I've been extremely extremely excited the past couple of days because I purchased a newwwwwwww PET!
And I don't really know what to name him! It's called a sugar glider and it's a tree-dwelling marsupial native to Australia, New Zealand, and Indonesia. They have extra skin on their sides, like a flying squirrel, that allows them to glide a good distance. They're extremely agile and fast, and not to mention, totally badass. It's like having a little koala monkey.
Here he is: He sleeps in a little pouch, because their mothers carry them around in pouches.
His cage is fucking huge. He likes keys.
He is an excellent wall-scaler.
My ideas for names are:
1) Goose 2) Oliver 3) Stitch and... 4) Suge Knight
Today is going to be a lot better than yesterday, and maybe just a little bit longer. Yesterday was a bad day. My stomach was in knots all day, and my mind was down in the dumps. This has since been cured, and my only physical discomfort at the moment is a slight rumbling of hunger pains. I'll take care of this soon. But first, I have to mail my taxes, and go to work, and get my tip money. Such an agenda.
I'd really like to start playing music again soon. I just ran into my old friend Justin recently, and he has a new music project, that I haven't listened to. But he's always been in music projects and by this point, I can pretty much imagine what kind of sound he has now. Still, I'd like to ask him if he wants to get high and mess around on guitars for a while. Maybe I'll do that tonight. Maybe I'll actually listen to his band, too. You know, in case he asks.
In other news, if the computer POS system at work is not fully recovered today, I'm going to spend a lot of time on break. And I'm probably going to bring a little pot to work today. 11am to 9pm??? You would, too, motherfucker. Peace.
Because after she walks out the door, you know you just fucked up. It hits you almost suddenly, and you realize that this is what you deserve. You brought it on yourself, but you always seem to forget that.
People are telling me that lately I fall down a lot. This is just what people tell me; I don't think I really fall down that often. They're legitimate accidents. Each with their own causes and effects, and the cause is typically not inebriation. On the contrary to your preconceived notions that I'm wasted every time I hop on a bike, some of my worst accidents have actually happened when I was stone-cold sober.
And while I'm on the topic of worst accidents, about two weeks ago was the one-year anniversary to my exquisitely intense brush with death. The triple rollover. Cement wall. I just recently got the last piece of auto glass out of my knee. Eleven whole months to work all those little bastards out of my thick scar tissue. The last one was about as big as an M&M, and no, it was not candy-coated, round or chocolatey. It was jagged, and really sharp, and digging into my knee any time I put weight on the fucking thing. The moment my leg gave birth to the last remnant of Matt D.'s truck window was one of the best feelings in a good while.
But back to bikes. I know I'm not the most graceful person ever. Anybody that knows me will tell you this. I bump into things. I knock things over. If we're walking close to each other, there's a good chance my big ass is going to collide with your body at some point, and probably more than once (I'm sorry, I just can't walk straight). It would seem logical that an ungraceful person shouldn't be whipping down the road on a mountain bike. But it's faster than walking, and I enjoy it. And it's hella ride bikes to ride bikes.
I guess I could invest in a whole suit of protective gear. A bubble suit. Getting my license back and getting a car. Then I could cause bike accidents. Right of way, my ass.
I drive on my suspended license pretty regularly. It's dangerous, and if I get caught, I'm going straight to jail. But I'm a pretty good driver, and I know a couple lawyers. But the other night, I took my criminal driving to a whole new level and took my roommate's company vehicle out without permission. Don't worry, I returned it. Driving stolen trucks is fun.
After re-reading that last paragraph, I realized that biking is such a better option. I'll take my spills and scrapes over incarceration anyday.
First and foremost: Houston, it's easy to win twenty games in a row when you're playing some pretty weak competition (minus the Jazz and maybe Golden State).
And then the Celtics came and you had to play a real team. And you got knocked around all night.
And now you ain't winnin' shit.
In other news, I had a couple free Irish Carbombs after my shift on St. Patrick's Day. I went home drunk, accidentally broke a bottle in the sink, and sliced my finger open trying to get the glass out of the sink. There was blood everywhere and I bit a chunk of my own flesh off and spit it into the sink, thus landmarking my most metal moment to date. Shitty alcohol also creates harder hangovers.
I guess I can't really think of anything else to write about so I'm going to get stoned and ( just post some pictures. )
I'm alive. I moved to Tempe. I live in a house with two 31-year-olds, and one 32-year-old. It's interesting, and I'm learning to never be like them when I get older.
I just turned 22. I had a very low-key birthday, and I liked it a lot better that way.
I am still with Stephenie and we are very very in love.
My life is really simple, and I like it a lot better that way, too.
It's my second day off in a row, and I'm just looking for things to keep me busy. I'm usually up by 7:30AM and bored by 8:00AM. We'll fix that. We got it. I think I last posted on here in like... April or something.
My life is okay. In the next month or so, I'd like to get my own apartment and work towards getting a car. Ideally, I'd want to live closer to my job, but anywhere but Mom's house is starting to sound absolutely wonderful. You should come with me.
I've been working about five days a week now. Thursday through Monday. There's no A/C at the brewery, so I've been working in the heat. I think I've lost about 15-20 pounds since March or so. I don't mind that.
About the only two people I spend my time with (outside of work) are Stephenie and Cory. Cory and I both work at the brewery, so we have the occasional "after-work downtime" (See: beer, pot, and TV).
Steph and I are still together, and we're coming up on nine months. There isn't one person on this earth that I would rather spend my days with. She went to Europe for a month, and that was some seriously difficult shit to pull through. I drank a lot for that month, but I was a good boy and waited for my girl to return stateside. I love her. And you're probably reading this, so--I love you.
I still love TV nights with you, like when we first started dating. And I swear I could make a list of the songs we have sung in the car. You know... my awful memory.
On Tuesday, April 2nd, at about 2:30AM, I was getting a ride home from Matt D. in his lifted Mazda truck. I was not wearing a seatbelt, because the seatbelts don't work in his truck. My window was open because the windows don't roll up in his truck.
Within a quarter mile and a clear view of our destination, Matt decided to cut through a dirt lot with his truck. He floored it through the lot and began to weave back and forth, kicking up dust. He made a sharp left turn, and the truck started to tip over onto my side. I remember a lot of noise, and a lot of broken glass. We continued to flip, and hit a cement wall.
We must have flipped at least twice, because when I could finally make sense of my surroundings, the truck was on its driver side (and we started rolling on my side). I looked below me and I could see Matt. I told him not to move, in case he had hurt his spine or something. He said let's get out. I could feel something dripping down my leg and feared it might be gas, so I promptly began to exit the vehicle. I put my foot on the steering wheel and hoisted myself up out of the passenger window on top, and jumped out of the vehicle.
When we jumped out, a guy approached us and asked if we were okay, and informed me that he was calling the police. Probably trying to avoid any legal trouble, Matt chased after the man, begging him not to call the police. I looked at my right leg, and it was completely covered in blood. I dropped the ground and waited.
Gilbert Police stopped Matt down the street, and when they finally made their way towards the rolled vehicle. They found me on the opposite side of the street, bleeding pretty badly from my leg. I kept standing up and trying to ask the officers questions, and they kept insisting that I stay seated. I didn't want to sit still. I just wanted to go home. I couldn't really feel the severity of my injuries from the adrenaline.
I stayed seated and an ambulance pulled up. Paramedics came out and cleaned up my leg and asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital, and I said no. They laid me down and checked to make sure I didn't have any neck or spinal injuries. After a thorough exam, they determined that it would be okay if I didn't go to the hospital.
I just wanted to go home. I filled out a statement. The police let me call my mom, and she came and picked me up.
My leg is pretty gashed up, but healing. My body seems to get more and more sore by the hour. I hit my head in the accident, and I keep forgetting simple things. But other than that, I'm pretty lucky to be alive. With no seatbelt on and my window open, I could have easily been thrown from the vehicle, or crushed by the truck itself.
I have off of work until Friday now. Oh yea... I have a job now. Anyway, Livejournal, it's been fun. I'll let you know the next time I have a near death experience, since that seems to be the only time I like to update now. Death is starting to get a little too close for comfort though, so until next time (and we'll hope that's not anytime soon).
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