(no subject)
So I had a massive headache today. I put up an away message saying "fuck", or something along those lines, and then I threw myself onto the ground and laid there for a while. Many things happened while I was sprawled on the ground, and it was possibly more educational than that of my entire life. First off, as I hit the ground, I was reminded of the massive amount of burning my skin went through yesterday as I reclined on the beach, and this memory was jogged by the fact that as I hit the ground, my arms and legs rubbed up against the carpet, creating a searful burning feeling that I have constantly been plagued with these past few hours. After the pain subsided, I took off my glasses and threw them on the ground, as if that would miraculously get rid of all my anger and spite towards my brain. Following this unsuccessful task, I realized that this carpet I was laying on was strewn with filth, gum stains, and had probably not been washed since we acquired the piece of fabric, somewhere between the years of 1995 and 1999. It smelled, to say the least, rather fowl. Beyond this point, things began to take a turn for the worst. I turned my head to the left and opened my eyes, staring at what doctors and analists would call my bicep. To further the pleasurful time I was having, I flexed what muscle I saw there several times, until I felt a numbing feeling inbetween the tissue and the bone. Watching my shirt sleeve move up and down reminded me of Zoolander, when he has the big boner and it keeps moving all around under the sheets. Rather amusing. Soon afterwards, my sister walks in, seeing me in what can best be described as a "dead poodle" position. Giving me what I assume was a weird look (I was still at the time, occupied with my bicep), she asked me what I was doing, and not having the energy to make some witty or resourceful comment, I told her "nothing", which was in turn replied with a "your weird" from my fellow fetus-bloomer. How uplifting, wouldn't you say? And then, something extraordinary happened. I played just about the most pitiful air guitar anyone could imagine. Still sprawled out on the floor, I began to finger the fretting positions two feet above my head for the chords of "Faint", and strum my imaginary pick up and down, my thumb being the only moving object of my right hand, like I was The Man himself. What a wonderful experience. Eventually, I became a bit blessed with boredom, and gave up on my left fretting hand. So I was strumming to the beat, and pretending in my mind that I was actually fingering the fret board. I could even see the guitar that I was playing. Black solid body, a 24 fret monster weighing in at a pleasant 8 pounds 9 ounces, destroying all the competetion. Well after this little inquiry of the brain, I decided that maybe if I hit my head either a) hard enough, or b) long enough, against the ground, maybe the headache would go away. Forceful pounding ensued. Due to the basic laws of physics, you know, the one about a moving object meeting an unmovable force, no remedy was found, and the pain was only amplified. It spread from the sides of this damned head to the bridge of the nose, right inbetween both eyes. Seeing as how nothing could be done to ease my suffering, I decided to close my eyes and let the body go through a natural healing process, one composed of white blood cells and the loosening of veins to allow a more free form blood flow. Then, while I was waiting for that to start, I got up and grabbed two Advil from the cabinet in the adjacent room.
Brought to you by Henry Grumet, who is still, to this day, suffering from the disease called "Neural Aching And Contemplative Pressurization", otherwise known as the NAACP.
Brought to you by Henry Grumet, who is still, to this day, suffering from the disease called "Neural Aching And Contemplative Pressurization", otherwise known as the NAACP.