Thursday, July 10, 2008

Whoever came up with the phrase "Good Morning" should be shot

So today I posted earlier, but I took it down because it was all serious and angsty and included some of my real-life, actual FEELINGS about awkward issues, and who wants to read about that? Those who come to this Wonder of a blog (if there really are any of you) are here for my wry observations about things that don't matter, and that's the way I like it.

This morning I was woken up by my current roommate's cell-phone, and then her loud conversation with her boyfriend, and then her alarm clock going off. There was no chance of drifting off to sleep again after that. As consciousness slowly flooded my brain and my eyes squinted open, I realized I couldn't see OR breathe. Because sometime during the night, I had shoved my head completely under the pillow, where I nestled up to the mattress, making a lake of saliva that left the right side of my face drenched. I sat there, in the stifled darkness, slowly roasting as the layers of cottony pillow entrenched my head, and listened to my roommate move around the room getting ready for the day. Only one thought resonated through my skull: DON'T MOVE. If I moved, my roommate would say good morning. And then I'd have to acknowledge her presence and be nice and say good morning back to her, when before noon, all I want to do is eat breakfast and read and not see another person. If you get in my way in the morning, I will most likely either a) kill you with the evil death rays emanating from my glare, or b) take off your head in one bite, chew it up, and then spit it on you.

So rather than make contact with another human being, I sat very still under my layers of blankets and pillows, trying to make my breathing as regular as possible even though I was being smothered by my monstrous pillow. As soon as I heard her leave, clicking the bedroom door shut, I emerged from my pile of bedding and gasped ... I mean gasped ... for air, kicking off my extra blanket and throwing the offensive pillow across the room and into the laundry basket.

To top it all off, when I was making breakfast a couple hours later, I decided it was a good idea to test the stove burner with my fingers. Guess what? It wasn't.

Sunday, July 6, 2008

Feeling Proud

Because if you google the phrase "Peter Frampton robot burp", this is the first site to appear. I can now die happy.