I threw up on campus the other morning – 8 times to be exact. I felt like that girl in the Tigerland parking lot. One of many events that culminated into the worst day of my life.
I guess the day started around midnight, well I don’t guess it actually started. Any-who, I stayed up all night long trying to study my two tests.
Ha, that happened. In actuality, I spent five hours snuggling with my lady friend on the couch.
She didn’t let me sleep either because she kept deflating, and I had to blow her up like six times.
Ya see women . . . I’m a giver.
At 5:30 a.m. I decided to take a shower in attempts to wake up. However, I have an interesting conditioned response to fall asleep in the shower. Ever since I was little, I’ve always just fallen asleep in the tub. No biggie, it’s actually quite relaxing.
One problem, I’m used to a big tub/shower-head combo which allows for ample sleeping space, but the bathroom in my new apartment only has a shower stall.
Seeing as how I’m a burly guy, curling up in only nine square feet was difficult to say the least, but I managed.
I woke up an hour and a half later, only to find that my ass had been covering the drain. My bathroom was flooded, but the worst thing was my legs were dead. Not asleep, oh no, worse than asleep; way worse-dead. I couldn’t stand up.
I had to just sit there, paralyzed from the waist down, watching the water flow over the shallow tub onto my bathroom floor.
Fifteen minutes later I’m able to stand. I turn the water off and take my first weak step out of the shower.
Yeah, I slipped. I grabbed the shower curtain in a frantic attempt to save myself from certain peril.
The shower curtain was my life line. I clinched tight to the “Sponge-Bob Square Pants” plastic sheet, and as if in slow motion I watched the shower curtain rings stretch and then break.
I came crashing down to the floor-well mostly the floor; my jaw hit the toilet seat. It hurt, but I got up … eventually.
I got dressed and decided that a Mickey D’s breakfast might stop this bad karma in it’s tracks; after all, it is Mickey D’s.
Wrong again. Though the sausage biscuit was quite delicious, the grease coupled with my weak and tired body proved disastrous.
I barely made it through my 8:30 mid-term before I had to run out and puke my guts out in a trash can. Hey, look it’s Mickey D’s.
Walking from the MDA building to the Reveille office in Hodges hall, I threw up seven more times.
To the driver of a gray, late eighties Oldsmobile touring sudan parked in the lot next to Lockett, I’m sorry about the mess.
This is all before 10 a.m.-just go back to sleep.
Oh yeah, she said no.