A list of things that DO NOT go well together in a mere 36 hours:

Part 1: The Lip.

Alright, what do you do when you feel shitty? Well, me I like to change something. Rearrange my room, screw with my hair, whatever, just fuck around with something. Well, for the longest while I've thought about getting my lip pierced. I don't know why, it just looks sort of cool to me. So, with things going fairly badly for yours truly, I made my appointment. I made it on Monday for Wednesday, so I could have the fun of anticipation, saying, "Oooh, I'm getting it done in two days... Oooh, I'm getting it done tomorrow... oooh, I'm getting it done after school!!!" You know, like that. So I got it done. To get it, well, it hurt a little more than the eyebrow, I mean it is a fleshier area and all, thicker too. But not much more. And actually, it didn't hurt that day either. But the next day, and the next and the next up to today... holy crap. Getting crusted on the outside and just plain hurting on the inside, a change isn't always good. Eating is just a funky adventure. Drinking is alright, unless I put some of my crappy anesthetic on my lip and numb it up, then I have to fight not to drool. All in all, quite a terrible experience... ahh, the things I do to make myself beautiful...

Part 2: The Trip:

So the other thing I had to look forward to: the tearful reunion between the AAHG and TMOI. I had bought alcohol earlier in the week for us when I got to his university, but no mixer did I buy. So TMOI calls me and says, "Hey dumbass, you get mixer? No? Then get me some orange juice you big queer!" So I drive out to get some oj before the trip, before the 5 hour trip. I take the black beast van out to the grocery store, and I'm in a rush... it's 5:45, I'm supposed to be over at his moms place at 6. So I see the handicapped parking space vacant and calling to me. I'm only going in for a minute, right? But no... I just couldn't do it for some stupid reason. So I found another spot way down the line and pulled in quick. While pulling in I hear, 'CRRRHHRRHH' the sound of the van scratching against the car to the very right of it. Shit. These 3 guys are hanging around by the scene and coach me out of the spot and back in properly. So I'm waiting there for the owner of this car, pretty much saying fuck the oj, no time, I have to wait for this guy. More damage was on my car than this guys, he had a dent about the size of the back of my hand where half my running board was hanging off. Shit. If I had just taken the handicapped spot... So I wait and wait... nothing. It's 6:15 and I have to fucking go, so I write down my name and number on a piece of paper and go to put it under his windshield when I look in the car. Hmmn... a briefcase with business and insurance papers. Awww shit!! This guy's going to have my ASS!! So... I said fuck it. It was a tiny dent, and I buggered off, asshole that I am, and let some old woman pull into my spot. Dammit.

Part 3: The Other Trip.

So on the way to North Bay, the 5 hour drive, not much really happens. There however, there he is in all his drunken glory. We go into his place, and he's not there but rushes in behind us, drunk as the Pope on Thursday. After about half an hour of trying to give his mom directions to her motel, someone sober does it in a couple minutes and she's off. We go to the campus bar where he tugs at many many people and says, "Hey ---, this is my best friend John. Isn't his lip cool?" It's almost like a club there, so what else am I going to do... I drink. 3 screwdrivers later, I say fuck this because 1) I'm not getting drunk and 2) this place sucks for someone like me. And it's not like he's not making out with some girl out on the dance floor anyhow. So me and one of his housemates go back to their place where I crack open my whisky. And without any mixer, I'm forced to take it back on it's own. And take it back I did. The whole thing, fairly quickly too. The other guys are just looking at me as I do it saying, 'Shit... this guy's hardcore' when it would be the third night I've ever been drunk. So after that, I just get ridiculous. TMOI is back by this time, and I'm screaming at the bitch to make me some friggin soup. He does, and we start dipping toast into it and then I'm eating toast with aerosol cheese and then just toast. This would be noticed as a bad idea only tomorrow. So the soup is forgotten, but the bottle of vodka appears glowing in the night air. I just wince now thinking about it... about how I took shots of that straight from the bottle. Oh God, that was terrible. And then the girl TMOI was making out with at the bar walks by, and he stumble runs out to her and her friend. At this point, they want to go for a drunken walk, as they are as pissed as we are. So we do. TMOI however switches partners on me, the slut. And this girl... my God... she looks so much like the Evil Ex. She looks like her, walks and stands like her. Sort of sounds like her. Fucking scary that was. Fucking terrible scary. However, TMOI and his insatiable drunken lust tries to make nice with everyone he comes across, but we just end up going back to his place alone. We sit there and the other guys go to bed, and me and him are bitching about everything. Mostly girls however. So, with about two hours until his mom is coming back for us to take us back to merry olde Brant, we sleep. But later on I hear someone come in, and I get up to talk to him, but not for too long I don't believe. Terrible.

Part 4: The Arising.

The task of waking us could not have been an easy one. We were out cold when his mom got there. We hadn't packed the truck yet, so that task had to be done. I didn't do it. I layed in bed and moaned. I was probably still drunk. So the drunken TMOI loaded up the truck with his mom and her boyfriend as I simply layed there and wondered how I was still alive, trying to just go back to sleep. With most everything packed, saving his fish for last, we say the necessary goodbyes and I wonder if I actually did puke somewhere on the premises or if that was a dream. I think I did, just no one found it. So off into the truck, which is packed up tighter than Doug's girlfriend. We're basically on top of each other, both of us big flaming messes, gasping for breath and praying for a smooth ride. I find his garbage pail in all the clutter and hold it close to me like a loved one. After a gravol, tylenol and tums, I think I can almost live a long and healthy life after this day. But that was then. After a gravol induced nap, I feel queasy again and take another one. Mere moments later after swallowing the damned thing, I start to fill the garbage can. Chris just looks over at me and says, "Mom, how about pulling over?" So she says alright and keeps driving, leaving me wondering if she's actually going to pull over. But eventually she does and I finish heaving. And you know, you probably don't want to know this... but it was black. It was all fluid and it was blacky purple. That seemed interesting to me at the time, and still does now. So I started to feel better after depositing my worth by the side of the road (I just left the pail there) and after a detour of seeing TMOI partake in a lacrosse game, we finally headed for home. And with that, I slept in my own bed until I had to work.

Appendix: Work

Well, work was alright, I guess. One of my superiors, concerned that I had my own sense of free spirit and individuality questioned the clothing I wore to work, and told me I had to take out my piercings when I was working on the floor. This puzzled me, I mean, the name of the place is Nasty Jacks... it's definitely not high class. It's a relax and drink kind of place, and the other employees and regulars love my appearance. Oh well, what are you going to do, right? Can't fight the Man. Well, I can't take out my lip ring, so I just slipped the eyebrow one out of his hole and put him in my pocket. But I only worked two hours, and of that didn't really WORK for much of it. And that brings me to today. It brings me to a couple more conclusions:

I really want the next two weeks to fly by.

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