Re-lost wallet and punched Coleman.
Woohoo for Saturdays.
First off, I was playing around with my camera today and took a bunch of pictures of my bed from the ceiling and stitched them all together. Who knows -- If I'm really bored, maybe I'll do it for my whole room...
Last friday I lost my wallet.
Yeah -- crap.
Any sort of ID that I'd had in my possession had been in it, so I now had nothing. No student ID. No driver's license. No medicare card. No nothing. Since it was the Thanksgiving long-weekend, I couldn't even get a replacement backcard until something like Tuesday.
Yesterday Peter (our landlord) was over installing the new door, and he found my wallet in the hedges of our front lawn. I guess that I threw it aside when we were riding down the main stairwell in the storage container, presumeably because it was digging into my butt as I careened over the steps. So I went out again last night -- against my better judgement, I might add -- and guess what? I lost my freakin' wallet again!
Yeah, yeah, yeah... I know. I'm an idiot. But hey -- at least it was a fun time. To be truthful. I only had my driver's license and student card in there this time, since everything else was drying on the floor of my room at that moment. So I guess a week in a bush makes a wallet wet. Go figure.
And Coleman just sent me this joke which he says his psych prof sent to him! Lovin' it!
Before I lay me down to sleep,
I pray for a man, who's not a creep,
One who's handsome, smart and strong:
One who loves to listen long:
One who thinks before he speaks;
One who'll call, not wait for weeks.
I pray he's gainfully employed;
When I spend his cash, won't be annoyed.
Pulls out my chair and opens my door,
Massages my back and begs to do more.
Oh! Send me a man who'll make love to my mind,
Who knows what to answer to "how big is my behind?"
I pray that this man will love me to no end,
And always be my very best friend.
I pray for a deaf-mute nymphomaniac
with huge boobs who
owns a liquor store, fishing boat and a Ferrari.
This doesn't rhyme and I don't give a shit.
Speaking of Coleman, I guess I punched him in the face last night. Seriously. He showed me the mark right between his eyes.
We ran into Lovell in 180 (a bar), and he was sitting at the bar, so I decided to smack him in the back of the head. Due to my state at the time, my coordination was somewhat compromised, so I completely overshot his head and effin' smoked Coleman. When I'd missed Lovell I apparently started to close my hand, so by the time it made contact with Coleman's face, it was a full-fledged fist. Lovell, who hadn't even known that his head was in danger, turned around just in time to see me clock Coleman between the eyes and knock him over. Connie was working the bar, so I guess her and Lovell got a kick out of it! There were only a few of us in the bar, and the bouncer is cool, so he understood and I didn't get kicked out or anything.
And here are a few pics of our ghetto Thanksgiving dinner here at 12 Hatcher. It actually turned out not so half-bad. Kinda. They didn't have any non-frozen turkeys left at Sobey's, so we had a Thanksgiving duck instead. Yep, that's right -- a duck.
I only used the inside rolls when I was putting the rolls in a bowl for the meal, so we had a roll-ring and nothing at all to do with it. So I put it on my head. It seemed like a perfectly logical thing to do at the time.
And oh yeah: I tried to do the worm last night in Julia's kitchen. It didn't work out too well, and I fell on my face. My chin really hurts today. And just so y'know, my "worm" consists of me jumping up into the air as high as I can, then diving head-first into the ground. So I guess technically it's only the start of the worm, but usually I can pull it off, although there was this one time a few summers ago when I attempted to do it in Coleman's driveway and made myself bleed...