Marc
Brooks, Kentucky
I was up, showered, and out of my hotel room by 4:15 this morning. I was at my first site (which was an hour's drive away) by 5:15. Because I thought they were on Eastern Standard Time (and not on Central Standard Time) I sat in the parking lot for quite a while before anyone arrived. They were surprised to see me. I was surprised at how long it takes for the sun to come up.
I also got wicked lost in West-Central Kentucky this afternoon. I'm talking like I drove two hours to the wrong spot type lost. My computer told me that this town - Hillview - was near a lake in the middle of nowhere; not that it was a southern suburb of Louisville. Oopsies.
I'm watching The Simple Life right now. Those two girls are mega-stupid bitches. I wish I didn't know what Wal-Mart was. I wish I had someone else to do my grocery shopping for me. My list would be: peanut butter (JIF, not crunchy), jelly (squeezable), macaroni and cheese (Kraft), Kool Aid (grape, orange, cherry, black cherry and tropical punch - my personal all-time favorite), Cheez Itz (though not Chili Cheese Itz - they stink*), Oreo cookies (but only if I'm really loaded), milk (2%), Cocoa Krispies (but not Cocoa Puffs), Cheerios (but not Honey Nut Cheerios), and bread (usually the store brand wheat bread).
If you knew nothing about me and you read that list, how old would you think I was?
Scrubs is on now. My favorite character - the janitor - might just be an actor preparing for a role. I think that's genius. I took a shower. My hair is drying and I don't want it to touch my pillow until it does. I hate soggy pillows just about as much as I hate dirty shoes. I've developed a phobia about getting dirty - I don't like it. I used to be the dirtiest guy ever. Now I'm not. I wrote a story last Sunday. It took me a long time, but not as long as you'd think. It was for a grade. I'm a grade-whore. I cried twice last weekend - once while watching a documentary about kids in middle school (specifically during the part where this one 12 year old (?) talks about going through the process of realizing he's a manic depressive), and once while watching a documentary about an 81 year old checker's champ who didn't get married until he was 68 (never even had a date), then went to the national checker's tournament and did pretty well (despite the fact that he's about as drugged up as Whitney Brown, though legally so), then went back to his wife's grave to tell her about how the tournament went and how much fun it was and how he made friends. I was alone the second time.
I need to go to sleep now.
* They stink!
Brooks, Kentucky
I was up, showered, and out of my hotel room by 4:15 this morning. I was at my first site (which was an hour's drive away) by 5:15. Because I thought they were on Eastern Standard Time (and not on Central Standard Time) I sat in the parking lot for quite a while before anyone arrived. They were surprised to see me. I was surprised at how long it takes for the sun to come up.
I also got wicked lost in West-Central Kentucky this afternoon. I'm talking like I drove two hours to the wrong spot type lost. My computer told me that this town - Hillview - was near a lake in the middle of nowhere; not that it was a southern suburb of Louisville. Oopsies.
I'm watching The Simple Life right now. Those two girls are mega-stupid bitches. I wish I didn't know what Wal-Mart was. I wish I had someone else to do my grocery shopping for me. My list would be: peanut butter (JIF, not crunchy), jelly (squeezable), macaroni and cheese (Kraft), Kool Aid (grape, orange, cherry, black cherry and tropical punch - my personal all-time favorite), Cheez Itz (though not Chili Cheese Itz - they stink*), Oreo cookies (but only if I'm really loaded), milk (2%), Cocoa Krispies (but not Cocoa Puffs), Cheerios (but not Honey Nut Cheerios), and bread (usually the store brand wheat bread).
If you knew nothing about me and you read that list, how old would you think I was?
Scrubs is on now. My favorite character - the janitor - might just be an actor preparing for a role. I think that's genius. I took a shower. My hair is drying and I don't want it to touch my pillow until it does. I hate soggy pillows just about as much as I hate dirty shoes. I've developed a phobia about getting dirty - I don't like it. I used to be the dirtiest guy ever. Now I'm not. I wrote a story last Sunday. It took me a long time, but not as long as you'd think. It was for a grade. I'm a grade-whore. I cried twice last weekend - once while watching a documentary about kids in middle school (specifically during the part where this one 12 year old (?) talks about going through the process of realizing he's a manic depressive), and once while watching a documentary about an 81 year old checker's champ who didn't get married until he was 68 (never even had a date), then went to the national checker's tournament and did pretty well (despite the fact that he's about as drugged up as Whitney Brown, though legally so), then went back to his wife's grave to tell her about how the tournament went and how much fun it was and how he made friends. I was alone the second time.
I need to go to sleep now.
* They stink!
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