last night

i was a man. i was a man in trouble. a fugitive actually.

i escaped arrest by kicking some serious trash, skittering up the most intense gym rope, flying trapeze style to be beyond reach, sonic the hedgehogging it out of the surrounded warehouse and convincing some respectable citizens i was just a normal guy in need of a restroom. all of their sinks were filled with soil and corn seeds. i couldn't properly wash the soap off my hands.

and then as the authorities were knocking on the door i woke up to too much mucus leaking down my throat. so gross.

yesterday

my urine smelled like hot pocket.

good sign?

also i feel oinky. i wish it were in the sexy miss piggy kind of way.

"crap.

he's got the spock eyebrows."

nikolais is freaky

and so cool.

byu's music was way better. and i dislike the cinematography. but. when i go to heaven i will be in carl flink's company.

really?

who invented 7am class?

oh YOU did?

stand up please.

turn around.

yes.

now bend over.

*WHABAM!*

you deserved it.

uhh yeah

my shampoo and conditioner ran out on the very same day. i keep thinking about it. has that EVER happened before? it definitely hasn't happened in my presence. it's kind of incredible. the levels can appear to be going down comparably. but there is always a huge discrepancy between the last dribbles out of one and the last dribbles out of the other. nope. last possible hair wash and condition not only on the same day -- the very same shower. incredible.

i love my grampa!

'no one's getting married these days. except for the homosexuals.'

i really do love him.

these are my relations

i look from my cousin to my grampa and back to cousin.

she has rice stuck to her arm and he has beans splashed twice on his shirt.

pay attention. stop staring.

we go to get milk shakes. she pulls the door open. yep. rice still stuck. glance at grampa. 'grampa i'll wash your shirt for you. i'll even iron it.' 'what's the matter with my shirt? oh, nothing ice won't fix!' (to milk shake boy) 'i'd like a piece of ice please.' 'anything else?!'

scrubs rapidly at spots. sheesh. look at cousin. she flashes her biggest cheese. major cilantro in-between her teeth. i can't take this. 'grampa, please promise me you won't wear that shirt again. it's too hot for long sleeves anyway.' 'look. tell me where i spilled. you can't even see it.' 'there and there.' scrubs again.

these are my relations. i adore them.

over malts and shakes grampa tells us about his cousin who was on broadway who drank herself to death and the husband who wrote hit songs preceded her in the same fashion. this woman's child went on to marry a religious man who frequently knew women in the congregation resulting in frequent relocations. their children were scarred-- one changing sex and name, now, Ginger (pronounced gingah) and the other drugged himself down. broadway's sister married a crazy that wanted to live out in the nowhere and have animals and farm. they moved right next to an indian reservation. two of their children grew up to marry neighbor indians who tried to take out the family members and are now in prison.

i thought grampa was an only child and orphaned.

he concluded by saying,

'and those are your relations.

this is why you have a moral compass and don't drink do drugs or marry indians, even though i am a quite handsome one-eighth cherokee.'

that makes me one-thirty-second??

on a different note, today at work i felt a sneeze coming on. so naturally i ducked. naturally. and when i sneezed my head shot up and hit the corner of the counter.

all i could think about after was that actress who crashed skiing suffering head trauma, didn't seek help cause she felt fine, and then died.

i love you all.

when?

log: left ring finger smashed in swinging door, malicious paper cut right pinkie, and another one i can't remember.

i had something to write here too. dang my memory's shot.

"women's check wine one; limens wine one."

fresh air scent.

really?

watch this

amazingness

1:01-1:03

some like it in the pot nine days old.

i got sunburned today. but only one area of my body. i'll leave it there.

also. i ate a month old corndog i found in the fridge. i was so hungry and it was all there was to eat. logically, it's still okay, right? batter and hotdog shouldn't really spoil that quickly-- so heavily processed. i'm sure it's fine.

but the hypochondriac inside me is having a heyday. every churn of digestion is a precursor to the self-loathing night that will be spent anguishing over food poisoning. the prospect of getting sick is making me sick.

i need to develop self-discipline. veggies and whole grains from here on out.

goodnight. hopefully.

wound log

june 5: wood shelf on metatarsal

tbd

L's seen this. 

eye laik et.

well..

maybe it is still funny.

what's the difference? they're so whiny.

today was interesting.

-i reconnected with several unexpected people. 3 from paraguay, 1 moved and 1 relation. all encounters really enjoyable. i should initiate more reconnections.

-i contemplated creating a wound record this morning. i thought it such a great idea to start writing down what injuries i incur, where, and how. it could have one of two outcomes: 1 i would either start noticing when i klutz into things and be able to account for cuts and bruises, or 2 i would become more aware of my klutzing into things and reduce the quantity of cuts and bruises. i am content with either outcome. 

-i promptly stumbled while trying to dance in front of the mirror, fell amongst the abounding clutter in my room and split my pinkie toe open on L's suitcase. good thing steri-strips and gauze are aplenty and i can fashion a bandage lickety-split.

-i am beginning to feel slightly resistant to a steady (maybe solid) diet of fats, sugars and caffeine. not repulsed, but resistant.

-i referenced a movie (the only movie i can attempt to quote, but it counts.)

"ahh! i had immediate sender's remorse. don't get me wrong. it felt really good to say exactly what i wanted to say. but it's like in You've Got Mail. when i finally said exactly what i wanted to, i felt awful."

- i found a genetic defect linking my inability to quote movies to my ancestry. thanks ruthie.

-remember when i posted this? suddenly not as funny as it used to be. still like bacon.

i have a headache

and i just ran into a certain stephen, and let slip i'm reading an Oprah book club book. 

he asked! and yes i told him but it all happened so fast i..  boo.

i told him it's summer and i can read what i want! dangit i told him i want to. 

i pleaded with him not to tell anyone. and he just told me he's not good at that sort of thing.

something we have in common.

so i'm beating him to the punch. hello, i read Oprah books.

i remember how her mom mixed up the name Orpah every time i see it. look how well it worked out. i should probably misspell a twice mentioned bible character for all my future children. it's kind of cool really. so i read oprah. big whoop. she's got bonafide classics on there too! like Anna Karenina! i'll say it for you. touche. 

anyway. i have a headache. which is rare. 

and walking home i saw all the little chickies at the duck pond and giggled silly for like four minutes. i wasn't embarrassed one bit. until i saw stephen. yeah.

purple lights up my life

and our new carpet isn't. sigh.

teenage wisdom

"Life is letdowns. If there aren't letdowns you aren't living."

where do they come up with this stuff?

mothers' day shout out: this one's for you mom. may i be the letdown that allows you life.

cookie says:

You cannot love life until you live the life you love.