whatelse are bestfriends good for?

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#KiteARMY Be Part Of The Problem. To Hell With Solutions.

When I was fourteen, I went to a house party at a friend's. I was a responsible drunk teenager, my mother knew I drank, hated it, but accepted that it was either that or early pregnancy, I suppose. I would always get a ride home with a designated driver, always.

Rule of the house was be home before she got up for work. This was usually accomplished.

It's 4:50 in the morning, I'm so drunk that I'm supporting my body by sliding along a wall, looking for my ride. I go from room to room, mumbling "Mike...Miiiiiiiiiiiiiiike???" Still no Mike. I at one point think I have found him, and half trot half fall along the wall. Little did I know that the door to my friend's youngest sister's bedroom was open, and I fell inside.

I then took a nap.

I wake up at 5:12, I'm confused. I crawl around, stumble out into the hall, slide some more. I ask the only other conscious person in the room if they know where Mike is. Mike left nearly 2 hours ago.

Thanks for telling me Mike!

Anyway. I decide that I'm going to walk home.

This in retrospect was a terrible idea. I knew where I was, I knew where my house was, and I even knew how to get from point a to point b. I was also unable to walk without the assistance of a wall. This didn't matter though, home before Mommy awoke!

So, off I went on a great adventure two miles through the east side of Las Vegas, at five in the morning. This is no problem, so far, I'm wandering down the middle of residential streets, practicing how not to puke. Deciding that even though I really wanted to puke, I was really hungry as well. This comes into play later.

About a quarter of a mile from our humble abode, there is an Albertson's (grocery store) this Albertson's is magical, something they do not have in the midwest. A 24 hour grocery store!!! This is the part where a vast beacon of light shoots up from the top, and angels sing heavenly notes of joy.

In case you missed that.

I was starving. My stomach was making sounds like a wookie, and it was too much to just go home and eat then. I enter the store, get a couple suspicious looks from the two old lady cashiers, but I pay them no mind, I'm on a holy mission. I saunter through the aisles, deciding that while fish sticks sound fantastic! I couldn't exactly cook them at the customer service counter. So I continue my expedition. After what seems like the worst 5 minutes of my life, I come to the baking aisle, when I see what I've apparently wanted to eat my entire life.

Marshmallow Fluff.

I wander to the front, purchase my salvation and continue my trek home. I get it open, still walking, and realizing I do not have a spoon. This is the point where I determine that the only logical course of action is to use my hand.

So, at 6 in the morning on Eastern Avenue, I am walking down the street eating marshmallow fluff while being obviously intoxicated. It's pretty windy out, I'm pushing my hair out of my face, itching my nose, eating more fluff. To say the least, I was fine and dandy.

The short distance goes pretty much uneventfully, until I get home.

Oh, home sweet home.

I lived in a pretty sub-standard portion of town, with 12 foot security fences... to secure things. My mother being agitated that I never came home has locked the security gate on her way to work. Poor mom, I did so much to her.

Most people would have called their parents, went to a friends, gone to the neighbors who were awake, and had the key... but no. I decided to climb the fence. Now, this fence, I have climbed many a time sober, drunk, and a number of other adjectives. But I'd never done it with Marshmallow fluff before.

I couldn't just leave it on the sidewalk, it was so delicious. It was so fantastic! So I climbed the great wall, and successfully make it to the top, and I'm sure you know what happens next. I'll tell you anyway.

Upon reaching the top I do a little victory dance, where I raised my hands above my head, and jiggled. This jiggle, is what caused me to fall. I fell face forward, marshmallow fluff leaving my hand, slamming into the ground below and shattering.

If only I had had a similar fate. My legs were straddling the fence, and when I fell over, my thigh got caught on the top of the chain linked fence, cutting me, causing me to whoosh forward at an accelerated rate, slamming my knee into my chest, and after falling rather gracefully head first into the grass below, catching my foot in the fence for a moment.

Where I completed my descent.

Now, I don't want you to think that I was broken. I was too drunk to sustain real damages, I suppose. I only had a 4 inch cut to my left arm, a 2 inch cut on my thigh, and bruises about everywhere else.
Whatever, I was sleepy, drunk, and sad that my marshmallow fluff had blood in it.

I get inside. Go to bed. Sleep.

Until 7:00pm when my mother arrived home to find me covered in blood, with what appeared to be semen all over my face, in my hair, on my arms, and probably places I don't even remember. She was screaming, so loud.

I woke up, sat bolt up right, which caused her to scream even more. In an effort to comfort her, I say "Mommy, it's okay.. it was just fluff, I'll clean it off later."

I don't think she'll ever forgive me, but as I think back on the events of that 2 hourish period, that was the best fluff I have ever eaten in my entire life.

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It's odd what the human mind will use to support its self in times of stress.

High Adventure hikes take a long time. High Adventure is the name my scout troop uses for the hikes that go so high, that nothing is living anymore. I live in Washington, right smack dab in Seattle, and there are things living EVERYWHERE. There are plants and shit in places you can't even imagine, so to go so high that plants don't grow, in Washington, is really fucking scary.

We were somewhere, and the only name I can remember is Skyline Trail, wherever that is. Now, some of you may recognize this name, and begin to think that that's, say, not really that bad? Well yeah, it's probably not, but keep in mind if you think this you are probably a fucking beast. People like me, people who would actually read/ contribute to something like this (geeks) don't do shit like that. We are scrawny, and I am no exception, I just happen to do this crap anyway.

So this trail is about fifty miles, with killer vertical gain, and here I am with a thirty or so pound pack, and a beastly drill sargent of a scout behind me, forcing me to keep hiking no matter what the fuck I say, be it for break or for vital sustenance (water tends to be something the body cannot operate without). To his credit, he saved my fucking life. If I had gone the pace I wanted to on that hike, I would not only have gotten to the next site waay to late, but I would have gone batshit on the way there. I've seen what stupidly long hikes can do to a person's mind.

However, this was reduced to the mild agony of excruciating physical exertion, and the mind can cope with that easily. I thought of a goal, not one like those fucking self help things that piss me of like the next hill. No, I found something I so desperately craved at that point that I was perfectly willing to hike the ten mile average each day (though I checked the figures and it turns out it was more like twelve miles a day, ranging from seven to fourteen). I thought of food. Not just any food, because I am not a picky eater, and camp food tastes just fine to me (so long as it's eaten on the trail and not at home). I thought of the most deliciously wonderful food I could. Something I didn't get nearly every month let alone every day. I thought of a Subway's sandwich, my Subway sandwich.

Foot long white, with turkey, American cheese, mustard, mayo and olives, that's all thankyou and a chocolate chip cookie please. That's what I thought about, all the time. Hiking became a blur of physical movement, not worth paying attention to. My legs and feet did what they needed so long as I stared intently at the ground. And it got longer. Near the middle of the trip it became even more rare to my pallet, even more delicious. I added a seven eleven slushy to the equation. I thought about how I would go about getting the sandwich. I would have to walk, but hell that's not even an issue after this hellhole. I added a McDonald's hot fudge sundae. Damn, that's in the opposite direction of Subway. Screw it, I'll do it anyway. I physically NEED this after a hike like this. I'll go to the library too and grab a movie and just sit, and eat, and vegetate. I fantasized about this feast. Each hike took hours, that each seemed endless, and the obstacles in the trail got worse and worse at the distance for maintenance crews got longer and longer. But during the miles between campsites, my mind was totally occupied with this feast.

Finally, the last day, the last trail. Flat. Perfectly flat, and the most excruciating hike of my life (so far). I mentioned earlier what time can do to a person's mind. This hike was long. Fourteen miles, perhaps not long to you, but long enough for me. It is interesting to note that later on I would go on a two mile hike that was longer, and my friend only so far from mental breakdown, however I digress. This was torture. Every mile or so I would spy the next thing that SURLEY would be the parking lot. There! No. There! Not even. Where?! Just a little further. There? Ha ha HA!

Finally I made it. Finally after the monster hike. The one longer and more monotonous than any other I had done (so far) and I was here. Umm, no. We resaddled our packs and hiked that last stretch of poorly maintained gravel road to get to the place where heavy dust gathered on our cars. There will always be a note of helplessness in the universe so long as people can go through all that and return to the EXACT same view of the trail as when they started. We mounted our gear and battered and bruised selves into the various vehicles designed to port tired and worn peoples gingerly and lovingly away from the field of battle against nature and common sense. We left.

As I returned home. I dropped my pack in the kitchen, and a layer of dirt shook off from the shock. I took a shower and was mortified and humored to see my tan that I had finally earned in the scorching sun simply wash off (I have yet to get any form of tan, despite my unusual amount of sun drenched activities). I sat and watched Saturday cartoons, and was only sickened to think of walking outside for the next few days, let alone to quest for the feast that had captivated me for days, and hours of that gut wrenching torment. I have yet to taste Subway, Slushy and McDonalds ice cream together.

Such is one drama of the world.

Nothing like a second comment, huh?
: D

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My next boyfriend is going to be a Pyramid Head.

tee HEE

And as slowly and certainly as a ship on a whirlpool is sucked circling down, the huge bird was wheeling down towards me. So I jumped up off the egg and ran. The bird struck me with its claw onto the ground. I got up and ran towards the ocean preparing to dive while my back was wounded, carelessly. Then suddenly the bird swooped down opening its mouth for its meal, a great humongous Great White Shark about as big as a football field jumped up and swooped the bird into its jaw leaving nothing but a feather behind. What was strange was this island was no where close to normal. Everything was huge. I smelled something. It was the smell of meat cooking. So, I followed the trail of the smell. When I got closer to wehre the smell was coming from, I spotted a huge castle. The door was as big as a baseball field and the whole building was fifty times as large as a stadium. I decided to knock on the door. Someone opened it and a huge ox looking person came out. I was like a rat to him. The kid looked down. He said to me, “Who are you?” I was so shocked I couldn’t even move a muscle. The kid said to me again, “I’m not dumb you know, I know you’re alive.” He told his mom, “mom!! there’s a dead rat!” His mom replied, are you sure?” Then the kid replied to his mom back, “I think it’s dead, can I step on it to make sure?” His mom replied, “sure, but remember to throw it away before it starts to rot and smell.” The boy lifted his foot going to squad me into a ham. I now was able to move. I yelled, “WAIT!”, but my voice drifted into the wind so he couldn’t here me. There was no escape..

... ew x]

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If you're curious, press this link

Didn't make sense not to live for fun
Your brain gets smart, but your head gets dumb

I LOVE IT! XD Awesomely funny

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ew, mouth sex.

T-He

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#KiteARMY Be Part Of The Problem. To Hell With Solutions.

..O___o... .
.excuse me.. .I think I'm gonna have heart attack... .

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