B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-

June 23, 2011

Some times when I go a while without blogging, I don’t apologize or even acknowledge that I’m late with the grub. I just act like nothing happened (which is actually true…). But since me posting in my blog has gone from sporadic to the chance of you winning the lottery, maybe you deserve some sort of apology, eh?

…..Nah.

Yesterday (give or take a few days) I woke up. I believe it was summer, since I haven’t been going to school and it’s 83 degrees. But then, I could be just a little off-schedule and with a fever.

It was around 7:00 in the morning and it was my friends birthday. She wanted to go to the mall with me and two of my sisters. I had stayed up until 3:00 in the morning the other night playing rented video games with my brother who was, like me, seasoned at birth with the salt of demented monstrosity. This gives him and myself the ability to play video games until the unholy hours of the morning without the help of junk food (although we probably consume more than the average person would, for the sheer joy of it).

Usually, I sleep in until 12:00 in the afternoon to get 8 hours of sleep. I like to sleep in, but when I don’t sleep in I never regret it. I decided immediately to go. Then I remembered two conditions I was in. The first was that I needed new shoes (which happens more than often). The second was that I possessed cash (which never happens). Hopefully, I thought, both of these conditions would be cured when I left the mall. We decided to go at 1:00 in the afternoon. This gave me time to work out. I started working out because I only want the junk food I eat to be concubines; not wives, if you take my meaning.

Even though I enjoy the feeling after I work out, it takes a good amount of discipline to actually drag myself to the gym and do it. The first week of working out went like this:

I wake up.

“Crap! It’s a workout day…”

I go back to sleep.

Many minutes later, some member of my family screams at me because I do nothing but sleep. I wake up for real. I pick up my workout plan and accidentally drop it, like I’m drunk or something. I pick it back up and realize that I have no idea how to do anything it wants me to do. I look all the exercises up on YouTube.

When I read the comments on the the video I watch, everyone says that the guy is doing it wrong and that the way he is doing it will make your bones crumble into dust. I check another video, but it’s the same everywhere. I eventually settle on one YouTube station that has most exercises on it and the least amount of angry comments. I bike to the YMCA and work out. I am reminded how weak I am, and the music that they play there is an abomination and a hindrance for anyone who wishes to be inspired to work out (think “Lady Gaga”, and also various “stars” from the Disney channel). I go to the locker room where old naked men talk about their nagging wives. I shower and go home. The end.

After my workout, my older sister drove us to the house of the birthday girl. She is the only person I know who has a bigger family than I do; if both of us decided to conquer the earth, I think it might be possible. We would however, need proper (and I do mean Proper -with a capitol ‘P’) weapons of mass destruction, and much coffee. Much, much, much coffee.

The journey to the mall was less like a journey and more like a life-threatening adventure. But to say that is to say nothing at all when my older sister is driving. Three things you must know about her:

She likes her music loud, her speeds fast, and her hair blue. Well, actually her iPod is broken right now because it decided to have some fun in the washing machine….so she can’t have loud music unless she listens to the radio (which doesn’t -thank God- have the indie bands that she likes). After reading this post, she will most likely kill me. Let’s hope she will be just as successful as all the other people who have tried to kill me. Whether nobody has tried to kill me or if a multitude of people has tried to kill me doesn’t matter, because either way they all failed, for I am alive.

At the mall, we did many things. We did things that, if done long enough, would have us thrown out of whatever store we were in. We did not get kicked out though, because we know how to tickle the staff’s nerves without decimating them. It is an art, my friend. An art that must be learned.

When we left the mall, we had our share of fun for the day, but I had a rather sinking feeling. I don’t quite know how it happened, but when I came to the mall I had 40 dollars and the will to buy shoes. When I left the mall, I had a belly full of Godiva shake, a bag in my hand that contained a tube full of loose tea, and 4 dollars. No 40 dollars. No shoes. Just….don’t ask.

After the mall it was time for driver’s education. It was the last day of it, which is good because I was about to shoot myself with my brother’s air soft gun until I died. The only thing that got me through that class was our teacher’s…..rare personality. ‘Nuff said.

Following driver’s ed, my dad let me drive his BMW. It was night time, I had sandals on, and the car is a stick shift. Once again, ’nuff said.

I will end this post with a small verse from a rap song that I heard on the radio that my brother was listening to while he washed some dishes. It really inspired me. Here it is:

B-B-B-B-BB-B-B-B-BB-B-B-B-BB-B-B-B-BB-B-B-B-BB-B-B-B-B

Back it up like a Tonka Truck!

..That’s pretty much the groove of it. Good night.

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