Brief Shizzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

So I have not been feeling especiallay well for the past several days. I am not sure exactly why this is the case, but it seems illegit. I came home from my meeting last evening feeling fine, but Katie was all sick and shit. Like 2 hours later I was all sleepy and sicky and whatiz. I know that technically I could have gotten sick from her before she was displaying symptoms, hence why I got sick like 2 hours later. Nonetheless, it feels like I got sick within two hours, which fucking sucks it, and doesn't seem legit. So while I was going to write both last night and earlier this eve I did not because I hit the sack pretty early.

If I just felt really tired this evening I wouldn't be upset, since this day was fucking way too busy. I got up at quarter after ass in the morning, went to take a shower because I needed something to wake me up, and there was no shower curtain. We happen to have selected the worst goddamn shower curtain rings in the fucking world. You wouldn't think that there would really be too much difference amongst shower curtain rings, but the ones we have take more fucking work to open and clip close than you can possibly imagine. Its fucked up, it takes like 10 minutes of serious work, you have to stand up and shit, working with your hands always above your head, you end up sweating just becasue of how fucking awkward it is. Regardless, I didn't decide to put up the shower curtain. I watched some SportsCenter as per usual, but nonetheless, I was thrown off, the whole morning jacked in the nuts from the outset. Its like that episode of Seninfeld where George has a shower that doesn't take. I have often had that experience as well, I fucking hate it when you shower and don't feel all zest-fuckly clean and shit, but that is not the point.

After that I went over to Midas, since the car was shaking at higher speeds for a little while. I also needed to get my brakes checked out since the fucking assdicks at Mazda for not making it adequately clear when the break pads are wearing down. Anyway, turns out the breaks were fine, but the problem was apparently with the tires, which were wearing oddly. In some ways it is helpful, since I was really sick of attempting to not spend random ass fucking amounts of money on random shit that I don't really want to pay for, this was more fun. Well, I wasn't prepared to buy tires there, obviously, so I went to school. On the way to school we hit a milestone in my lifetime of car ownership--100,000 miles. I can point to exactly where it happened, near the blue house on the corner of two streets that none of you have ever fucking heard of. I was hoping that I would organize it a little better so that I could do it somewhere cool, a drive through or whatever, but I had to get to school and there were still too many miles to justify circling around a parking lot when it happened.

I really wanted to do something wacky largely in remembrance of what we did for mi amigo Steve's car way back in the day. Steve spent all the moeny he didn't use for cigarettes or bottled water or random world music on gas because pretty much he just drove around. I went with him much of the time, admittedly. My sophomore year I think I spent one out of 2 or 3 nights in this pursuit. We drove, smoked, talked about random shit which ranged from chicas to Prince to describing the plot for the detective film we planned to make entitled "Drake Bubsby's Penis is the Antidote for Poisonous Vaginas." Anyway, Steve managed to get this car to 100,000 miles in like 3 or four years from brand spanking new, and I think it only left the state of Minnesota two or three times. My guess is that 93,000 of those miles were in the Twin Cities and 50,000+ were just driving around at random, smoking. So when the car got within 50 miles or so of the 100K we decided to celebrate. We planned a little picnic, we got some illegit champagne (because we were under 21 still, all of us who were likely to be around that night at least), and drove to the bluffs down in Hopkins. Rough memory says to me that the final crew ended up being me, Steve, Maroney, Andy, and my brother. It may have even involved a couple others, Kevin or something, because I think we actually took two cars to get to the bluffs. Once we got there, since we had budgeted some extra miles, but slightly overbudged, we ended up with like 10 miles still to go. We all got into Steve's car and drove around the parking lot, which was bare-ass empty. It was not only a litte late at night, but also late in the year, so it was too chilly for many people to be around. I think there was actually only one couple wandering around and they left, maybe not coincedentally, after we had driven 20 or 30 ciricles around the lot. We had stored the champagne in the other car, so we weren't too worried about cops (none of us had had a drop at this point) but we would have been a prime target, its hard to believe 6 sober 19-20 year olds would drive around a park parking lot some Tuesday night. We had also determined that we needed a specific song to commemorate that moment. We had a pretty obvious selection, since the only music we listened to more than random Kenyan-Aboriginal-Brazillian-Scottish music etc., was the Spice Girls. Nothing better to commemorate the exact moment where we turned the odometer over than hearing Scary shout "Soooo, I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want." It was a classic moment. We picniced and partied the night away from that point onwards, but it was a great noche.

I would go on, but am watching Angel before I go to sleep and need to enjoy without distraction. Maybe I will hit some en la manana before we go to Marist, but thats it for now.

Peace,

MB-K