Huge-y Lewis and the News
I hate discrimination. That’s why I only use it against people I don’t like.
I walk around most days assuming someone is going to punch me in the back of the head. This has been true for awhile but of course has been an irrational fear of mine.
That was until “The Knockout Game”. The point of the game is to punch an unexpected person hard enough in the back of the head so they get knocked out.
I love when my irrational fears become reasonable. Before I thought I was going to get hit and the back of the head and my friends thought I was crazy. Now I think I’m going to hit in the back of the head and it is a very assured possibility.
Sometimes I hear someone come up with an ok idea and someone else will tell them “hey you should write a book”.
But it’s not that good of an idea so there is really no need to stretch out over 200 pages.
It would be an alright facebook status. Why does no one come up with an ok idea and some say “hey you should write a facebook status”?
Nevermind I’m getting a hamburger.
Sorry that joke was bad but I regret nothing.
My body does not respond well to the weather. That is especially true for the cold. Recently as the temperature has dropped my hands have become very dry particularly around my knuckles and wrist. I’ve be using Jergen’s hand lotion to help with this but so far only my palm and groin area have gotten any smoother. Maybe I am applying it wrong.
Another problem I have been facing is that my room is always very cold at night because of my window and my lips become so dry that they crack and bleed. This has led to me bleeding on my sheets and comforter which is not a big deal to me but because of the color of my sheets the stains that were left look like an unattractive brown color. Essentially it looks like I shit the bed.
Obviously I did not shit the bed but no person is going to buy that excuse. It sounds like something you might make up when you shit the bed and don’t want people to know it. That happens to be a perfect analogy to my situation. Either way someone will come to the bed-shitting conclusion. So my options are when someone sees it I can either:
A) Pretend like I didn’t know I had shit the bed and act as shocked as them as if that were something I wouldn’t have noticed the next morning and get rid of the sheets or
B) Tell the person the lips story they won’t believe so they think I not only shit the bed but had knowingly slept in the same bedding all while trying to make an excuse that allowed me to continue to sleep in my shit covered bedding.
Those options are bed-shittingly awful.
When I was younger I used to have a lot of trouble with eye contact. If I was staring at a girls boobs when she talked it was more likely because looking into her eyes burned my retina and that was a more pleasant place to rest my gaze oppose to just trying to get a peak at her goods. I was trying to do that too but that wasn’t the only reason.
In fact I still do have troubles but I have gotten a lot better at it. I’ve improved in one on one conversations but the place I still fail is making eye contact with strangers.
I’ve been trying to improve by finding the right balance. I don’t want to stare at the ground too much but I don’t want to stare at people.
Last semester I thought I had found the perfect balance… until one day.
I was on Main Street and I saw a girl who seemed to be really enjoying life. She was smiling at everything. She smiled at her phone. She smiled at a restaurant sign. She even smiled at a lamp post.
This was a great chance to practice. We’d make eye contact, smile at each other, and go on our ways. Nothing more and nothing less.
So after she eye-fucked that lamp post she turned to me with her big smile and we made eye contact. Before I could even smile back, her smile went away and a new face replaced it.
And I don’t mean like the kinda face of “Hey random person I don’t know this is sorta awkward”. She frowned. She was smiling, saw me, and frowned?
I know I’m no supermodel but I’m not ugly enough to make someone frown. So how much sadness and despair did this girl see in my eyes that it made her upset.
She was happy and my face ruined her day.
I believe women are like a fine wine. They get better with age.
In fact, there is nothing better than having a woman and wine from the same year. Who doesn’t love a good 1999 pinot noir?