The ramblings of a man who has used his brain too much lately

I wish i still lived in Lister. I've done too many midterms. My brain is fried and I'm feeling stupid (not unintelligent, but that I could go for some unintelligent things right now). I could totally go for some lounge sports, or something equally dumb like elevator twister.

This long stretch of school-related activity explains my recent leave of absence.
I have class in forty minutes, but the bus just drove away so I'll write for a while before i drive there.

I have never been so upset whilst grocery shopping as I was the other day. This old dude was in the produce looking for carrots, so I waited patiently behind him. Then I got sick of waiting and went alongside him to reach for my own vegetables, only to see him fingering through ALL OF THE CARROTS SUPERSTORE HAS TO OFFER. So that was gross.

The grossest part is, 5 minutes later i saw him at the other end of the produce. I peeked in his basket and HE DIDN'T EVEN BUY ANY FUCKING CARROTS. (this is far more entertaining if you pictured me acting out my story. i talk with my hands, and blame my ancestors for this) There is a lesson here somewhere. I think it is "wash your vegetables".

*le sigh*

on a happy note, i'm T minus 10 days from another karate tournament. and to understand the mindset that 47 consecutive midterms put me in, just listen to "War" by the Sick Puppies. Get ready Hank. This time I'm bringing the pain.

ps. night class sucks.

So this is what the PLAGUE felt like

My head hurts. My throat is sore and I'm stuffed up. There is only one possible explanation:

I'm dying.

*tear

In the event of my demise, my lawyer and I have arranged a fight to the death for my things. This will be done PA-style. (All of my stuff will be placed on my lawn and on the signal, anything goes in a last-man-standing/make it out alive event that will be shown on PPV. Those of you with looting experience have the edge)

I kid. But seriously, I worry. I don't want to walk into Calgary next weekend, get punched in the nose and splatter mucus all over the place. That'd be pretty rank.

I'm willing to try anything. When I woke up I took my normal swineless-flu procedure: I wandered up the stairs in a haze, put the advil on my tongue and washed it down with a shot of Buckley's. This seemed to work, as I feel a little better. Although I think this may be purely psychological. My taste buds fear another round of Buckley's so they trick my brain into thinking I feel better.

I should be in the shower right now: that is part of standard procedure, but I felt the need to share this morning's experience with all (4) of you. I enjoy the thought that the events of my life make you laugh or cry.

Come to think about it, there has been a reoccurring theme I've noticed lately. Old people in the grocery store try to help me. This started at Costco a few weeks ago when I picked up a bottle of Chili sauce. It had no sooner touched the cart than I heard an older lady tell me "that's really good; you'll like that."

Then, Tuesday I was at Superstore. I was scurrying through the produce eyeing up what I still needed to find (which was jalapenos, btw) when this old guy says "you'd better follow that list closely". I explained to him that I wrote the list, and I could probably forgive myself for forgetting something. (I was wrong, and am going back in a few minutes. le sigh.)

I've decided on two possible options: either my life looks so magnificent from the outside that people comment just to be a part of it, or my life appears so sad that random old people try to help me just to fill their good samaritan points.

But I'm off topic. Right now I'm open to any sort of voodoo spell/gypsy un-curse/desperate housewife cure for swineless flu-aid. I really don't want to enter next weekend a gross, mucusy bomb that nobody wants to be near. I suppose I could just not get punched in the nose.

Plan B will be leading with my chin.