St. Patty-Cake
Well, I haven't exactly written in here for a while. So I really should have a lot to update. I wish I could dismiss this suggestion due to the fact that I am far too busy enjoying my St. Patrick's day, but that would be a lie. I'm at home, listening to music, pretending that I am doing something productive. But since I haven't written in so long, here's something to keep anyone who stumbles upon this pathetic attempt of a journal occupied.
This week is my spring break. It is awful.
One. To start the week off, I had a stomach virus, so I shit my brains out and puked out my entire insides for two days. It was awful. Bet you're glad to know that.
Two. I had this boil on my neck, and since I just ignored it for about 5 days, it got pretty infected, and pretty huge, so I decided to go to the doctor's to see if this lump on my neck and the facts that I couldn't turn my neck and I was having trouble breathing were at all connected. Well, I get to his office and he's like, "Wow, you have a pretty big boil. You're going to have to get it surgically removed as soon as possible." So I'm thinking, alright, a couple more days. Nope. He called a surgeon, and sent me to his office for what I thought was just going to be a consultation. It wasn't for a consultation. The surgeon was very stoic and was said "Take off your coat. Hang it up. Now take off your hat. Hang it up. Now take off your shirt." Instead of telling him he wasn't going to like what he saw, or something witty like "You know, that's only a weekend thing Doc" I simply finished his statement by saying "I'm guessing I hang it up." He nodded without any expression. Just the type of person I want cutting me open. Then he had my lay down and he cut the hell out of my neck. Nay, cut isn't the proper terminology. He absolutely butchered it. At least that is what it felt like. All he put was that little cotton swab of novacain. Nothing else. Damn, that hurt. It was kinda cool though, because he took a syringe full of saline solution to flush everything out, and I could feel him flush it. So now I have a hole in my neck. It looks cool, like I got in a knife fight. I hope it leaves a scar, so I can tell people just that.
Three. It is terrible coming back home living with the parents. Constant questions, constant putdowns. It's frustrating. No matter what I do, I get it wrong, so this week I'm not doing anything to see if that is better. So far it isn't, but damn it feels good to do nothing productive.
As I mentioned, today is St. Patrick's day. I'm doing nothing special at all. I have green shorts on that I've worn for the past couple of days (no one visits me, so I really don't give a damn). I really don't care about St. Patrick's day. I don't really view it as a holiday, it's just another excuse for people to drink themselves stupid. In fact, this year, it is sort of a waste. I mean, it's on a Thursday. College kids always get shitfaced on Thursdays anyway. If anything, they should have moved it from it's traditional March 17th to maybe March 15th. This way here, college kids everywhere can black out for a day, then come back for Thursday and do it all over again. But alas, life does not make sense.
That's my time, I'm out.
This week is my spring break. It is awful.
One. To start the week off, I had a stomach virus, so I shit my brains out and puked out my entire insides for two days. It was awful. Bet you're glad to know that.
Two. I had this boil on my neck, and since I just ignored it for about 5 days, it got pretty infected, and pretty huge, so I decided to go to the doctor's to see if this lump on my neck and the facts that I couldn't turn my neck and I was having trouble breathing were at all connected. Well, I get to his office and he's like, "Wow, you have a pretty big boil. You're going to have to get it surgically removed as soon as possible." So I'm thinking, alright, a couple more days. Nope. He called a surgeon, and sent me to his office for what I thought was just going to be a consultation. It wasn't for a consultation. The surgeon was very stoic and was said "Take off your coat. Hang it up. Now take off your hat. Hang it up. Now take off your shirt." Instead of telling him he wasn't going to like what he saw, or something witty like "You know, that's only a weekend thing Doc" I simply finished his statement by saying "I'm guessing I hang it up." He nodded without any expression. Just the type of person I want cutting me open. Then he had my lay down and he cut the hell out of my neck. Nay, cut isn't the proper terminology. He absolutely butchered it. At least that is what it felt like. All he put was that little cotton swab of novacain. Nothing else. Damn, that hurt. It was kinda cool though, because he took a syringe full of saline solution to flush everything out, and I could feel him flush it. So now I have a hole in my neck. It looks cool, like I got in a knife fight. I hope it leaves a scar, so I can tell people just that.
Three. It is terrible coming back home living with the parents. Constant questions, constant putdowns. It's frustrating. No matter what I do, I get it wrong, so this week I'm not doing anything to see if that is better. So far it isn't, but damn it feels good to do nothing productive.
As I mentioned, today is St. Patrick's day. I'm doing nothing special at all. I have green shorts on that I've worn for the past couple of days (no one visits me, so I really don't give a damn). I really don't care about St. Patrick's day. I don't really view it as a holiday, it's just another excuse for people to drink themselves stupid. In fact, this year, it is sort of a waste. I mean, it's on a Thursday. College kids always get shitfaced on Thursdays anyway. If anything, they should have moved it from it's traditional March 17th to maybe March 15th. This way here, college kids everywhere can black out for a day, then come back for Thursday and do it all over again. But alas, life does not make sense.
That's my time, I'm out.