Hum-bugs and Whistl-insects
I love waking up way before I need to be on mornings when it's raining. Especially when the window is open so there's that rainy chill in my room. Then when I run up from going to the bathroom or getting my water or whatever reason I woke up, I pile the blankets on and curl up until I'm warm and listen to the drizzle in the pre-sunrise darkness where it's never really dark, everything outside is just washed in rainy blue shades. It's so comfortable it actually takes a while to fall back asleep...
But. Now I'm awake. It stopped raining and it's just chilly so I'm rocking the pedo-track jacket. Coffee is number one on the agenda. Fucking 10 am!? NOOO. Right. Coffee. T-Minus 2 'til deli. Brb, lovely readers.
She is brewing. Yay! So anyway, a nipplefuck after I wake up this morning (for those of you not following the metric system, a nipplefuck is a very small increment of time) I get a phone call from my gran'momma-dukes. See, for some reason my uncle decided to request me specifically by name to pick him up at the airport today. He went on some kooky vacation somewhere like he always does because he's apparently loaded or something. Well originally before he left he wanted me to drop him off but I couldn't because I had work. Well in his steadfast determination to have me be his personal escort, he convinced my parents that "yeah! it's your responsibility!"
Never mind of course the fact that I had plans for tonight. No my idea of a perfect Saturday night definitely isn't slumb0r-party phun timez, no it's driving in the rain on highways at night and through crowded airport terminal parking in white knuckled terror, panicking as taxies whiz past me and luggage spews into the street launched by automated airline robots programed to find missing bags, frisk suspicious individuals, and exterminate Alex Beekman.
The kicker was that when he asked nobody even had a clue which flight he was going to be on, hell much less which airport he'd be flying into. I didn't even know when I went to sleep last night. So right, back to waking up. Slightly before grandma called, I'd say less than half a nipplefuck, I noticed his flight information scrawled on a piece of paper next to the phone. I guess he had called before I woke up at some point and talked to my mom. "Flight 131, 7:45 pm. Gay. Well, I mean at least it isn't 10 or something right?"
*Ring*
*Ringle*
*Jingle*
Grandma fills me in on the latest: Flight 131 is cancelled. Once again we're in the dark as to when he's coming in. He'll just call when he gets to JFK. AWESOME. We can't even get a head start now and for all we know he'll be in at 11:30... tomorrow. And I have to be on the ready for his call at all times. GREAT. SRTUPENDOUS. I should just leave taxi money on the table and not come home after work. This is ridiculous.
Well, I'm gonna go do morning-type things for the hour and 20 minutes left before I go in and lather myself up with cheeses and meats and throw myself into a throng of the elderly with an appetite like the undead plague. Oh! Next update I'll tell you all about the game of the century.
Remember Don't Break the Ice?
What about Mr. Mouth?
Oh man you're in for a treat. Sheeshee-shwhy,
Lex
But. Now I'm awake. It stopped raining and it's just chilly so I'm rocking the pedo-track jacket. Coffee is number one on the agenda. Fucking 10 am!? NOOO. Right. Coffee. T-Minus 2 'til deli. Brb, lovely readers.
She is brewing. Yay! So anyway, a nipplefuck after I wake up this morning (for those of you not following the metric system, a nipplefuck is a very small increment of time) I get a phone call from my gran'momma-dukes. See, for some reason my uncle decided to request me specifically by name to pick him up at the airport today. He went on some kooky vacation somewhere like he always does because he's apparently loaded or something. Well originally before he left he wanted me to drop him off but I couldn't because I had work. Well in his steadfast determination to have me be his personal escort, he convinced my parents that "yeah! it's your responsibility!"
Never mind of course the fact that I had plans for tonight. No my idea of a perfect Saturday night definitely isn't slumb0r-party phun timez, no it's driving in the rain on highways at night and through crowded airport terminal parking in white knuckled terror, panicking as taxies whiz past me and luggage spews into the street launched by automated airline robots programed to find missing bags, frisk suspicious individuals, and exterminate Alex Beekman.
The kicker was that when he asked nobody even had a clue which flight he was going to be on, hell much less which airport he'd be flying into. I didn't even know when I went to sleep last night. So right, back to waking up. Slightly before grandma called, I'd say less than half a nipplefuck, I noticed his flight information scrawled on a piece of paper next to the phone. I guess he had called before I woke up at some point and talked to my mom. "Flight 131, 7:45 pm. Gay. Well, I mean at least it isn't 10 or something right?"
*Ring*
*Ringle*
*Jingle*
Grandma fills me in on the latest: Flight 131 is cancelled. Once again we're in the dark as to when he's coming in. He'll just call when he gets to JFK. AWESOME. We can't even get a head start now and for all we know he'll be in at 11:30... tomorrow. And I have to be on the ready for his call at all times. GREAT. SRTUPENDOUS. I should just leave taxi money on the table and not come home after work. This is ridiculous.
Well, I'm gonna go do morning-type things for the hour and 20 minutes left before I go in and lather myself up with cheeses and meats and throw myself into a throng of the elderly with an appetite like the undead plague. Oh! Next update I'll tell you all about the game of the century.
Remember Don't Break the Ice?
What about Mr. Mouth?
Oh man you're in for a treat. Sheeshee-shwhy,
Lex