Sleepless In Seattle (If Seattle was my basement)

I have to be up for 9 a.m. in order to start polishing up my tarnished essay, which needs to be done by 12 p.m. so I can get some driving done at 12:30 p.m. so I don't fail my drive test at 4:00 p.m., which will allow me to be in a good mood for 6:00 p.m. when I'll be at youth group.

Why am I here?

Well, because I'm sleepless in my basement, and my mind needs a place to go. I've resigned myself to the fact that anything else I put in my essay tonight will probably ruin it, so I'm letting it have a good night's rest. Aren't I just a thoughtful little guy?

I finally passed my grammar test, which mended the dirty wound inflicted by my low psychology test score. There's something to write cyberspace about.

Oh! and I cut my hair. It was a weird experience though. My head felt like it was peeing its pants when the lady was washing it. You know that feeling you get when you slowly become wet in a place you're not supposed to be? No? Just me, eh. Well, it made me laugh. I had to resort to telling her that my chuckle was due to a funny joke I heard on Leno (mostly because it's the first thing that came to my mind). There's no way she believed that.

It's time to force myself into a shallow slumber for 8 hours, when I'll have to pry my eyes open and my body out of bed, and face the day like a man. Wow, how I'm not looking forward to tomorrow. Sheesh.

Weak, So weak.

I just got a 50 on one of my psych tests. Yep, the lowest mark you can possibly get without failing. That's me.

Excuse me while I go throw up.

The Many Faces of 'iPat.'

While spending a morning in the RCC with nothing to do, I came across quite a few acronyms for iPat that differ from mine. Aside from 'I'm Pretty Awesome Today,' (which I only just made up) here are just a few of it's other meanings:

International Porcelain Artists and Teachers
Iowa Program for Assistive Technology
Information Protection Assesment Toolkit
Individual Personality Assessment Test
an Equation: (I)impact = (P) population x (A) affluence x (T); or I=PAT

It's also an Electrical company based in Ireland that specializes in portable appliance testing, and an industry performance analysis survey.

... I think I'm going to change the name of my blog.

Spicy Baconator.

I had it. And as a service to you all, I've decided to give you some very helpful advice:

Stay Away.

If the original wasn't bad enough for you, Wendy's decided to add what I hope are jalapeno's, and what I hope is some sort of spicy mozzarella cheese. The cheese, mind you, looks like a thin white slab of puke after a night of bad mexican food. It doesn't taste much better.

At least the original baconator, as disgusting as it was, had some sort of redeemable flavour to it. It's 'spicy' counterpart doesn't. It also gave me some stinky gas. Nobody would pay for stinky gas. I paid for stinky gas. I paid $8.92 for stinky gas.

Heed my warning, friend's. The Spicy Baconator is an evil force you ought not to reckon with.

Complete Beardom

Hm, this title could be read two ways: bear-dom, or beard-om... The latter is more appropriate and the obvious choice, but I just wanted to make 100% sure that the people who probably [don't] read this aren't anticipating a story about bears. I'm just bored on a saturday night, when I should be studying. Before you judge me on my unstudiousness*, let me state my position. In order to get any significant studying done between the time I get home from work and the time I go to bed, I would have to deprive myself of a few hours sleep. Studying for an hour just doesn't cut it. I'm not in the zone in an hour. I'm not even close. If the zone were a destination, I'd still be on the side of a dirt road with my thumb extended, trying to hitch a ride from the first gross trucker dude that finds me attractive. Geez, what a lose lose situation. Which is why, you see, I am in no rush to reach the zone. Now, onto the reason for this entry: My beard. It's still a baby, I'll confess. It has not reached it's potential yet, or more appropriately, the potential I wish it would have. I'm not posting this in an effort to brag, as you can probably tell my fuzz isn't exactly much to brag about. This is intended to live on when my beard does not. Sadly, my beard may not exist for much longer. I've been surprised at the result though. The concensus seems about 50/50 in the beard popularity vote. Maybe I could just keep half of it?

You'll notice that the picture is a tad small. Apparently, the flash snuck it's way up my nose and found some boogers to illuminate. I also apparently need a haircut. Maybe then, wheelchair bums won't run into me and call me a guitar-toting-hippie. Geez, who knew disabled people could be so bitter?

I’m blogging from Word!

This is just a test. I'm not sure how it works yet, but this could mean big tings. Big tings indeed.

Insomniapple pie.

I can't sleep when I have insane cravings for apple pie. I get insane cravings for apple pie when I can't sleep. I think I have a condition. I'll call it I.C.A.P.


I encourage anyone else who thinks they may have a similar problem to please come and talk with me. Perhaps the foundations for an I.C.A.P. support group can be laid.

In other news, my room is now heated. Apparently the heating vent was closed all this time. Go figure.

Beginning of the Weak

Hi. I'm sick.

I hate being sick.

Up until January of 2008, I was able to enjoy a nice streak of healthiness (minus stomach pains incurred during 'The Office' marathons and macaroni & cheese binging). Since January, however, I have had either a stuffy nose, a scratchy throat, or a disgusting cough that brings up phlegm in all the colours of the rainbow. Sometimes, I'm lucky enough to enjoy this triple threat all at once. This sucks for a couple of reasons:

1) I'm getting quite sick of the taste of my own snot.
2) I can't laugh without coughing up a storm.
3) I can't sing without coughing up a storm (the fact that I can't sing might be a blessing to some...but it sucks for me, k?)
4) My cat seems to think I'm some kind of monster*
5) I can't sleep.

I can't sleep, people. I enjoy my sleep more than I enjoy the company of [most] others. I've been so desperate to fall asleep, I've resorted to home remedies, or internet remedies rather, that my mom has received via e-mail. In all it's ridiculousness, every night I put Vicks Vapo Rub on my feet and go to bed with my socks on. This is a vain attempt at a peaceful slumber. It doesn't freaking work!! But every night I find myself lathering it on with the slightest morsel of hope stuck in the back of my mind... that it just might work this time. But apparently it's making my feet soft, so I guess it has a redemptive quality.

Now, instead of spending my day being productive in school, I'm at home waiting for my driving instructor to show up so he can help me cheat my way through lessons. Ok, it's not as bad as it sounds. I'm just signing papers saying I did my lessons in January rather than in March, when they expire... Whatever, it was his idea. I don't even know if I'm having a lesson today. I can never understand that man. The only words I've been able to process from him are contained in the phrase "TURN LEFT YOU IDIOT!!!" What? So I almost hit a bicyclist. He was wearing a helmet anyways.

I'm going to go attempt to do something valuable with my time. Although it is a Monday... maybe I'll just watch Evil Dead.

*this was not a Metallica reference. Both my cat and I hate Metallica. Wait... by acknowledging that Metallica has a DVD by the name "Some Kind of Monster", does that mean I just made it a reference? Shoot.