Like Three Days of Finals
In my reckless college days, a friend and I decided one finals week that we'd pull two consecutive all-nighters. I don't remember what drugs we were on then made us think this was a good idea. We armed ourselves with No-Doz, coffee, junk food, bought new highlighters, and set up camp in an empty study room down the hall. We made it through Monday alright. Monday night came and went, still perky and shiny, only a teensy bit shaky from all the caffeine. Tuesday crept along, we were okay, just okay, bought lots of Diet Coke and chocolate. Tuesday night we started seeing trails. Sleep deprivation psychosis ducked his head in the study room and asked, "Hey, is there room for me in there?" We motioned him in.
Our thought processes slowed markedly. "Hand me that pen. Wait...uh...pen...uh...what was I saying?"
Wednesday morning at 5 a.m., we knew we'd made a huge mistake. A huge, horrible, quivering, gelatinous mistake. I saw faces in the table and shushed them when they tried to convince me the balcony outside was not so high that I couldn't jump off it and run to the store for ice cream. I could hear my bed whispering from down the hall, "Shhhh...the books can wait, Mona...my sheets smell sooooooo good...why don't you come down for a little rest? I won't tell...."
I had a final at 8 a.m. that morning, another at 1 p.m. I remember the earlier one. The latter is totally erased from the board. I went. I had to, my grade showed up on my report card instead of an 'Incomplete'. But guess what? I totally SUCKED IT. Yeah. Big frickin' surprise, huh? I'd be surprised if I put the correct name on that test, let alone figure out how to color in those oval answer sheets.
Because of my rampant insomnia, sick child last week, sick child last night, various thoughts that won't leave my head, and about thirteen-seventy blogs running through my head, today feels like, oh, about Tuesday Noon of my three-day non-sleep binge. I'm okay to drive, I'm at work and cranking out projects with my usual aplomb. But I'm just a little...oh...offffff. Just a sniglet.
But before I go searching for more caffeine, I wanted to throw out some stuff:
1) Girl-child is sick, and Sergei is home with her today, as I stayed home with sick boy-child last week. And Sergei is a great dad and wonderful caregiver...but I still want to be home with the girl. Part of that momma-lion nature, I guess, fiercely protective. I just want to press my face into her neck, and stroke her hair, and tell her she's a brave, strong girl and everything will be okay.
2) I got a raise at work last week! Woo-hoo! Woo...uh...oh. Our mortgage payments went up $100 recently, a serious cramp, something about equity and minimum amounts and that's just SO rubbish. So I was totally looking forward to my upcoming raise...which was one year late due to the company's financial picture. And I got my paycheck yesterday! And I ripped it open! And I saw...! Shit. My raise pushed me up higher, more taxes taken out, I was still bringing home a little more. But did it make up for the mortgage hike? Oh No. Absolutely not. I'm still behind, just not as much. Fuckin' damn hell piss cunt. Still, more $$ is good $$.
3) School board meeting several nights ago, the board recognized me as one of the smart folks who fought recently to keep certain programs (which they did...fight the power!) The board smiled at me and shook my hand, but you could see they were apprehensive. What the hell was I gonna stand up and speak out about tonight? During Public Comments, I just sat there with my spiral notebook and Bic pen, smiling a sort of, 'hey, I'm cool' smile. Public Comments ended, and they visibly relaxed. Did I inspire fear? Heh heh, I do believe you is a-scared of me!
4) "Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla" is damn funny. Godzilla versus anything kicks movie ass.
5) Why is it a damn crime for women to adjust their boobies in public? I mean, every fruckin' baseball player can jam his hand down his stripey pants and move the boys around, and we can't say shit about it. My guy friends feel (apparently) so comfortable around me that, while deep in conversation about some new software package or marketing blip, can just grab ol' Mr. Johnson and his two hairy stepchildren and make 'em do a little zipper dance until it's the end of the world as they know it and feel fine. BUT. If our breasteses get all scootched around in there in the cuppage, and we stretch and maybe we've lost or gained weight or just didn't notice, and our nipple is pointing, oh, say, sideways through our skintight shirt, we can't just reach down in front of everyone and flip that little pea to the front. At the meeting the other night, very attractive woman, mid-40s, totally MILF material, was speaking and the podium set up so I saw her side. And not that I check out women as a habit...oh, that's such a lie...but I noticed that something was staring at me as she spoke. Sideways. To the side. Nipple alert! Nipple alert! I wanted to yell. I didn't. I just thought, oh, she's gotta know, and what's she gonna do? Grab her melon and roll it 'round? And why shouldn't she? So what if the school superintendent is watching! So what if it's being televised! It's natural, girlfriend! Pluck away!
6) MILF and other urban slang definitions can be found here. I love this place.
7) I also love this. I want to visit NYC just so I can contribute.
8) Okay, now it's feeling more like Wednesday, 1 a.m. My coffee-and-lunch rollercoaster has officially pulled in to the station to refuel, and I'm off to find caffeine and something to stick in my mouth for the afternoon.
Hey, hand me that p-...uh...what was I sayin'?