Packing is such a pain. Pain pain pain.
On the bright side, I found the sham that has eluded me ALL year. Yayyy
Aanywho, packing most of my life into the back of Joe makes me feel two ways: 1. Awesome and minimalistic. After all, I can fit everything into my car. This proves I'm not materialistic, right? Everyone should wish to be me. 2. Pathetic. Everything fits in my car. I'm going no where in life. I may as well become a professional hobo.
I like to deal in dramatic extremes.
I don't like packing, but when I have to I prefer to pack ahead of time. Nothing like being punctual and prepared. However, when you need the stuff you have to pack for life, that kind of becomes difficult.
Aaand we're done.
Showing posts with label homeless people. Show all posts
Showing posts with label homeless people. Show all posts
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Why must blog posts always have titles?
Titles are ridiculous things. They work for book and magazines, but that's as far as it goes. What if I have a super awesome blog, but my title ends up being horrific, people decide not to read it as a consequence, and I never become famous? That would be tragic! So please, read the blog regardless of the title. It probably won't be super awesome, but hey, I can try can't I?
So. English class. Simulation game. Apparently the earth is about to be hit by a meteor, and everyone will die. Drat. But! We have a space ship. We also have a distant planet that is apparently capable of sustaining human life. One problem. It's one of those two door models that only seats five. So out of the whole entire world, the world being the class, only five get the esteemed privelige of living next week. I am a 17 year-old punk rocker. That's right. You heard me. So, why should I get a seat on the space ship? I really don't know. I wouldn't vote for myself. However, we are required too, so I had better come up with something, eh? The rest of the world is composed of: An Amish wagon maker, a car salesman, a homeless person, a televangelist, and astronaut with herniated disks, a McDonald's employee, a poet who grows orchids, a 12 year-old genius with diabetes, a nurse with arthritis, a parent with three children, a sterile doctor, a geneticist with a criminal record, a prostitute, a college freshman, an unemployed inventor, a high school science teacher, a janitor, a high school sophomore, a supermodel, and a CEO. ...and five of us are supposed to get together and start a colony? Riiight...at least we get credit for it, I guess. Although, if you think about it, the prof won't be on the space ship, therefore she won't be on the planet, therefore she cannot grade us, therefore our lives in English have been wasted. Stink. We tried suggesting to her that we should just call Chuck Norris and he would take care of the meteor, but she said no. I have a feeling I shall remain on earth to die. Maybe I'll call Chuck anyway.
On a totally nonrelated note, I have eaten nothing but sandwiches, chips and honey buns today.
So. English class. Simulation game. Apparently the earth is about to be hit by a meteor, and everyone will die. Drat. But! We have a space ship. We also have a distant planet that is apparently capable of sustaining human life. One problem. It's one of those two door models that only seats five. So out of the whole entire world, the world being the class, only five get the esteemed privelige of living next week. I am a 17 year-old punk rocker. That's right. You heard me. So, why should I get a seat on the space ship? I really don't know. I wouldn't vote for myself. However, we are required too, so I had better come up with something, eh? The rest of the world is composed of: An Amish wagon maker, a car salesman, a homeless person, a televangelist, and astronaut with herniated disks, a McDonald's employee, a poet who grows orchids, a 12 year-old genius with diabetes, a nurse with arthritis, a parent with three children, a sterile doctor, a geneticist with a criminal record, a prostitute, a college freshman, an unemployed inventor, a high school science teacher, a janitor, a high school sophomore, a supermodel, and a CEO. ...and five of us are supposed to get together and start a colony? Riiight...at least we get credit for it, I guess. Although, if you think about it, the prof won't be on the space ship, therefore she won't be on the planet, therefore she cannot grade us, therefore our lives in English have been wasted. Stink. We tried suggesting to her that we should just call Chuck Norris and he would take care of the meteor, but she said no. I have a feeling I shall remain on earth to die. Maybe I'll call Chuck anyway.
On a totally nonrelated note, I have eaten nothing but sandwiches, chips and honey buns today.
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