Friday, July 24, 2009

Part-Time Sanity

I swear that's all I have the luxury of getting. Part-time sanity. Partially my fault, I understand this and I accept it.

Where to begin?

Tuesday. Tuesdays are soooo boring because nobody does anything on a Tuesday. So I kidnapped my friends Toad and Roo and headed out for an adventure. I stole their Mr. Lee's Chinese Restaurant Virginity and then I drug them to Jeffery's Antique Mall. There we got seperated since I frolicked off to go find vintage lingerie and I think they were looking at antique glasswear. Jeffery's put out their equivalent of last call at 5.50 pm. We met up outside and while we were deciding our next adventure, my Jeredizzle texted us with instructions to come rescue him from work.

We did and we made our way to the mall, blah blah blah blah now for the fun part.

We had time to kill. I had energy I needed to rid myself of. So we went to the reservoir.

We climbed those long stairs to the top, only to scramble down the rocks into the water. I sometimes forget that these girls were raised in Vegas and I was raised on a farm some six or seven miles away from anything at all.

I heard squeals, only to discover Toad found a crawdaddy. She had never seen one before. She was quite delighted. While she was snapping pictures of Jimmy the Crawdad, I made my way back to the top.

It was there I got an idea. A wonderfully brilliant, epically fun idea. We were going to go hill tumbling.

After much cajoling, I managed to talk the girls into. Jeremiah, being the beautifully intelligent man he is, wanted no part other than to laugh at us three hapless females.

Tumble we did. We flew down that hill, screaming with laughter. I haven't had that much fun in I don't remember how long. We were gasping for breath at the bottom, struggling not to puke. The whole time, still laughing.

After we were finally able to stand back up and see straight, we realized we were bleeding. From a thousand tiny cuts and scratches. The grass on the side of that big goddamn will was fucking crab grass. Dry crab grass.

It was okay for the most part, just hilarious, until I got home and took a bath. It stung like the consequences of poor decision making. And I was comfortable with that. Until I dried off. I don't know what possessed me to dry off like normal, but I started rubbing away at my arms.


Lesson learned. Pat dry. Always pat dry.

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