Step by step instructions on how to destroy your body...
Last night I decided to disregard the doc's advice. I took off the boot/splint/support and tied on my real boots, my Doc Martens, then grabbed a bit of cash and took off. This would be Late-night Spencer, the Spencer that is focused on staying up all night if need be. The reason is often irrelevant or mind-bendingly important. This was neither. Ok, maybe it was irrelevant. I was bored and quite sick of the house.
(Oh ho, how that last sentence will be turned into a statement of such pun!)
Destination: Liquor Store
Anyways, I get there and the attendant gives me this "Fight or Flight" look, obviously sizing me up as a potential criminal (because what guy of my age will go out at 2am in all black?) I walk to the back, pick up a Sprite Remix and a Sobe Blizzard, then turn around smugly to throw it on the counter. A local security cop is sitting at one of the coffee tables, reading a newspaper and sipping his cappuccino. These guys are lazy as hell. It's either that or they're paid to find a place to "chill" until someone like Kenny or myself breaks the rules to some dastardly degree, in which case... it's on! Of course, it's never really on. The cop obviously understands size proportions, and that sometimes you just shouldn't go talk to the two guys wearing black, walking around with disintent. Some times you should just get back in your car and drive back to your coffee and newspaper.
Back to the story... the cop gives me a judging look then returns to his previous engagement. I casually drop my drinks on the counter and pick up a stick of beef jerky. Then something else catches my eye, a bar of Twix, king size. Anybody knows that I don't like chocolate. I don't hate it, but I sure as hell will not be eating it in large degrees. Twix is my technicality. Who doesn't love Twix? So, yes, I toss the Twix on the table as well. The walk back to my house was uneventful, besides the raging of Sisters of Mercy through my headphones.
I'm going to fast forward now. Yea, I was online for a while, then I played a level or two of Halo. This is when my body alerted me to the fact that it was growing cold to the land of the alert and cooperative. I popped open my mini-fridge and grabbed the Sprite and Twix bars. I ate about half of the Twix (two of those little bars), and drank all of the Sprite. By the second bar, I had noticed how soft the caramel was. Softer than it usually is, basically just falling apart in my mouth. This intrigued me, because it didn't quite have the taste that I was used to either. Everything about it seemed warped, corrupted by something. Now, my body often knows the difference between life and death, and is able to pinpoint what the offending factor is. In this situation, my mind nagged me over it. So I picked up the Twix package and checked it out. Twix with peanut butter. I didn't even know they had made that. As if to imitate a game show's !!!WINNER!!! buzzer, my throat starting to choke off. At this point, there isn't much I can do. It's all based on how far everything gets. If it's just swallowed, I'm in for a night of swollen throats and retching. If it's digested, it's a difference of sickness for a week or so and a night or two in the hospital. Peanut Butter is not my buddy.
I start flushing my throat with water, trying also to quickly fill my stomach as to induce retch.
It worked, I'm happy to say. The throat is sore today, but last night I was awake until 6am... and it was a lovely memory of love and cringing stomach.
I will probably be seeing The Passion of the Christ today, followed by wacky hijinks in the mall. This is Greg we're talking about, and Greg brings bats and croquet mallets everywhere.
Picked up 1984, Safely Home (Christian fiction, referred), and Floodland (CD).
1984 is already excellent. I had to postpone my other books in favor, mostly due to the convincing synopsis on the back.
Now I am ravenous with hunger. Daylight dampens any real prey, so I'm going to have to opt for Taco Bell.
I would love an injection of caffeine right now.
(Oh ho, how that last sentence will be turned into a statement of such pun!)
Destination: Liquor Store
Anyways, I get there and the attendant gives me this "Fight or Flight" look, obviously sizing me up as a potential criminal (because what guy of my age will go out at 2am in all black?) I walk to the back, pick up a Sprite Remix and a Sobe Blizzard, then turn around smugly to throw it on the counter. A local security cop is sitting at one of the coffee tables, reading a newspaper and sipping his cappuccino. These guys are lazy as hell. It's either that or they're paid to find a place to "chill" until someone like Kenny or myself breaks the rules to some dastardly degree, in which case... it's on! Of course, it's never really on. The cop obviously understands size proportions, and that sometimes you just shouldn't go talk to the two guys wearing black, walking around with disintent. Some times you should just get back in your car and drive back to your coffee and newspaper.
Back to the story... the cop gives me a judging look then returns to his previous engagement. I casually drop my drinks on the counter and pick up a stick of beef jerky. Then something else catches my eye, a bar of Twix, king size. Anybody knows that I don't like chocolate. I don't hate it, but I sure as hell will not be eating it in large degrees. Twix is my technicality. Who doesn't love Twix? So, yes, I toss the Twix on the table as well. The walk back to my house was uneventful, besides the raging of Sisters of Mercy through my headphones.
I'm going to fast forward now. Yea, I was online for a while, then I played a level or two of Halo. This is when my body alerted me to the fact that it was growing cold to the land of the alert and cooperative. I popped open my mini-fridge and grabbed the Sprite and Twix bars. I ate about half of the Twix (two of those little bars), and drank all of the Sprite. By the second bar, I had noticed how soft the caramel was. Softer than it usually is, basically just falling apart in my mouth. This intrigued me, because it didn't quite have the taste that I was used to either. Everything about it seemed warped, corrupted by something. Now, my body often knows the difference between life and death, and is able to pinpoint what the offending factor is. In this situation, my mind nagged me over it. So I picked up the Twix package and checked it out. Twix with peanut butter. I didn't even know they had made that. As if to imitate a game show's !!!WINNER!!! buzzer, my throat starting to choke off. At this point, there isn't much I can do. It's all based on how far everything gets. If it's just swallowed, I'm in for a night of swollen throats and retching. If it's digested, it's a difference of sickness for a week or so and a night or two in the hospital. Peanut Butter is not my buddy.
I start flushing my throat with water, trying also to quickly fill my stomach as to induce retch.
It worked, I'm happy to say. The throat is sore today, but last night I was awake until 6am... and it was a lovely memory of love and cringing stomach.
I will probably be seeing The Passion of the Christ today, followed by wacky hijinks in the mall. This is Greg we're talking about, and Greg brings bats and croquet mallets everywhere.
Picked up 1984, Safely Home (Christian fiction, referred), and Floodland (CD).
1984 is already excellent. I had to postpone my other books in favor, mostly due to the convincing synopsis on the back.
Now I am ravenous with hunger. Daylight dampens any real prey, so I'm going to have to opt for Taco Bell.
I would love an injection of caffeine right now.