The Daily Grind.

3 Feb

Yyyyyyellow. YELLOW, folks. What is up with thee. Fantismal.

For the record, “fantismal” is not a word and never will be. I do what I want.

I am currently stationed in the IMU computer lab, shivering out of my f’ing shoes. I don’t know what they’re doing making this room an ice box, but there’s just no need for it. Did I unknowingly join a large game of Freeze Out? I’m no goldfish: You can’t just freeze me and then thaw me out expecting my heart to beat again. My nipples could cut glass right now; possibly diamond. I would not be angry if someone lit a fire beneath my bum at this point, and I am almost hoping they do.

Today is going swimmingly. It started by not going to the gym and sleeping instead, going to class, actually going to the gym, spending quality time in The House of Aromas where I sucked down Diet Mountain Dew like there was no tomorrow while responsibly reading over lecture notes and answering discussion questions like the diligent student that I pretend to be, then attending creative writing which I have grown to love very much. Aaaand here I am. Cold. All that got me to one place, and that place is “Antarctica.” BRR, Iowa. Brr.

Other things I have going on this week include repeats of the above, and then Laurel Julius Freemyer is coming para la fin de semana. I foresee drunkenness, inappropriate touching, and law-breaking, all of which make for a successful weekend, and more times than not, material for a great note.

I am seriously frozen half-way solid.

I have zero regard for the rules of the road. Not only do I not really fully understand them, but I ignore them on top of it. There is a better-than-average chance that I will be struck and fatally injured by a motor vehicle upon crossing the street at an unauthorized time. Crosswalks and red lights and walk signs just confuse and disorient me, so I walk when I please, and hope that drivers on the road take pity on me and assume I’m retarded, allowing me to pass-go without being run the fack down. Until a tragedy like that occurs, I will continue to go by my own rules.

“It only takes me one drink to get drunk. The problem is, I can never remember if it’s the thirteenth or fourteenth drink.”


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