A Case of the Mondays
It's a little after 10 pm, and I feel like shit. Just fucking tired. And I have work to do which will not get done, or at least not today anyway.
It probably didn't help that my buddy came in from the University of Arkansas on his way to teach a camp at TCU. He and I have known each other for almost ten years, and if there's one thing we've been consistent about, it would be that we both feel the need to pour as much alcohol as possible into our bodies whenever we get together. Sunday was no exception. We started drinking (and I mean drinking heavily . . .) about three in the afternoon and stopped about 1:30 this morning. It's the kind of drinking that always involves some type of cardplay--I couldn't even fathom the number of drinking games I've participated in while hanging out with this drunk fucker.
If I would have been pulled over this morning while on my way to work, it would have not been good. Not that I was swerving or anything of that nature, but my BAC had to be over the limit, even after five hours of sleep. Luckily, everything went fine, though I must admit that I felt like ass. So I start looking around for some headache medicine. As I'm scrounging around in my newly acquired desk (the office more or less officially became mine over the last month or so), I see a medicine bottle.
On a piece of lined notebook paper, someone had written "ADVIL" and affixed it to the bottle using clear Scotch tape. I took a closer look at the actual labeling on the bottle, and I saw that it was for gas relief and PMS. So I wasn't sure if someone was just pulling a practical joke, but the secretary assured me that it was advil. So I took a couple. Oddly enough, my headache never really went away, but I've felt a lot less bitchy since then, so I guess it's a fairly even trade.
On a side note, in case this English thing doesn't really work out, I may start a career writing alternate endings to boring books. Maybe I could be come the "UNAMBIGU-ATOR"--the superhero that removes ridiculous ambiguities in the final passages of texts, a habit that many lesser writers use in their works to compensate for their artistic inadequacies.
Or I may just see if I can find a market for random flow charts.
posted by Jeremy @ 10:15 PM
6 comments
6 Comments:
I'll have a nice tampon bouquet sent to your office later in the week to liven things up.
And you lost at Bus Driver didn't you?
Actually, we didn't even get into Bus Driver. We played Mexican Sweat, Screw the Dealer, Shopping Cart, and a few others.
It was a good time, though I smoked way too much. Perhaps it would be better if I just pull my lungs out, fill them with dirt, and then stick them back inside. That's about what it feels like to breathe right now.
Flow charts are the shit.
Companies use those things quite a bit when faced with a pressing dilemma which needs some serious analysis. This could be quite a promising career.
Then again, a flow chart is really not necessary in that you could figure things out through a simple formula as well.
Take for example where "X" represents a particular circumstance or control, while "Y" represents a certain event or variable.
X + Y = bliss.
X - Y = death.
I prefer the second equation myself.
where y = the chromosome??
And ambiguous endings are not a sign of a lesser author. People who don't appreciate them are lesser readers. Oooooh!
Kidding of course (almost).
J,
Just thought I'd drop in to let you know you're a shitbird.
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