Yeah, yeah, calm down. I know its been awhile. If I had the time to sit down and write, I would!! I'm trying here, people. But due to the many texts and e-mails I have received, I suppose I can come up with something...
(This first part I actually started writing a while back but never finished)
Its been quite the week, friends and countrymen! It included medical issues up the wazoo, starting with the wonderful gift of food poisoning early this week...whoop-de-freaking-doo. I felt funny on Monday after work and decided against going to my 7 pm discussion. Turns out I have killer instincts because had I gone, I would have created what would have been the most embarrassing moment of my 20-year existence; puking in front of 23 philosophy students. Sorry, I'll stop the details from going any further. The saddest part in this whole experience was that I got sick from a bad salad. A salad. If I'm going to get poisoning, I could have at least gone out with a bang. With a food I actually enjoy eating (you know, like a hot dog or chimichanga). Confession: I don't even know nor have I tasted what a chimichanga is. I just like the way it sounds. So Monday and Tuesday I was out of commission, having no appetite and living off of saltines and free online TV streaming.
I was feeling better for about 2.7 hours, that is until I woke up on Wednesday with a plugged ear. No big deal, I thought. Happens all the time. Well folks, 2 days later and the ear was still. popped. I scoured wikepedia and scoured every solution and home remedy to popping one's ears. And I tried it all. Drinking water upside down, forcing myself to yawn continuously, chewing enormous wads of bubblegum, even something called the "Vasaca" method. (??) Nothing. Worked. This was slightly more dramatic than it should have been because I was growing nearer and nearer to my Thursday night Cru meeting (where I have been helping with worship...yeah. Thats a whole different story) and I could not hear myself sing out of one ear.
UPDATE: 2 weeks later, and the ear still goes in and out of plug-ness. Thinking I should have gone to the doctor a while ago. (2nd Confession of this Post: I have a slight, no huge, fear of going to the doctor on my own in college. So there you have it.)
Enough about my health problems, I am just 20 after all. A more light and humorous moment in my week involved a man and toilet paper (and you thought I was done talking about "health problems"...). Biking home and taking in my Davis-surroundings, I spotted a man. Dapperly dressed, suit and tie, briefcase in hand (no, it wasn't Eric). But cradled in his arm like a newborn baby, was a Costco 24-pack of Angel Soft. Toilet paper. Between his outfit and the t.p., I had no choice but to dream up what could possibly be going on in that man's life at that very moment. Perhaps he was on his way to a "Bring Your Own TP" business meeting. Maybe he was preparing himself for the end times. I'm open to your interpretations.
Another reason why I have been away from you wonderful cow-tippers, is because I was at Fall Retreat. It was a short and sweet weekend away from the cow smell and into the great outdoors. And sadly, the camp food was better than anything I've eaten all year. I did learn that I have a *slight* fear of raccoons. A few of us were huddled around a dying campfire in complete darkness, and they thought it would be fun to turn on their flashlights at random times in an effort to spot the 'coons. Well, every time they did this it elicited more and more screams from yours truly, as each time the light flashed the raccoon seemed to be closer and closer to us. Of course, all they really wanted was our leftover s'mores, but I was wholeheartedly convinced that they would have eaten me, had they the chance.
The only reason I had any wish to stay at the coon-infested campsite, was because my roommates and I knew that when we returned home, our house would be painted. And not just re-painted--painted a completely different color. Not a big deal, until we started noticing the color scheme they were going with on the rest of the apartments. Some were blue, some were gray, some were purple. And some were orange. We kept telling ourselves that as long as we didn't return home to an orange house, we would be fine with the color change. Who wants to guess what happened next?
Our house. Is. Orange.
I've never been a fan of this particular color myself, but I would have been fine with a light orange. A muted orange. A tan orange. But this is what my roommates and I have described this orange as: "a pumpkin spice latte", "cheap tanning lotion", and this gem, "someone throwing up cheap tanning lotion". Does that sound like a pleasant shade of orange to you?! It is revolting. Our coping technique is telling ourselves that they only did it as an act of festivity for Halloween. Or as a tribute to the Giants winning the World Series. (Surprised I know the Giants won? Me too).
I hope that helped my deprived faithful followers. I'm trying trying to be more consistent! Oh, and Happy Halloween Eve!! Tomorrow is Halloween and you know that must mean I have some tricks up my sleeve...I'm going to see an Improv show on campus--either it will be good and I will laugh, or it will fail miserably and I'll still laugh. A win-win.
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