No Title (no topic)
I woke very slowly as the tendrils of my dreams released their grip on my mind. The perfect clarity of their logic faded, and I slowly realized that vulcans had not taken over the US senate. As my mind returned to reality, I was surprised to remember that there really were no vulcans, that I could not fly, and that I wasn't incredibly wealthy after all. Concluding that reallity was a pathetic waste of time, I turned over and tried to go back to sleep.
Sleep was gone however, so I rose to greet the abysmal grey morning. A light drizzle fell outside, the kind of drizzle that promises to stay for a very, very long time. Puddles covered the road, the sidewalk, and the lawn, which had turned into a miniature version of the everglade swamps.
Looking at the clock I was pleased to see that I had risen at the early hour of ten. The dorm was quiet, save for the sound of an alarm clock buzzing several doors down. I had often wondered if there was a person in that room, or if the room belonged to the alarm clock. Surely if there was a resident of some sort the alarm would not carry on the way it did. The alarm usually started buzzing at 6:45 every morning, calling like the disembodied voice of all unheeded alarms. It would keep buzzing for several hours, going through various stages of guilt, denial and self loathing until it finally decided life wasn't worth living at around 9:00 and shut up.
Apparently the alarm also had a spring break schedule. This schedule was very much like the normal schedule, except that it began later. Hopefully the alarm would silence itself by noon.
I showered, dressed and prepared to meet the day. Looking about the room I realized that I needed to go shopping. This was very unfortunate, since the local store closed at noon every friday. Looking at the clock again I saw that it was after 11:00. I would have to hurry.
Grabbing an umbrella I left the dorm and walked across the street to the Village Market. The parking lot was full of people preparing for Sabbath. There seemed to be a great urgency among them, as if Christ was about to appear in the clouds of glory and they wanted to stock up on vegemeat while they still could.
I went inside the store and began my shopping excursion like a military operation. Specifically, I conducted it like the US occupation of Iraq. I stormed in, quickly grabbed a few items, and declared victory. Some time later I found myself bogged down in the cleaning products aisle wondering if I should or should not get a copper mesh pot scrubber.
After several changes of policy and a bit of griping about Iran, I managed to extract myself from the store and return to the dorm. Heading inside I quickly made my way to the hall kitchen, where I stored perishable items in the fridge. I contemplated writing my name on them, but concluded that this would be a futile effort. I had written my name on other items in the communal fridge before. Unfortunately this had just given low lifes the ability to taunt me with the remains of my food by stuffing empty boxes under my door with notes saying "Mmmmm! good pizza!". No, the best strategy was to consume the food as fast as possible. Male college students should be treated like bacteria: destructive and foul smelling but easily foiled by anyone with a double digit IQ and some alcohol. That and laxatives, lots of laxatives.
I pondered the laxatives. Perhaps it would be worth my time to try the idea. I could spike some of the food in the fridge with laxatives, sacrificing some of my meager resources in order to bring pain, suffering and explosive diarrhea to some already unpleasant individual. Of course, I could also put up a sign warning that some of my food contained laxatives. The latter would probably result in all of my food being dumped in the trash, which would be unfortunate.
For the moment I needed to begin the task of breakfast. Returning to my room I retrieved some cereal and a bowl. In the kitchen I poured the milk I had just purchased and commenced to eat the cereal quickly. By my third or fourth bite I noticed that this particular milk was somewhat odd. Slowing my chewing to a reasonable pace I pondered the milk. It was sour. Very sour. So sour in fact that it's texture had been affected. I quickly ran to the trash can and spat out as much of the unpleasant mess as I could. Picking up the offending container of milk I looked at the expiration date. It was two weeks away, as would be expected of newly purchased milk.
I concluded that this entire situation was the fault of the mighty retail giant across the street: the Village Market. Receipt in hand I marched back to the store, intent on getting some unspoiled milk. Halfway there I stopped to ponder the situation. Suddenly a great horror dawned upon me. I looked down at the container of milk and confirmed my suspicions. I had purchased a container of buttermilk. I sheepishly returned to the dorm.
The alarm had stopped, and the dorm had begun to awaken. The air was filled with a light hum as the students turned on their showers, stereos and gaming systems. I returned to the silence of my room and sat down to study.
The entire situation would have been much better if vulcans controlled the US senate.
Sleep was gone however, so I rose to greet the abysmal grey morning. A light drizzle fell outside, the kind of drizzle that promises to stay for a very, very long time. Puddles covered the road, the sidewalk, and the lawn, which had turned into a miniature version of the everglade swamps.
Looking at the clock I was pleased to see that I had risen at the early hour of ten. The dorm was quiet, save for the sound of an alarm clock buzzing several doors down. I had often wondered if there was a person in that room, or if the room belonged to the alarm clock. Surely if there was a resident of some sort the alarm would not carry on the way it did. The alarm usually started buzzing at 6:45 every morning, calling like the disembodied voice of all unheeded alarms. It would keep buzzing for several hours, going through various stages of guilt, denial and self loathing until it finally decided life wasn't worth living at around 9:00 and shut up.
Apparently the alarm also had a spring break schedule. This schedule was very much like the normal schedule, except that it began later. Hopefully the alarm would silence itself by noon.
I showered, dressed and prepared to meet the day. Looking about the room I realized that I needed to go shopping. This was very unfortunate, since the local store closed at noon every friday. Looking at the clock again I saw that it was after 11:00. I would have to hurry.
Grabbing an umbrella I left the dorm and walked across the street to the Village Market. The parking lot was full of people preparing for Sabbath. There seemed to be a great urgency among them, as if Christ was about to appear in the clouds of glory and they wanted to stock up on vegemeat while they still could.
I went inside the store and began my shopping excursion like a military operation. Specifically, I conducted it like the US occupation of Iraq. I stormed in, quickly grabbed a few items, and declared victory. Some time later I found myself bogged down in the cleaning products aisle wondering if I should or should not get a copper mesh pot scrubber.
After several changes of policy and a bit of griping about Iran, I managed to extract myself from the store and return to the dorm. Heading inside I quickly made my way to the hall kitchen, where I stored perishable items in the fridge. I contemplated writing my name on them, but concluded that this would be a futile effort. I had written my name on other items in the communal fridge before. Unfortunately this had just given low lifes the ability to taunt me with the remains of my food by stuffing empty boxes under my door with notes saying "Mmmmm! good pizza!". No, the best strategy was to consume the food as fast as possible. Male college students should be treated like bacteria: destructive and foul smelling but easily foiled by anyone with a double digit IQ and some alcohol. That and laxatives, lots of laxatives.
I pondered the laxatives. Perhaps it would be worth my time to try the idea. I could spike some of the food in the fridge with laxatives, sacrificing some of my meager resources in order to bring pain, suffering and explosive diarrhea to some already unpleasant individual. Of course, I could also put up a sign warning that some of my food contained laxatives. The latter would probably result in all of my food being dumped in the trash, which would be unfortunate.
For the moment I needed to begin the task of breakfast. Returning to my room I retrieved some cereal and a bowl. In the kitchen I poured the milk I had just purchased and commenced to eat the cereal quickly. By my third or fourth bite I noticed that this particular milk was somewhat odd. Slowing my chewing to a reasonable pace I pondered the milk. It was sour. Very sour. So sour in fact that it's texture had been affected. I quickly ran to the trash can and spat out as much of the unpleasant mess as I could. Picking up the offending container of milk I looked at the expiration date. It was two weeks away, as would be expected of newly purchased milk.
I concluded that this entire situation was the fault of the mighty retail giant across the street: the Village Market. Receipt in hand I marched back to the store, intent on getting some unspoiled milk. Halfway there I stopped to ponder the situation. Suddenly a great horror dawned upon me. I looked down at the container of milk and confirmed my suspicions. I had purchased a container of buttermilk. I sheepishly returned to the dorm.
The alarm had stopped, and the dorm had begun to awaken. The air was filled with a light hum as the students turned on their showers, stereos and gaming systems. I returned to the silence of my room and sat down to study.
The entire situation would have been much better if vulcans controlled the US senate.
posted by Milton at 1:50 PM
1 Comments:
That's right. Although I don't know about the Vulcans part, I do know that that was I good joke I played on you. Hope you didn't get a stomach ache from the milk of magnesia in the "milk" :)
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