Tuesday, April 24, 2007

How Going to Class Early Can Affect the Health of Your Butt

Andy and I had some time to kill before class yesterday. Like, a lot of time. Like, close to an hour. Somehow, randomly, we found ourselves just sitting outside the Dowd building discussing things like freestyle walking. Anyway, long story short, we discovered that, for some unknown reason, the Dowd building's facade is complete with bricks which are not flush with the wall, allowing one to potentially scale the side of the building, should he possess the desire or stupidity to attempt it.

I have one or the other. Probably the latter.

No, no... definitely the latter.

Anyway, I tackled the wall head-on and went up. It wasn't easy--the wall obviously is not meant to be climbed--but I managed to get a little ways off the ground. Below me, I heard Andy requesting my assistance. He was trying to recreate a chalk outline on the wall with his body. I was needed to judge, so I let my feet off, did a free-hang for a few seconds, and then let go.

I thought I was only a couple feet off the ground, so I was surprised to not feel my feet simply hitting the ground almost immediately. It was like that sensation you get when you're going down the stairs at night and you think you're at the last one, but (much to your surprise) your foot does not touch the floor. And then you stumble forward awkwardly, right? Imagine that, except you're probably six-to-eight feet off the ground, you're facing a brick wall, and there is concrete below you.

My feet struck the ground flat and my knees buckled. Out of control, I fell backward clumsily and my left buttock collided unceremoniously with the cement. Pens and pencils tumbled out of my shirt pocket, making me feel like even more of a nerd. I laughed (it was all I could do to save a slight bit of face, were anyone watching) and sprung back to my feet quickly. Pain coursed through my ass.

Sidenote: I'd rather not ever write, speak, or think that sentence again.

I gave up on my Human Fly act, and we went to class. Throughout the exam I was taking, I felt the pain everytime I shifted in my seat. The last thing I wanted to do at that point was sit still for two hours taking a grammar exam. At the one-hour mark, I got up and went to the bathroom, more to attempt to "walk it off" than to expel urine. I suffered through it, though, and aced that f'ing exam. No doubt about it. I'm a real trooper.

Anyway, when I got home I went into the bathroom and examined myself in my full-length mirror. Again, another sentence that should not be written, spoken, or thought of again. In any case, I discovered I had incurred purpleness on my behind. Purpleness! Today, the purpleness has subsided, but it's still sore.

My stupidity about wanting to climb the wall, though, has turned into desire. Or maybe it's just a greater degree of stupidity. Whatever it is, I know that I want to scale the side of that building before I graduate. Anyone have a safety net?

Saturday, April 21, 2007

Playoff Machination Advice Necessitated

The Sabres have quickly disposed of the New York Islanders and advanced to round two of the Stanley Cup Playoffs. Awesome. However, they did not play overly well in knocking off the Islanders. Sure, they won four games out of five, but they didn't completely hammer New York like they should have. Oh well, the second round is on the horizon anyway, whether the Islanders got trashed or not.

Anyway, I need some input on my personal role in the playoff journey. The playoff beard is filling out nicely, but it also looks kind of stupid and is very itchy. I have thought about shaving it, or at least trimming it substantially, multiple times over the past ten days. But I'm worried that I would be defeating the purpose of the playoff beard were I to do so.

The Sabres' second-round series won't begin until at least next Friday. Would I be doing the franchise a major disservice if I were to trim between now and then, and then allow unmitigated growth once again during the next series? Would that be a lame-o's way out?

Let me know, kids. Buffalo's Stanley Cup hopes may depend on it.

Friday, April 13, 2007

15 More Wins to the Cup

The Buffalo Sabres opened their NHL playoff run last night with a decisive 4-1 win over the New York Islanders. The game wasn't even that close. It should have been 6- or 7-1. The Sabres just looked that freaking good. This is the year, baby. This is finally the year.

Two things you should know about my role in their potential championship journey: 1) I am not shaving for the duration of the playoffs, and 2) I am wearing my Sabres t-shirt non-stop (except for showering, of course) until it's all over. Just FYI.

And if they don't win it all this year, I will kill myself. Again, FYI.

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

And Now for Something Completely Disgusting

Here's a fun story that just screams "blog me!"

I was at Megan's for a good portion of yesterday. And by a good portion of I mean all of. If there's one thing that happens while I'm over there for an extended period of time, it's that I eat. I eat a lot. She cooks meals. She makes sandwiches. She gives me ice cream. Yesterday, we even baked brownies. That was a new one. But anyway, long story short, we eat a lot of food. We also gossip and watch TV. And paint each other's toenails. Maybe not that last one. At least not yet.

Anyway, I had a little bit of a headache early yesterday afternoon, but I didn't think too much of it. I've had a little bit of a headache every day for the past five days or so. No biggie. I get a lot of headaches. Usually they go away after I take a couple aspirin, or get some food in my stomach, or take a little nap. I took a couple of Advil when we got back from grocery shopping yesterday afternoon, and I felt a little bit better. That didn't last too long, though, so I took a nap on the couch. I woke up in time for dinner, and I felt a little bit better again, so I ate a good healthy portion of chicken, broccoli, and potatoes. Then it was back to the couch for some more TV, but the headache came back. With a vengeance. And this time nausea came with it.

I mentioned that I ate chicken, broccoli, and potatoes for dinner. I didn't mention that, over the rest of the day at her place, I ate the following: an egg salad sandwich, some Doritos, a couple brownies, and a bowl of cookies-and-cream ice cream. There are probably even other things I am forgetting. Tack on a can of Diet Pepsi, a couple of juice boxes, and a cup of tea, and I was one full little boy.

The little headache had turned into a full-blown migraine by about 8:00 PM, and resting was not doing me much good. I realized I should probably go home and be miserable there by myself, instead of continuing to lay on the couch and be a bad houseguest, but I wasn't looking forward to the getting up and driving home part. So I laid on the couch until almost 9:00, when I finally conceded and decided to hit the road.

Now, here comes the good part.

I got into the car and started driving home. It is not a long drive from Meg's apartment to mine: three minutes, tops. I was only to the end of her street, though, when I realized I was going to puke. I was going to puke a lot. Now, I've puked a lot in my life. Probably more than all of you combined. The physical act of puking doesn't even bother me any more. Puke itself is gross, yes, but as long as it is in the toilet bowl or on the side of the road or something, I don't care about it. Since I've puked so much in my life, I've developed a pretty good sense of how long I have before I can't hold it in anymore. Normally, if I'm in the car and I have to puke, I'll pull over and just let fly in a ditch or something. I was in the middle of the city of Cortland, though, and I didn't think that would be appropriate. I decided that I could handle it until I got home like two minutes later.

No such luck.

Coming down Court Street, I gagged and some vomit escaped my esophagus into my mouth. I put my hand over my mouth, choked the puke back, and hoped that was the end of it. Was I ever wrong. Two seconds later, that little bit of puke made a comeback and brought a ton of its friends with it. BLAHHHH!!! Thankfully, I had kept my hand over my mouth and that blocked a lot of the grossness from getting too far. A lot did escape, though, all down the front of my jacket, inside my jacket and down my sweatshirt, and all over my pants. The steering wheel gleamed in the streetlights, vomit streams running down it. I looked over to the console and saw that some had deflected over there, infilitrating the shifter and the cupholders.

I kept my hand over the mouth for the remainder of the trip home and imagined the horror on the face of the driver next to me at the stoplight, if he had happened to look over and catch a glimpse of my vomit-soaked face and body. When I got home a couple minutes later, I immediately stripped my coat off and threw it on the ground outside my house. I ran inside, puked out anything that might have been remaining inside me, washed my hands and my face, and called Megan. I needed someone to come clean out my car. I obviously was in no condition.

She refused. Puke, apparently, is not her "thing." Thanks.

So it was up to me. I stripped out of my puke-covered clothing and took a quick shower. Needless to say, it was much needed. Putting on clean, vomit-free clothing, I searched in vain for appropriate cleaning supplies. At Carrie's suggestion, I used glass cleaner. I sprayed the steering wheel, the console, and the seat. Yes, much to my chagrin, I discovered a couple puddles of puke on the driver's seat. Spray spray spray, wipe wipe wipe, and the puke was gone.

I went out to the car this morning to get some books. The scent of vomit is faint, but it definitely is there. The windows are cracked open today, and hopefully the crisp April air will remove the odor. What an ordeal.

This is possibly the worst thing that has ever happened to me. And this from the guy who once got trampled by a bull. But that's another story for another day.

Monday, April 2, 2007

*exasperated sigh*

Do some people just have no regard for the people around them? Let's compare me to this girl who is sitting at the other end of my row in the computer lab, shall we?

Me: I received a phone call earlier in the day. There were not a lot of people in the computer lab at the time, but I still think it is very rude to carry on a telephone conversation while people around me are trying to work. I'll even take this to "while people are around me at all"--if I'm visiting someone and my phone rings, I will take it into another room to answer, if I even deem it is necessary to answer at all. It's just common courtesy, right?

So I took my phone outside and stood out on the sidewalk for the duration of my approximately six-minute conversation. I then came back in, sat back at my computer again, and continued my work. No one even had to know I was on the phone.

Girl over there -->: For the past twenty minutes, I've had to listen to this girl, at full volume, call various body-piercing shops in an attempt to set up an appointment to get her belly button pierced. Are you serious? Do I really need to hear about this? Is this any of my business, let alone any of the business of the other half-dozen people in the lab? Come on, please. Honestly. Take it outside. Or do it when you're at home. Or, even better, don't get your stupid belly button pierced, you stupid!

OK, I feel a little bit better now. Thanks, blog. You're a good pal.