who says that!? I don’t think thirty minutes was going to improve the debauchery that was already going down. Shit was still the bomb, even though another friend and I got left at the bar, for at least an hour, while everyone else was taken home. Either somebody forgot about us or figured we were alright. Something, I’m not really sure what happened (and that can be said for a lot that night), but I ended up at home apparently safe and sound. This birthday ranks up there with my birthday, and you know that was the party of the year (for those who do not attend parties thrown by Puff). So all is good in the world.
I would include more details, but I want to spare everyone (and myself) the embarrassment. Plus, most folks who read this know what went down anyway, so no need to rehash it all!
I have realized that I think I subconsciously enjoy having lots of paper around me. And by this, I don’t mean money. I mean like notebook paper, post-it paper, receipts, old forms I filled out but never turned it—all kinds of damn paper. What is this about? I can’t seem to shake the damn paper trail I leave. There’s paper in the bottom of my bookbag, the bottoms of my pockets. It’s everywhere! Also, this going along kind of (in a sick, sad world…Daria, haha) way, I have lots of nickels that also follow me around. I am sure I have dollars and dollars of nickels. Why not cool change like quarters or dimes? Or even fifty-cent pieces? Just nickels. I suppose this is better than being harassed by pennies, cause who really uses those?
Also, today I thought it would be a smart idea to run down the stairs to meet the pizza guy. Turns out, my moccasins don't have much traction and I slid on the cement and landed on the left side of my body. It hurt like hell, but I couldn't help but laugh, which I did while I grimaced in pain! And then later, I was walking down the stairs and my left knee now hurts! Anyone seen "The Jacksons: American Dream"? Well, Mom Jackson had this funky-like wobble or stagger or that word, um, limp! I feel like that's what I look like. Hopefully it'll be all good tomorrow. ¶ 6:49 PM
