The Escapist

First day into work all week with the exception of a futile attempt to stay upright at my desk on Monday. That lasted 45 minutes before I couldn’t see straight.

I’m worrying my co-workers with my convulsive hacking cough. At least I’m not coughing up blood like I was this morning.

My arms and legs are tingly and feel like heat waves are radiating from them. My eyeballs are doing this neat pulsing thing and I can feel tiny gnome standing on my back jabbing me with sporks.

I’m tempted to cancel all my Thanksgiving insane-making-plans and just spend the next 4 days in bed trying not to die. I infected Lisa with the Space Sickness as well and while she’s (for once) being pragmatic about me getting her sick, I occasionally want to point at her and crow, “YOU SEE? YOUR SILLY FLU SHOT IS BUNK! BUNK I TELL YOU! BUNK!”

But If I did that, she’d kick my ass.

Man. What an overwhelming amount of attention. I feel like the belle of the ball.

Well, all three of you want me to be funny, so…. how about this:

Zune Paint

I know you are out there reading this thing. I can see you. You’re sitting there in your underwear smoking Pall Malls and using the tweezers to pluck the hairs off that mole.

Are you wanting me to be funny here? Serious? do you want reposting of all the political news I compulsively read? What?

What will make you give me the feedback I so desperately crave?

I feel like I’m stretched very thin.

I’m not sure why I feel that way; it’s not like I do much of anything. Work is still work. Mind numbing and generally feeling like a crappy way to make a buck, but they’re pretty good about giving me time off when I need it for school.

School’s a different matter. I’ve been in college for over two years now, and I’m getting tired of it all. That’s really not a good attitude to have, but what-cha-gonna-do? I’m only taking 3 classes this semester and it feels like I never have any time where I don’t have an assignment due, or test coming up. It’s aggrivating.

After school and work, I’m exhausted, and after Lisa’s full day at work and 2 hour commute, she’s even more tired than I am. She gets home around 7:30 most nights, and if I’m lucky, she’ll stay awake until 11:30. Aside from weekends, I average about 4 hours a day of awake-time with my girlfriend. And that really sucks.

***

Wow. What a whiny little shit I am. On to something fucked up.

Last night I had a dream that I was positive was really happening at the time. It didn’t feel like a dream, you understand. I was doing my Japanese homework (I had actually fallen asleep on the worksheet I was filling out and my drool ruined 4 answers.) and suddenly I really needed to piss. I don’t mean “man, it would be a good idea to empty my bladder soon” sort of need. I mean “Oh god! my crotch! It burns with the fullness of eternal suffering and awkward yoga positions!” sort of need.

Sp I run to the bathroom, barely in time, and proceed to urinate like my life depended on having a panel of judges score my arc on it’s asthetic value. But wait. It gets weird(er)! I can’t stop. I just keep pissing, and needing to flush the toilet every two minutes to keep the bowl from over flowing. After two hours of this, I still can’t stop, and my groin is burning like I’ve gotten 38 previously undiscovered STDs all stabbing me in the junk with pitchforks. The pain is so bad that my knees are buckling, and I start to back away from the toilet, still pissing, working harder to keep my aim centered on the bowl. I make it out of the bathroom and I’m pissing around a corner because that’s just how shit works in dreams. I backup all the way to where my cell phone is pugged into the wall. It’s been hours and I still can’t stop urinating. The stream of piss is hurling itself along almost completely unaided by me at this point, and I need to call 911. I want the Fire Department to come over and use one of those giant wrenches to turn off the flow going to my dick. I pick up the phone, and then I wake up. I’m holding my cell phone and it’s alarm is going off.

Like I said; fucked up, huh?

Ever since I upgraded to Wordpress 2.6 I’ve been getting a ton of comment and trackback spam.

It’s enough to make me want to set a hobo on fire.

Does anyone else have this problem? Not the burning hobo thing, the assloads of spam.

On the first Tuesday, after the first Monday, of the month of November, four years ago, I made a blog post.

The post contained one word. The word was “fuck.” And I repeated that word six hundred and sixty five times. Because, while Bush isn’t the Anti-Christ, he probably lives across the street from him.

And now tonight, after watching Barak Obama become our country’s President-Elect, I keep catching myself smiling slightly. We finally corrected our nation’s fuck-up from eight years ago.

I think I’ll just sit here quietly and polish off this bottle of Johnny Walker.

Goodnight, children.

I voted two weeks ago; I’m done.

But I’ve been compulsively checking news sites since midnight last night, terrified that I might miss some vital piece of information that I can then… do absolutely nothing with.

Fuck.

Every damn time. My brain meats begin swirling out of control some time on the first Monday of November every other year. It’s a sickness. But I’ve learned how to control it. I need enough caffiene to make me feel normal (“Normal” is a relative term given how horribly I abuse caffiene. I normally drink 2-3 pots of coffee a day. My kidneys will need to be replaced again in about a year at this rate. I suppose I should start checking around for cheap tickets to Tijuana again), and enough booze to keep me from climbing the walls with every announcement that a race can be called for a Republican.