Wednesday, March 29, 2006

A Brief Treatise on Pain

-Pain is suddenly realizing that your feet are covered in blisters from the 20 straight hours of walking you did the day and night before up and down the Vegas strip in your shitty Payless dress shoes.
-Pain is deciding not to listen to reason and go buy some Dr. Scholl's at one of the many drugstores along the strip.
-Pain is hitting the town in force once again with said shitty Payless dress shoes.
-Pain is watching as the blister on your heel continues to get bigger for the next four days and realizing that you're in bumblefuck nowhere Idaho.
-Pain is trying to unsuccessfully pop said blister using a sewing needle and some rubbing alcohol.
-Pain is feeling said blister swell to an excruciating size as the plane back to Atlanta pressurizes.
-Pain is hobbling to your car and driving back to your mother's house with your left leg lifted in the air because to do otherwise is excruciating.
-Pain is desperately begging your mother to make an appointment with her doctor even though you don't have insurance.
-Pain is trying to sleep through what feels like twenty needles being repeatedly rammed into your heel all night and then intensifying.
-Pain is having every nurse and doctor at the doctor's office come in and gawk at the size of apparently "the biggest blister I've ever seen." (Actually, that part was kind of cool)
-Pain is having the doctor press firmly against your excruciating blister that she has just punctured several times with a rather large needle.

Relief comes in the form of about 100 soggy cotton pads and a puddle on the floor.

Mmmmmmmm, tasty. Stay tuned for the rest of the story. I promise it'll be entertaining. There may even be pictures! Here's a taste:

Thursday, March 16, 2006

"Fuck you, clown."
--Julius Caesar after being warned by a soothsayer of the Ides of March

As everyone knows (especially if you just looked it up on the internet), the Ides of March is March 15th. Today being March 16th, I'm going to pretend that the Ides of March stretches from March 15th until the end of the month in order to reiterate what the late great Julie C. said up there. You see, I am about to embark on an adventure so rife with peril and debauchery that I am forced to throw all caution to the wind, ignoring any and all reasonable warnings about impending doom. Beginning tomorrow, I, Kyle Weekend, will be attempting a feat that few have dared before (without already having serious drinking problems... or being Irish). I will attempt to have a ten-day-weekend. Yes, that's right. This miraculous achievement will be accomplished in the following manner:
March 17-19: Go to the Golden Corral 500 at the Atlanta Motor Speedway for three days straight of daytime drinking and nighttime post-race carousing. In attendance will be Micheal and Anthony.
March 20: Don't go to work. Recuperate.
March 21: Wake up at the ass-crack of dawn in order to make it to the airport to fly out to

That's right bitches! Kyle Weekend is taking it to the City of Lights! In attendance will be the aforementioned Anthony (he has a gold metal at the Alcoholympics) for the entire two days that we will be there. Also in attendance will be this wonderful, wonderful creature:

My friend Jen from the left coast has decided to brave the drunken depravity of Anthony and myself for twelve whole hours straight. She's flying in from LA Wednesday evening and flying back Thursday morning. Yes, she is a rock star.
Ahem, March 23, 7AM: Stumble drunkenly onto a plane bound for Seattle, and then onto Spokane. Wake up hopefully sober enough in Spokane to rent a car in order to drive 2 1/2 hours to bumblefuck nowhere Idaho for Broocks' wedding which is taking place here. Drink lots in the woods. Try not to drown in pristine, frozen lake. Relax.
March 27: Hop on plane back to Atlanta. Weekend has ended. Back to grindstone.
Wish me luck!

Thursday, March 02, 2006

Do you ever get the feeling that the internet was designed specifically for you? Behold, the greatest website of all time: Boobies