Fast forward about four or five hours. I'm sitting at my desk at work, actually being productive. All of a sudden, it feels like my chest is wet. Like I'm sweating. I may be out of shape and lazy, but I do not sweat sitting at a computer. Unless the URL begins with por and ends in nhub.com. I reach down my shirt and my hand makes it look like I've been stabbed. I immediately freak out and see blood all over my collar, undershirt, and leaking down my chest again. I have no idea how long I had been bleeding. Judging by the stains, it was a good five minutes or more.
I checked my surroundings, made sure no one was around, and bolted for the bathroom. I get in there and see this tiny ass pinhole leaking blood like the faucet was left on. Not gushing or anything, but a solid stream. Another guy from my floor walked in and noticed I had a paper towel on my neck and asked if I was bleeding. Told him I had cut myself shaving. Solid lie right on the spot. I wish it had been a shaving cut, at least then I could blame something.
I cleaned myself up. It was a good thing I was wearing a sweater over my button up shirt that day. I rarely do this but it came in clutch. It pretty much hid the blood stain. For the rest of the day, a solid four hours still, I was paranoid the leak would happen again. It must have been every three minutes I touched my neck to see if the blood was trickling again. It hasn't happened since, for which I am grateful.
This is me at work. I sent this pic to a few friends, including one "doctor" to see if they could diagnose me. No such luck.
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| Dapper |
And this was when I got home and was able to see the extent of the damage. It soaked through this shirt and stained my undershirt as well. I just did laundry tonight and by no means did this stain go away. Either I need to come up with a good story about meeting a girl or I need to take it home and have my mom clean it for me.
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| Stupid mystery wound |
Speaking of moms, I have one. I can't speak for all moms (except YOUR mom) but mine liked to save the environment. She would yell at people who threw garbage out their cars. Obviously the other driver could never hear her, but it's the thought. She would pick up strewn cans in the park. And she would save and reuse the shit out of things. I've come to realize there is no doubt it my mind that I am related to her.
She used save all of the plastic bags she got from the grocery store. (I say used to because she now brings her own bags) Didn't matter that there was no way in hell we could ever use all of those bags, she saved them. What do you know, I do the same damn thing. If I had even less of a life than I do now, I would go and count how many plastic bags I have. But I'll spare you. Just know, I still have some bags from Texas. Meaning yes, I thought enough about them to pack them away and drive 1200 miles with them. Definitely have some Pammy in me.
Growing up, she wanted me to reuse the brown bag I would bring my lunch in. As a kid, this was embarrassing because, well kids get embarrassed for stupid shit like this. Fifteen years later, I can relate. My friend's mom made me some chocolate covered pretzels, must have put 30 into a giant Ziploc bag for me. When I finished those bastards a month later, I did what came natural. I saved that bag. No idea if I'll ever use it, but I have it still and Pammy would be proud.
What does a person usually do when the hand soap runs out in their bathroom or kitchen? Simple answer would be to refill it with soap or buy another. Not my mom though. She will take that last remaining soap that is not thick enough to be sucked up into the straw and add water to it. Boom, instant soap. My bathroom hand soap ran out the other day. (At least it means I'm using it.) I immediately grabbed it and filled it with water. Hell, the hand soap in my kitchen ran out a few months back while still in Austin. I filled it with water then. That soap is currently sitting on my kitchen sink, water still (barely) intact.
Life lesson: my mom (and I) care more about the environment than you. Probably.
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I live in a big ol' fucking barn. Not an actual barn, but close enough. Old barn-like house means drafty windows. Which means I went all Bob Villa on them the first week I lived here and sealed them with plastic. Bought a hair dryer to shrink the plastic and all, the works. Four of my five windows have been sealed off for at least two months. Now I don't know how these bastards got in there, and apparently neither do they. Those are three dead flies. There's a fourth one too but I couldn't get them all in the same pic.
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| God I have such a shitty life. |
Two coworkers and I had a pretty intense conversation the other day. It centered on something near and dear to all of us born in the late 80s. We were reliving the glory days of AOL Instant Messenger which was Facebook before there was Facebook, Twitter before Twitter, etc.
I remember making my screen name in seventh grade. It was named after my favorite wrestler and my favorite number. My screen name became such second nature to me that to this day, I regularly use it as my login for shit like the websites for my cable, electric, etc. I have a Yahoo! email address at my screen name.
I used to spend hours on AIM, compiling away messages and waiting for people to talk to me. AIM was the greatest thing ever for about 8-10 years. I used it throughout high school up until about junior year of college. America Online used to have the world by the balls. Then it just ended one day. I don't know if you can completely blame Facebook, but I'm sure that was the beginning of the end for AIM.
AIM was the shit. I am quite tempted to download the program and see if any of my former AIM pals are on. I bet fiothegeo is.
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Going down to Columbus for the Columbus Shuffle tomorrow for the weekend. I have three friends who have birthdays within the next week or so and a bunch of us are going down to celebrate. No idea what to expect besides lots of booze.
The next weekend is my sister's wedding. On St. Patrick's Day no less. If my family is nothing else, at least we're cliche. So that means I'll be heading to sweet home Chicago next Thursday. I've taken that Friday and the following Monday off so I can celebrate accordingly.
My parent's have a two story house and a basement. There are three beds in their house, counting their own. My mom's family is coming in from Arizona. The number of people sleeping in the house that weekend far exceeds the number of beds or couches. There will be my whole family (5), four from Tucson, AZ, four from Flagstaff, AZ, and three or four of my sister's friends. Sounds like I may be adding a new room to my sleep list. I only need the laundry room, middle and upstairs bathrooms. Cross all your fingers.
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Southside Irish Parade is this weekend back home. Bummed to be missing it's glorious return. The last year I was there was 2009, which also happened to be the last year it was held. My neighborhood and those surrounding tend to be Irish Catholic so this is a huge deal for a lot of people. It was usually a massively drunken shit show by 300,000+ people. This year, there is supposedly a zero tolerance on alcohol. No idea what that means besides that I'm pissed to be missing it. Good luck and godspeed to all you parade goers out there.
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Sláinte.
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