Stop, Drop, & Roll.

3 Feb

Well hello there companionites. What’s a-goin on-ah? Not that I care. Anyway, I just returned from the mall con mi amiga Amy. You know, got some stuff, befriended some Orientals, ate some rice, the usual.

My day began at 3:30 a.m. this morning actually where I believe 98% of you Mayflower folk joined me outside in an experiment to see how long you can survive in subzero temperatures before your body temperature drops low enough to kill a man (the other 2% ingeniously evaded the alarm by remaining locked in your room by either a. being unconscious or b. pretending not to hear it). If you’re not deaf and/or blind, you may have experienced the shrill ringing of our friend the fire alarm at this godforsaken hour. While I opted to remain cozy in my bed and ignore the drill, Amy insisted we go, so I reluctantly stormed out of my room like an angry grizzly bear awoken from a slumber with the other 600 half-unconscious students in the dorm. This drill wouldn’t have been so agravating if it wasn’t such an ungodly hour, the air temperature hadn’t reached absolute zero last night and we weren’t out there for nine years, but unfortunately it was an ungodly hour, the air temperature had reached absolute zero and we were out there for nine years.

Anyway, here we all were, huddled together in the arctic climate like a herd of cattle clad in nothing but what we were sleeping in, which unless you live in a tipi in Alaska was NOT a fox fur parka and/or mukluks including ski mask and leather gloves. We were freaking cold. To make the situation more annoying, those fags with the glowing cones were REALLY enjoying their position of mediocre power and insignificant purpose. I hate people that take their meaningless jobs seriously (see bus drivers, mall security, meter men, etc.). They make me want to punch kittens. As if THAT wasn’t enough, this was my second fire drill that day. Do people not realize that we KNOW what to do in case of a fire?? We’ve been practicing since the first grade, drawing little diagrams of our fire escape plan in our houses with crayons, writing lists of the three things we would take with us to save from the fire, practicing stop, drop & roll and all that noise–we get it. I know what to do in the event of a firey blaze–get out of the fire. I don’t need any more practice. Leave me alone.

So we’re losing fingers and toes to frost bite and my snot is crystalizing in my nostrils while the fire fighters are moseying into the building like it’s a stroll in the park to check out what was either a false alarm or some retard burning a bag of popcorn and therefore setting the fire alarm off, putting the rest of us in a life-threatening position in the blistering cold of the great outdoors. P.S. If indeed the alarm was set off because some drunk retard thought it was funny, I WILL track this person down and sock them in the stomach multiple times and NOT apologize. Karma sucks. Moving on.

Last time I checked, it didn’t take 40 plus minutes to discover if there is a roaring fire engulfing a building. I’m pretty sure it would have been quite obvious if our dorm was going up in flames like the Twin Towers. For whatever reason, they dilly dallied inside for FORTY minutes. I really don’t know why we didn’t all just charge into the building and run the cone-holders over. What were they gonna do, tazer us? Finally we see some fire fighters strolling out of the building at a leisurely pace, and everyone starts stampeding toward the door. Of course the cone-folk yelled, “COME BACK!” causing the crowd to pause momentarily and then continue to rush inside like a frightened herd of angry rhinoceri. It was intense. People probably lost limbs and lives in that fiasco. It was just a retarded situation.

All in all, I went to bed at 2:30, was awoken by the worthless alarm at 3:30, remained in the frigid ice til 4:10 only to get up for class at 8. My night was less than pleasant.

…that is all.

“I would actually rather BE on fire right now.”


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