Saturday, March 07, 2009
I'm recovering from my near death illness, given to me by Milwaukee, I'm sure of it. TB, SARS, walking pneumonia, or my body detoxifying itself after giving up cigarettes, I'm not sure of which it is. I get chest pains, I cough and get occasional headaches. All vague symptons that probably wouldn't even help House out until he talked Watson, or Wilson, or whatever, and found that mystery illness that no one's ever heard of and then told me that my parents were siblings or some such craziness.
The lady designing my tattoo says she's got the design ready and that I should stop in to have a look and schedule the first appointment. I didn't call this week and am not stopping by this weekend because I'm carrying this damned pager until Monday. I had hopes that I'd do that first apopintment on the 21st but my buddies, who want to be present to watch me writhe in agony and who I'll likely need for moral support when that needle digs into my sternum. They're going to Utah for spring break. Who the hell goes to fucking Utah for spring break, particularly these two, who have no earthly reason to be there? I've warned them to be on the lookout in SLC, recalling my visit to the city where there's absolutely no homeless crazy people wandering the streets. I'm not sure, but I think they kill those people and use them for soilent green, which likely undergoes some Mormon idea of transubstantiation(I spelled that right on the first try, I rule) and becomes the body of Joseph Smith or something. They ask me what I have against these people. All I have to say is this. It bums me out more because there's a roller derby on that day and there's someone I'd like to invite to come along who in the past expressed interest in going. Without my buddies along, we'd have to deal with my awkwardness and long silences and she'd probably be put off by the confused look on my face, which might be misinterperted for disinterest or something when really it's because I still don't understand how they assign points in that sport.
said Tommy T. at 2:57 PM - #
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The lady designing my tattoo says she's got the design ready and that I should stop in to have a look and schedule the first appointment. I didn't call this week and am not stopping by this weekend because I'm carrying this damned pager until Monday. I had hopes that I'd do that first apopintment on the 21st but my buddies, who want to be present to watch me writhe in agony and who I'll likely need for moral support when that needle digs into my sternum. They're going to Utah for spring break. Who the hell goes to fucking Utah for spring break, particularly these two, who have no earthly reason to be there? I've warned them to be on the lookout in SLC, recalling my visit to the city where there's absolutely no homeless crazy people wandering the streets. I'm not sure, but I think they kill those people and use them for soilent green, which likely undergoes some Mormon idea of transubstantiation(I spelled that right on the first try, I rule) and becomes the body of Joseph Smith or something. They ask me what I have against these people. All I have to say is this. It bums me out more because there's a roller derby on that day and there's someone I'd like to invite to come along who in the past expressed interest in going. Without my buddies along, we'd have to deal with my awkwardness and long silences and she'd probably be put off by the confused look on my face, which might be misinterperted for disinterest or something when really it's because I still don't understand how they assign points in that sport.
said Tommy T. at 2:57 PM - #
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