Log in

No account? Create an account


Raised by Wolves

Gaki: writing myself Real

Previous Entry Share Next Entry

I ignored everyone's calls over the weekend because I'm antisocial, you know.

But I will call you all back, fear not. I am a loyal mischief-maker.

The one time I did pick up the phone, I was politely informed that it was an Official Drunk Dial, which made me laugh, and reminded me of many a misspent college evening, hoovering up beer uninvited from house party kegs, cheerfully flipping off the frat boys and ambling down the lane, full of late spring and cheap lager.

Heading out the door from work, I spied a full-sized rope noose discretely hung from the overhead landing. Looks like the crunch time pressure's getting to a few people.

I don't like treadmills because they make me feel like a hamster, and the stairmaster is my second least favorite, as it reminds me of my dreams of drowning. Thus, I was stomping away on the elliptical machine, to the electronically replicated accompaniment of Shirley Manson's sinister strains, when a well-rounded young lady came marching by the large glass windows that all gyms inevitably place in their cardio area so that passers by can watch a symphony of self-torture on display. She was cheerfully munching on a donut, and caught my eye as she was passing. With an evil grin, she approached the window and began marching slowly down the row of machines, waving the donut in large, tantalizing sweeps, occasionally pausing to take a large, exaggerated bite out of it.

Clearly, the world has decided to remind me that we live in amusing times, and I should lighten the fuck up. ^_^