I just missed out on going to the States with Elaine and her family. My stomach aches, no doubt thanks to a delicious-yet-unnecessary toasted Western I had at lunch. You see, my stomach has had quite a glorious history of sucking:
When I was about fourteen I decided that water was boring. I desired sugars and bubbles and all sorts of fancy things not found in bland, adventureless water. Thus I turned to Coke, Crystal Light, and probably juice boxes or something. I don't know. Let me tell you, kids, when your body tells you to drink water, I stress that one must actually drink water. My body wanted it, but I was too stupid to realize it. I even made my grandparents take me to the local pool so I could swim, which was completely out-of-character - if you don't know me, I am the least sea-worthy person on the planet. I didn't listen to my body and paid for it in spades. To make a long story short, I ended up in the hospital with very severe dehydration. I was in there for a good few days, and my parents were none too pleased with my predicament. Following my stint in the hospital, returning to normal, I realized "Oh shits, my stomach, it hurts when I have the milk products." Turns out, lactose intolerance is sometimes an offshoot of dehydration. Fun times.
Beyond that, I ate a box of Certs in a few days when I was about fifteen, and essentially turned my stomach's fluid from an acid to a base. To this day I can't swallow spit from gum, toothpaste, or eat acidic or minty things much. Also, eggs give me issues. Ergo, the problem with the delicious toasted Western.
Back to why I didn't make it to the lovely state of New York this evening:
Aside from my stomach being in vague, recurring agony, I also wasn't too sure on whether or not my license would be sufficient I.D. to enter the country. Elaine's parents assured me it would, but my stomach and lack of identification said no. Also, her brother mentioned that if it didn't work out, they could leave me at duty-free for a few hours. I like him.
Moving on to other matters...
No more "rock-out with the drop-out" parties, at least for a few months - I'm going back to school! I finally signed up for classes, so I should change the "school status" bit at the top to "attending!" or something equally nifty. I'm not - as I had hoped - a film student, but meh. My course load is interesting and easy, so I doubt I'll be stressing half as much as I did in first year. BA in Gen. Arts, here I come.
In a related note, my Super Nintendo time will be severely cut this year to prevent any...mishaps.
We got a hamster, Elaine and I. Well, she bought it, but as long as it's here littering my floor with errant shavings, it is mine as well. Here're two pics of her. We bought her at SuperPet under a week ago and she's already spoiled. I mean, check out her goddamn cage, seriously. She loves the fucking tubes way too much. Her name is Bantha, a name clearly used in upper-class circles. It was either Bantha, Hermione, or Adi Gallia, so I think our choice was the best of the three (or lesser of three evils?).
Speaking of girlfriends and animals, Elaine moves in September. The animal being the cat, who she cared for over the summer. Pepsi, insane stinkbomb of a cat, I salute you. For you have not scratched me in a way that would draw blood, as any other cat surely would have. But man, do you ever reek. At SuperPet we were standing in line while getting Bantha, and Elaine said to me, "Oh, hey, a robot litterbox!" I told her that as good an idea as it sounds, people have not had good times going down that road.
A few things before I go:
- This pleases me.
- This is handy, if it works. I'll have to try it in the library.
- This is the best picture I have seen in a long while. (Yes, it's old. I forgot about it.)
- And this demands your attention immediately.
See you in September, perchance.
Moment of Zen: "You mean there's a course called Listening to Music? Sign me up for that shit!"