how i spend my evenings

last week was my birthday, which marked the one year countdown to the end of my second decade of life.

...i suppose that may have been a little dramatic way of saying that i turned 20, but i believe it's completely necessary. after all, turning 21 will begin a whole new life for me. i dont associate with any fortune tellers, but i believe that legally being able to drink could possibly be the greatest time in my life. either that, or it will be a downward spiral of chaos, shame, and regret. chances are i'll be too drunk to notice anyway.

despite the sheer insignificance that turning 20 brought me and brings millions of people every year, it will be remembered for the day i got accepted to ferris. which, to a lot of people, is no big deal. any asshole with a pencil in his hand could one day call themself a bulldog. but like turning 21 will do, it too marks a complete 180 in my life. for the first time in damn near 15 years, i am looking forward to going to school. because i know what the alternative is. work. and dont get me wrong - i realize im not doing manual labor here, but i do feel that i am in desperate need of a change of surroundings. working midnights, being on probation, and moving back in with my parents has done little for my social life's ego.

i would now like to explain how i spent my night at work:

-after almost 3 straight hours of online poker, consisting of buying fake drinks for everyone and flirting with the best-looking braud at each of the tables via open chatroom, i finally won a good size pot. i then lost all of it and then some in consecutive hands over the next 10-15 minutes. this really put a damper on my night.

-on a positive note, i finally beat my all-time high of Mario Bros (on the computer, not nintendo. from what i remember, i dominated that shit.) by beating the 4th level. halfway through the 5th level, though, a flying turtle ended my 5th and final life. if there's a more un-dignified way of dying, i certainly dont know it. however, it would be a great story to tell the grandchildren. next week i'll give level 5 another shot. that duck is going down through firepower.

-i read 1.5 pages of A Fan's Notes, a novel that i bought about a month ago and have yet to reach the 20 page mark. of all the noted reviews this book received, it forget to mention that the author's keen, intellectual dictation is not recommended for the graveyard shift worker. it has almost literally put me to sleep on numerous occasions.

-i stapled a hurdle track to the top of my desk for my fingers to race on. needless to say, this did not entertain me for long. i wish i knew where my fingerboards were.

-during what i like to call the glory hour (which is the hour before i punch out), a gun shot wound victim comes in by ambulance. this is an elderly man, and whatever an elderly man does at 6.30 in the morning to piss you off, please think of me before you decide to shoot him. if you dont give a shit about me, at least try to aim for the toes. possibly an arm, the chest. but the thigh? here i am, pen and paper in hand attempting to get some information on the situation, but all i can do is focus on the grim future lying there on the bed between this gentleman's legs. [note: i say 'grim future' because it is inevitable that mine and your testicles will one day look like this mans. also, i say 'lying there' because this sagging, unshapely sac of ball remnants hung away from the body and formed it's own little comfort zone on the bed, nestled ever so loosely between each thigh.]

i stood there trying to think of every horrific car accident i had ever seen, and realized that this was practically the sum total of them all.

so i'll be dealing with those flashbacks for the rest of my god damn life. that is, at least until i become an old man with my own distinct ball sac.