Sunday, January 31, 2010

When the Deal Goes Down

A few weeks ago I drove (and drove and drove) to the edge of the planet, also known as north-western Peoria. I came to the outskirts of human civilization where they have no streetlights, on an adventure, or several adventures rolled into one. Adventure One: Purchase something on Craigslist. Is this a good way to get murdered? Yes.

The murderer named "Angel" had an overhead projector and I needed it for Adventure Three (Adventure Two was driving to the land of the lost, where traffic sometimes goes in and doesn't come out). Angel, the murderer, turned out to be quite friendly. His children were delightful.

Harris (the projector) and I, having made friends during our homeward odyssey, arrived home all fired up to undertake Adventure Three: build a little studio in my garage so that I can start DRAWING AGAIN! Yesss. I gave up all arty pursuits when I gave up being an art major, but the time had come for Sam and her graphite pencil to reunite and take the garage by storm with creativity and over-head-projection-cheating.

I'm pretty excited about my new little hobby, especially now that I'm not being graded on it. I'll post my projects on my brand new little blog. I haven't any finished ones yet, so here is a picture of my "studio," notice Harris smiling like dork in the corner.


Sunday, January 10, 2010

I swallowed a bee.

I did it by accident, but I suspect that what the bee did was intentional because it didn't get mad and sting me the way a rational bee would have, finding that its life was going to end thus, humiliatingly. Bee just tucked his little wings and plunged on, unto the stomachy grave, or what I assume was the first stupidly open mouth he came across after making up his bee mind to see what was down those.

I'm sorry that your adventure ended this way, bee. If you've stung my stomach, I don't know about it.


Saturday, January 9, 2010

A Tupperware analogy

Whatever, you knew this would happen. Let's just acknowledge that fact and move on with our weblogs.

I have a cold. No, let me start again: I have been prideful and thus stricken down in the prime of my life with the disease that will cause my untimely death. Here is what happened: I caught this cold and then the cold went away, and I was all "HAHAA, young and spritely immune system, we have defeated illness once again! It must be because we're superior to other humans who are susceptible to the "cold" germs in their weakness..." etc. And then my immune system dumped me, having strung me along until I was all committed and stuff. My antibodies were like "sucker," and then then they flung me into the clutches of sore-throatdom, where my life will slowly drip away out the holes of my nose (you're welcome).

I guess I got what I deserved. So, having gambled my youth away on delusions of immortality, I now attempt to atone for my wasteful ways by writing dramatic retellings of events in my life, sometimes known as blogging. Also because I suddenly have a lot of time on my hands and what better way to use it than to gross out you people with snot stories?

I can't make any promises - we already know about my fickle attention span (it was probably the one who recruited my immune system to it's club of Sam's functions that fail her completely) but I'm going to do my best. Maybe we shouldn't get our hopes up. For now though, in an effort to appease the gremlins of wrath, I plan to use what little time I have left on this earth whining pathetically on the internet. Because a wasted terminal illness is a wasted life (lesson).

PS. I realize that I didn't actually address the Tupperware issue because I got carried away with talking about the coming of death, but I'll get to it sometime because I think it's a good one.