It's a cold morning...
....and I can't feel my fingers. Somehow it seems as though they already know their way, I appreciate that about them.
Its early here, I've been up for almost one hour, and now I can't get back to sleep. Since I woke up, I have been in gut wrenching pain, pulled over, and my car eventually blew up. An eventful morning by most standards.
It all started with a fight.
UFC match-up: Sylva and Cote, whoever the hell they are. Sometimes I wonder about the human race as a species- wonder, and worry. I'm sure some animals out there enjoy fighting each other, so it would be presumptuous of me to assume otherwise, but there is a sort of sickness to it that makes me wonder if we were an accident. Regardless, I'm not going to get into that now... after all its early yet.
I've only been drinking for six months on and off, but I've been legally ABLE for two years.
I was at a bar with my 'posse' if you want to call it that, watching men beat the shit out of each other for money and recognition. We had a few drinks and stuck around until the fight we paid cover for came on. By then I was tipsy, so I was feeling the appeal of it all. Its nice to feel powerful without having to flex technological muscles. Sure, any one of those guys could knock me out cold in a single swing, but the fact that I could be like them, that any of us could with a little work and guts... I believe it was round 3 when Cote forfitted because of a leg cramp. It was funny, hearing all of the people in the bar crying out in unified disappointment. At least they only paid five bucks to watch it at a bar, and not fifteen to watch it at home.
We went to a liquor store afterwords, then Walmart, then the Jack in the Box that my ex works at. I was sitting in the back passenger side seat, my roommate sitting next to me. I didn't get anything, Jack in the Box food disgusts me after smelling it in my house constantly for a year. I suppose its better than cat urine, or dirty children, but it still isn't a good smell.
'What's this? Is that... deep-frier I smell on your couch?' Probably...
We made drinks at my friend's house, watched a few movies. Superbad is funny as hell. I used to hate it, but it seems like every time I see it now it gets funnier. I wonder why that is? Most jokes are only funny the first time you hear them...
There were five of us when we all decided to go to bed. My roommate decided to sleep in a reclined chair, and I had the couch with our other friend. Iron chef was on when we all started to drift off to sleep. The secret ingredient was cheddar cheese.
It was around thirty minutes later the pain started, when I noticed my sleeping space was reduced to one cushion. It'd probably be helpful if I mentioned the back injury that I obtained from work a year and a half ago. One or two herniated discs.. and a pinched nerve, or at least that was what I was told it COULD be before my claim was denied. Regardless, I occasionally lose feeling in my legs, and can't get out of bed without some struggle in the morning.
I've been told that constant pain leads to clinical depression...
I don't think I really slept, just drifted in and out of consciousness, having random dreams about the cooking infomercials that were playing on the TV. I'm glad I don't remember them. I remember a lot of my dreams, maybe more than I should.
I limped over to my roommate finally after being awake for a solid hour or so. My phone died at some point, so I had no idea what time it was. I was informed soon after that it was five in the morning, which was a shame because it was still dark. I HAD to leave though.
We walked out into the freezing morning and wiped the windows off with our bare hands. A bad idea, we soon found out, with no heat in the car. I started my car up. Can't see out the windows, or through the rear view. I turned the air to heat, and defrost. Headlights-check, emergency flashers-check. The nice thing about early morning is that no one is around to see you limp your way home, except the police of course. Lets not forget about them.
My car burnt a fuse a month or so back. My dash lights don't work, and neither do any of the lights in the back, so I literally have a driving curfew. Not only that, but my car is very.. temper-mental. Earlier that day my roommate put water in it.. and it promptly sprayed it all out the overflow valve when it had sufficiently heated up.
So there we were, driving down the road in the dark. No lights in the back, no visibility out my mirrors or windows, no contacts in my eyes, and no water in my radiator. 'It's God's day,' my old manager used to say when we asked her to cover a shift on Sunday's, 'and no one should have to work on God's day!.' Funny how it only applied to her.
I noticed the headlights up my ass when I was only three minutes from home, then the good ol' red and blue's. Fuck. Looks like SOMEONE is working on God's day. I let out the usual string of profanities as I pull my car over to the side of the road, shutting it off just as the spotlight blinds me from my rear-view. I get out the usual, but I have to force my window down because its so cold outside.
The officer tells me what I already know. I don't have to explain why I have my flashers on, because he tells me why. And suddenly I am wondering why the hell he bothered to pull me over if he's so damn smart? I know what you're thinking- typical person, typically hating cops for doing their job. Don't get me wrong, I know why we have law enforcement, my own stepfather is a cop. I have had police help me when I have needed help, and I am thankful for it- but something about being awake at five in the morning with no sleep, no lights, no water in my radiator and no patience left on my last nerve had left me a little frazzled. Not to mention the pain shooting down my legs, I suppose that had a hand in it.
He takes my ID, I explain to him my situation. 'Yes officer I wouldn't normally be driving my car like this, but I have a back problem and I needed to go home BADLY..' He shines his flashlight in my eyes, his face filled with scrutiny like he has heard it all before, like every crack smuggling illegal immigrant has used the old 'I'm sorry I'm driving around with ten pounds of crack in my backseat officer, but my back is really killing me!' excuse. I ask you, if I was a criminal, or had stolen my car, or had drugs.. would I really be driving through town, at five am on a Sunday with my emergency flashers on? If you're playing hide and seek do you stand out in the open screaming 'I'm over here! I sure hope no one finds me!'? I felt like I might as well have a dead hooker and a meth lab in my backseat. He obviously isn't buying my back story, or maybe its too early to care. He shines his light in at my roommate, asks for a name, then ID, takes one brief look at the ID, and gives it back. I find myself briefly wondering about protocol.
He gives me back my information, and informs me that I should avoid driving my car at night. I tell him that I understand, and that I wouldn't have but it was prudent that I get home. He puffs up, like a rooster getting ready to crow, and repeats himself, adding, '..eventually these warnings are going to turn into tickets...' I can't remember if I said anything in response, or just thanked him for his advise.. warning.. whatever it was. When I go to turn on my car it won't start.
I try it again.. nothing, it doesn't even try to turn over. I turn off my flashers and wait.
About three weeks ago my roommate replaced my battery. I had gone to Colorado to visit a friend of mine, and apparently my car doesn't just save up all of its anitics for my personal amusement.
I try it again- success! I turn on my flashers and continue on my way. The officer that pulled me over was talking to a man that just appeared out of the darkness. I'm not sure what they were talking about, but I noted mentally that being a cop would strain my nerves.
My roommate and I fume about the last few minutes with all the fury of two elderly people ranting about the happenings in their rest home. We finally get home, about three minutes later. I look down at my gauge as we drive under a light just in time to notice that my temp gadge is at H, and that's when I smell the burning. It makes it into my parking spot and we get out. I lock my door, briefly mentioning that I might as well not even bother, and if someone can manage to steal my car they can have it, along with all of its problems.
Finally home, and finally done with my story.
I know there are spelling and grammar errors...but I am too tired to correct them. In some way I think it adds personality, you can tell a lot from a person by the way they improvise word spellings and punctuation.
It is now seven am, still dark, and I am tired. Hopefully the rest of God's day proves to be a little less eventful.
Its early here, I've been up for almost one hour, and now I can't get back to sleep. Since I woke up, I have been in gut wrenching pain, pulled over, and my car eventually blew up. An eventful morning by most standards.
It all started with a fight.
UFC match-up: Sylva and Cote, whoever the hell they are. Sometimes I wonder about the human race as a species- wonder, and worry. I'm sure some animals out there enjoy fighting each other, so it would be presumptuous of me to assume otherwise, but there is a sort of sickness to it that makes me wonder if we were an accident. Regardless, I'm not going to get into that now... after all its early yet.
I've only been drinking for six months on and off, but I've been legally ABLE for two years.
I was at a bar with my 'posse' if you want to call it that, watching men beat the shit out of each other for money and recognition. We had a few drinks and stuck around until the fight we paid cover for came on. By then I was tipsy, so I was feeling the appeal of it all. Its nice to feel powerful without having to flex technological muscles. Sure, any one of those guys could knock me out cold in a single swing, but the fact that I could be like them, that any of us could with a little work and guts... I believe it was round 3 when Cote forfitted because of a leg cramp. It was funny, hearing all of the people in the bar crying out in unified disappointment. At least they only paid five bucks to watch it at a bar, and not fifteen to watch it at home.
We went to a liquor store afterwords, then Walmart, then the Jack in the Box that my ex works at. I was sitting in the back passenger side seat, my roommate sitting next to me. I didn't get anything, Jack in the Box food disgusts me after smelling it in my house constantly for a year. I suppose its better than cat urine, or dirty children, but it still isn't a good smell.
'What's this? Is that... deep-frier I smell on your couch?' Probably...
We made drinks at my friend's house, watched a few movies. Superbad is funny as hell. I used to hate it, but it seems like every time I see it now it gets funnier. I wonder why that is? Most jokes are only funny the first time you hear them...
There were five of us when we all decided to go to bed. My roommate decided to sleep in a reclined chair, and I had the couch with our other friend. Iron chef was on when we all started to drift off to sleep. The secret ingredient was cheddar cheese.
It was around thirty minutes later the pain started, when I noticed my sleeping space was reduced to one cushion. It'd probably be helpful if I mentioned the back injury that I obtained from work a year and a half ago. One or two herniated discs.. and a pinched nerve, or at least that was what I was told it COULD be before my claim was denied. Regardless, I occasionally lose feeling in my legs, and can't get out of bed without some struggle in the morning.
I've been told that constant pain leads to clinical depression...
I don't think I really slept, just drifted in and out of consciousness, having random dreams about the cooking infomercials that were playing on the TV. I'm glad I don't remember them. I remember a lot of my dreams, maybe more than I should.
I limped over to my roommate finally after being awake for a solid hour or so. My phone died at some point, so I had no idea what time it was. I was informed soon after that it was five in the morning, which was a shame because it was still dark. I HAD to leave though.
We walked out into the freezing morning and wiped the windows off with our bare hands. A bad idea, we soon found out, with no heat in the car. I started my car up. Can't see out the windows, or through the rear view. I turned the air to heat, and defrost. Headlights-check, emergency flashers-check. The nice thing about early morning is that no one is around to see you limp your way home, except the police of course. Lets not forget about them.
My car burnt a fuse a month or so back. My dash lights don't work, and neither do any of the lights in the back, so I literally have a driving curfew. Not only that, but my car is very.. temper-mental. Earlier that day my roommate put water in it.. and it promptly sprayed it all out the overflow valve when it had sufficiently heated up.
So there we were, driving down the road in the dark. No lights in the back, no visibility out my mirrors or windows, no contacts in my eyes, and no water in my radiator. 'It's God's day,' my old manager used to say when we asked her to cover a shift on Sunday's, 'and no one should have to work on God's day!.' Funny how it only applied to her.
I noticed the headlights up my ass when I was only three minutes from home, then the good ol' red and blue's. Fuck. Looks like SOMEONE is working on God's day. I let out the usual string of profanities as I pull my car over to the side of the road, shutting it off just as the spotlight blinds me from my rear-view. I get out the usual, but I have to force my window down because its so cold outside.
The officer tells me what I already know. I don't have to explain why I have my flashers on, because he tells me why. And suddenly I am wondering why the hell he bothered to pull me over if he's so damn smart? I know what you're thinking- typical person, typically hating cops for doing their job. Don't get me wrong, I know why we have law enforcement, my own stepfather is a cop. I have had police help me when I have needed help, and I am thankful for it- but something about being awake at five in the morning with no sleep, no lights, no water in my radiator and no patience left on my last nerve had left me a little frazzled. Not to mention the pain shooting down my legs, I suppose that had a hand in it.
He takes my ID, I explain to him my situation. 'Yes officer I wouldn't normally be driving my car like this, but I have a back problem and I needed to go home BADLY..' He shines his flashlight in my eyes, his face filled with scrutiny like he has heard it all before, like every crack smuggling illegal immigrant has used the old 'I'm sorry I'm driving around with ten pounds of crack in my backseat officer, but my back is really killing me!' excuse. I ask you, if I was a criminal, or had stolen my car, or had drugs.. would I really be driving through town, at five am on a Sunday with my emergency flashers on? If you're playing hide and seek do you stand out in the open screaming 'I'm over here! I sure hope no one finds me!'? I felt like I might as well have a dead hooker and a meth lab in my backseat. He obviously isn't buying my back story, or maybe its too early to care. He shines his light in at my roommate, asks for a name, then ID, takes one brief look at the ID, and gives it back. I find myself briefly wondering about protocol.
He gives me back my information, and informs me that I should avoid driving my car at night. I tell him that I understand, and that I wouldn't have but it was prudent that I get home. He puffs up, like a rooster getting ready to crow, and repeats himself, adding, '..eventually these warnings are going to turn into tickets...' I can't remember if I said anything in response, or just thanked him for his advise.. warning.. whatever it was. When I go to turn on my car it won't start.
I try it again.. nothing, it doesn't even try to turn over. I turn off my flashers and wait.
About three weeks ago my roommate replaced my battery. I had gone to Colorado to visit a friend of mine, and apparently my car doesn't just save up all of its anitics for my personal amusement.
I try it again- success! I turn on my flashers and continue on my way. The officer that pulled me over was talking to a man that just appeared out of the darkness. I'm not sure what they were talking about, but I noted mentally that being a cop would strain my nerves.
My roommate and I fume about the last few minutes with all the fury of two elderly people ranting about the happenings in their rest home. We finally get home, about three minutes later. I look down at my gauge as we drive under a light just in time to notice that my temp gadge is at H, and that's when I smell the burning. It makes it into my parking spot and we get out. I lock my door, briefly mentioning that I might as well not even bother, and if someone can manage to steal my car they can have it, along with all of its problems.
Finally home, and finally done with my story.
I know there are spelling and grammar errors...but I am too tired to correct them. In some way I think it adds personality, you can tell a lot from a person by the way they improvise word spellings and punctuation.
It is now seven am, still dark, and I am tired. Hopefully the rest of God's day proves to be a little less eventful.