Tuesday, March 27, 2012

BOLD MAROON PRINT.

DIG IT. Well, let me tell you some odd occurrences and punctuate them with some thinking aloud - writing out something I plan to do always helps me do it.

Awhile back, Emily'd been short minutes but had a sneaky suspicion her councilor was trying to get ahold of her. This was frustrating, because we just had to sit there stewing over the dreaded, WHAT IF...?'s that plague your head when these sort of situations arrive: the human imagination has two switches when worrying, and they're Overestimate (At which point the councilors would be either calling to give us the All-Clear Signal, or warning us of a ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE) or Underestimate (Which we didn't do, but would've been something akin to them calling to say hello and ask about the weather.)

I'd decided I was going to jog out to the store at 11:00 PM or so, and fix the problem.
I confess I was terrified. I don't live in the greatest neighborhood, and I had heard these reports of young, successful Russian men being KIDNAPPED, forced to RECORD THEIR VOICES to EXTORT their families, and then promptly EXECUTED. I imagined being in a similar situation and wondering if bolting would help me at all. I finally resolved to just pay attention to every car and person.

A couple cars passed awful slow but it wasn't much to be worried about. However, there was one lone person on foot at 11:00 besides me, and he was shuffling suspiciously down the road by a drainage ditch that bisects the highway intersection. I hoofed it to McDonald's and caught my breath in their BRIGHTLY LIT parking-lot before trit-trotting down to the 24-7 convenience store to pick up minutes. On my way out, a car pulled up very suddenly. It was an Officer.

He flags me down, pulls over and goes...

"We've lost a fugitive. He's an African-American man wearing a gray hood and black pants."

I told them that, in the fifteen minutes it took me to catch my breath and buy a card, he'd gotten a lead on them, but that he'd passed me on the drainage-ditch side of the highway.

AW YEAH.
ASSISTING THE LAW AND BUYING ATTRACTIVE WOMEN MINUTES.

Today, I have to:

Turn in this wad of job applications. [ ]
(Mmmh, manual labor and minimum wage again. Thank God I'm such a cheap bastard this'll add-up quick and I can escape to a beautiful desert full of cactus blossoms and people that resemble them.)
Turn in this wad of benefits papers. [X]
(The free schooling seemed uneccessary, but it might be another route to California without risking the Guard anchoring me here for four years of service. There seems to be a divide on whether or not I could transfer to Edwards. Some say yes, some say no. Even documents don't agree, and congress is too half-witted to demand military documents degree, because if they all agreed, what would the military judiciaries be there for...?)
Mail three postcards. [X]
(I've got one to a suspicious man in Florida, a grieving mother in Sweden, and CHIPTUNE McCATTITUDE.)
Take vitamins and organize my work-out schedule so things stop coinciding. [X]
(I've laughed this off for awhile now, but it would seem the reason my muscles are kind of in this weird Mexican stand-off is because I'm working them consecutively and not focusing on other stuff and letting them cool. This seems counter-intuitive, but a trainer has confirmed it and I'm feeling relatively disgruntled over it.)
Re-deposit the extra twenty dollars I withdrew. [ ]
(Thought those minutes would cost more. They didn't.)

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