Actually, in most cases that's very depressing. Then again, maybe I just have some very stupid friends. Kind of makes you wonder what we started at, huh? They must have been some serious assholes.
I realize it's been a while since the last blog, but I went on vacation. Sue me.* For those of you who haven't forgotten about me, lost interest, or been hit by a car, I thank you for sticking with me. Don't forget to click the white button over to the right to Follow.
*Please don't.
So we're officially back in the school year. As I recently tweeted, if your fifth year in college is called a Victory Lap then I'll be doing a Victory Mile. Luckily for you people going to college is and endless source of Daily Tablet material. But let's not get ahead of ourselves, we still have my wonderful summer to talk about.
This is a long story, so I'm breaking it up for you. See if you can hold on during the page breaks.
As some of you may know, I recently went to California. I basically traveled the entire state and had many wonderful experiences. However, wonderful experiences are rarely funny, so you don't get to hear about those. Instead, I'm going to tell you about one of the most hellish adventures I've ever been on.
Have you ever thought that some place was only an hour away, but a friend corrects you (they've always gotta be right, don't they?) and says it's not one, but four hours away, so naturally you google it to see who's right. Smarty McJerkpants is right, of course (he's such a douche), and you're left to ponder how you managed to forget about three whole hours of the trip. Don't feel bad, you probably just have short-term memory loss or amnesia. Either way, you were wrong. Very wrong. This is essentially what happen to me, except in my case being wrong resulted in me losing movement in my legs and getting more dehydrated than I have ever been before. I didn't cry though.*
*Might be false.
So the apartment that I was staying at, we'll call it Never Never Land, is a bit farther than, well, any other place of residence in the entire city of Chico. Actually, it might not even be within city limits. I don't have the evidence to prove that, just go with it. Anyway, the story begins when jolly old Tab wakes up one morning alone in the apartment. I knew the roommates were at work/gone/etc for a while so I figured, why not go on a little run? I thought I'd just take a nice little relaxing jog back to my other friends' house in Chico. It's only about a mile, right? WRONG. SO WRONG. SO WRONG IT HURTS. If I could go back in time (and I'm working on it), the first thing I would do is go back to that exact moment and threaten my own life to deter me from going on that excruciatingly painful "jog". I honestly might even knock myself unconscious. However, time travel does not yet exist, and thus I left on the run. Oh yes, did I mention that I elected not to eat anything before I went? Yea, and we all know how well I function without food. It's like the planets aligned to ruin my life.
Anyway, I took a couple gulps of water and took off without stretching (cause everyone knows stretching's for pansies). Off I went, like Little Red Freaking Riding Hood off to her grandmother's house. In hindsight, I would have gladly taken on a talking wolf rather than finish that run. So there I am, running at a completely irrational pace with twice the grace of a gazelle. That lasted for about the first mile, if even. Then I start thinking to myself, "This road is a lot longer than I thought it was. I don't even recognize this area." I even thought I was lost at one point, so naturally I kept running straight. A couple miles in I'm really starting to overheat, keep in mind I started this run at a full sprint. Also, it's roughly 97 degrees outside, which to me felt like the inside of a brick oven, which for those of you who don't know, average out at about 3,000 degrees.**
**Complete guess.
Another mile passes and I start to recognize where I am, but at this point I'm not even excited about it. If I hadn't recognized where I was, I probably would've started walking but since I did, the male ego reared its idiotic head and said, "Keep running, bitch. Only nancy boys give up when you're this close." Of course I listened and kept running. I make it about four more blocks before I realize that I'm so dehydrated that I'm not even sweating anymore. That's right, I'm completely dry. Normally you would stop here, but my twisted mind approaches the situation by pointing out that because I'm dry, people will see me and think I haven't been running long at all. Yes I realize that's absolutely retarded, but I'm not exactly thinking straight at this point. So I keep moving. I call it "moving" because what I'm doing here can't even be called "running".
Now, if you can believe it, is where it gets interesting. Usually when I run I avoid people in wheelchairs/motorized scooters like the black plague. Why? Because when I jog pass them I feel like I might as well dance in front of them for a couple seconds singing, "Look what I can do!!! I can do this and you can't and that's why you suck!!" Irrational? Possibly, but that's how I feel. So I see this elderly lady in a motorized scooter driving down a cross street, directly toward my path. I panic, there's no way I'm gonna let her get there before me cause then I'd have to pass her. So I pick up speed, probably to about 1.5 mph but it felt like I was sprinting, and the only thought is to beat her to the corner, then I can slow down again.
You can stop holding your breath cause guess what? I beat her there. Usain Bolt would've have even been impressed. Now I can slow down again. Problem solved, right? Wrong again. You're 0 for 2 here. I didn't realize that this was no ordinary old lady, this was Danica Patrick driving a motor scooter with six gears and a turbo boost. This lady was haulin like the Grim Reaper was hot on her tail. It took about seven seconds before she started catching up to me. I don't know if this was some kind of sick twist on Karma or something but I almost broke down. Screw the planets, it's like the galaxies aligned to kill me. Literally the only thing that saved me was that she was going to a grocery store one block down. I have never loved Safeway more than I did right then.
After all this, I'm on the home stretch. I can virtually see the finish line. I am less than eight blocks away, and I'm starting to feel a little better. Honestly that was probably just the dehydration making me a little delirious. Regardless, I feel better and just as I'm thinking, "I've got this shit" I get a knock out punch. A little kid on a mother effing Razor Scooters goes blasting past me. And that's not even the worst part. The real kick in the nuts came when he chuckled as he rode past and asked, "Havin' trouble there?" DAMN THE RAZOR SCOOTERS. All of them! That's like somebody passing you on a pogo stick or a fucking unicycle.. It only solidifies the fact that you are traveling at less than 1 mph. I didn't give up, but I did turn the corner. There was no way I was going to watch that little punk ride off ahead of me. If I'd had a stick, rock, or grenade, I would've thrown it at him. After that nothing really interesting happens for the rest of the run, besides my face plant into the hardwood floor at my friends house. The whole point behind this is that I just wanted to teach you all a very valuable lesson: Razor Scooters are the devil.
I didn't realized that'd take up so much room, so I'm gonna break it up and put the rest of the shtuff on the next blog. Deal with it.
Fact of the Day: Club Direct, a travel insurance company in Britain, provides insurance plans for protection from falling coconuts.
Shout out to Cxadi Angus.
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