Crashed

Yesterday was epically awful, yet this is just too good a story to pass up. It all started Monday evening. Instead of closing at work, as I usually do, I was schedualed to clock out at 7. This meant that I could, theoretically, make the 8:00 PM workout class at Kosama instead of what I usually do when I have to work evenings:get up at 5:30 AM and go to the 6:15 AM class. Me, being the cocky shit you all know and love, decided to go for it. After all, I'd get a whole EXTRA HOUR of sleep. No downside, right?

Well, the workout was...odd. The classes I usually attend have about 15-20 other people there. The 8:00, however, is the last class of the day.

There was one other guy there.

He seemed like a pretty decent guy, until we started the workout. Mondays are Kettlebell exercises. Basically, a big weight with a handle that you haul around. Unfortunately, OtherDude was a grunter. But not just any grunter, oh no, he was KING of the grunters. Every time he moved a weight, he released a sound that I can only liken to that of a zebra giving birth. A truly awful soundtrack.

Anyways...I went back to my brother's house & watched the end of the Bears-Packers game.(Da Bears) After this, I decided to hit the hay. Well, I sleep in the basement, which is also the domain of my brother's two basset hounds, Moke and Bruce. Moke went staight to sleep, but Bruce kept me up 'til 1 AM. I'm not sure what you'd call it, it wasn't howling, nor was it growling. More like grumbling. Very loud grumbling.

Well, I get up at 5:30 to work out and quickly realize how tired I am. I do some quick math in my head: it's only been 9 hours since I got out of Monday's workout. I consider skipping, but decide against it, seeing how this is my only opportunity to workout today since I'm working 4-close at Fareway. Grimly, I cowboy up and get through the workout.

Flash forward six hours. It's the tail end of my Calculus class & I'm having trouble staying concious. As if understanding Implicit Differentation wasn't hard enough, I was now sleepwalking through it. I just need a bite to eat, I think to myself. After getting out of there and into the neighborhood Quiznos, I realize that I'm feeling a little better, so I decide to pick up a book that came out that day.

At Barnes & Noble's, it's quickly becoming apparent that this was a bad idea. I can barely hold my eyes open, let alone walk in a straight line. Still, I try to keep going. After finding the book I was after, I tried to read the back. It was at this time when I realized that I was incapable of seeing straight. This wasn't good. I work in a Meat Dept, there are knives. I currently have the motor functions of a drunken orangutan. Trying to jump start my brain, I whacked my forehead with the hardcover text in my hands. I didn't feel anything. I was now scared. I need to sit down to think, so I quickly find the nearest sitting instrument (footstool) and text my brother for guidance.

Alas, as it is in most of my distressing moments, Alex was out being an adult, aka working. I sat for 4 more minutes before finally calling work & asking for a sick day. After hearing my condition, they were all to happy to oblige. I then paid for the book and went home. Upon my arrival, my mother was just finishing up her shift of babysitting for my nephew. I told her my story, and then was informed that I would have to look after lil' Casey until my sister-in-law Karen got home in 15 minutes. Let me be clear in saying that in all honesty, I was not up to the task. But I went ahead and did it anyway, because I'm a good person. For reals.

Those 15 minutes seemed like hours. Casey was pretty drowsy too, but still had a lot of zip in him. To alleviate this (and stay awake) I got one of his music toys out. He played on one side, working out excess energy. I was on the other, hoping the bright lights would keep me awake. I noticed that my pocket was shaking. Alex had replied to my earlier text where I described what I was going through. My big brother's advice? "Sounds like you need to get off the weed. Get some sleep." Finally, Karen got home & took him off my hands. I gave her the Cliff Notes version of what you just read, and she gave me a stunned look. "Um, go to bed." was her advice. I waited until she and Casey left (she was going to workout, he was getting dropped off at her parents) before going down to the basement.

I then passed out for the next four hours.

I awoke at a quarter to nine. Everything was dark. Better yet, I didn't remember anything from earlier. I'm pretty sure I forgot my name, or where I was. Deciding to look for clues to such conundrums, I stumbled up the stairs to talk to Alex and Karen, make funny faces at Casey, and eat dinner. I then returned to my dungeon and slept for the next six or so hours.

That was probably the worst day I've had in a long time. And to think, this all started so I could get one more hour of sleep so I could be more alert and awake.

Life, circa NOW

Hey. Sup? I bet that you've all been pretty busy. So have I. If you're wondering what's with the whole laid back thing, it's 1:21 am right now. Anywho...

I'm thinking of going by Andrew, not Andy. Thought I'd let you know. Why? Because, for the first time in my life, I've found myself in a world where I can completely define myself to complete strangers. This has been both terrifying and hilarious, as the people in my Calculus class now think I'm a boy genius. That's pretty sweet, I gotta admit.

Still, I miss the old world of High School. Simply put, the world gets lonely without familiar faces out there. I now have friends on both coasts and in various stages of the military. It's...surreal. I'm growing up. We all are. I miss everyone from my graduating class. And (don't you ever tell them this, I will deny it) I even miss all the underclassmen.

Speaking of which, I recently learned that, apparently, I was POPULAR in high school. Uh, what? When was this? I guess that I got along with everyone ok, but I never saw myself as one of the Elite. Maybe that's why I was *POPULAR*.

Recently, I thought about what I wanted to do with my life before I died. Here's what I came up with:

-Write at least 2 books, one of short stories, and one novel.
-Save a life.
-Make a million dollars.
-Write that AcDec movie screenplay.
-Have a week long party on a private island.
-Always be able to talk to my friends.
-Find "the one."
-Keep all my limbs attached to my body.

What do you want to do? If you're one of the four people who have either chosen of your own free will to read this, or if you were coerced into it by me, leave a comment. What do you want to do?