Today I Didn't Even Have to Use My AK

Like you, I'm not immune to life's daily vicissitudes, but unlike you, I'll actually use the word "vicissitudes." I'm not proud. The last twenty-four hours have been full of ups and downs. Last night I had planned to stay home and read a two hundred-page book that I was going to be doing a presentation on in class today. I went out drinking instead. It was the right decision: I got drunk just enough that I dearly loved my friends and everyone around me. Someone high-fived me when I declaimed, "The enemy of my enemy is my friend." Later, I was told, "What's great about you is you shoot from the hip." I was drunk enough that, at the time, it sounded like something a person who isn't a douche bag would say.

Things went downhill as soon as I got home. Reading isn't easy when you're mildly soused. So I text messaged her, and almost immediately she called me. Just as quickly, everything was excellent again, right up to the point where I said something that made her hang up on me. But I called her back, and things got even better when she sang for me "My Favorite Things" from The Sound of Music. But then she told me I had to sing her a song too or she was going to hang up again. If all this sounds insane to you, it should. And if you're embarrassed for the both of us, that's appropriate as well. After I got off the phone I managed to read a hundred pages, so at least my last waking moments were semi-triumphant ones. Falling asleep wearing a sweater but no pants, however, qualifies as the opposite of "triumphant."

I woke up the next morning and finished the book, then wrote up the presentation. I worked on two Word documents at the same time -- one that I would be handing out to the class, and an annotated version for myself. The time it took to staple the handouts actually caused me to arrive ten minutes late to class. I'm not going to lie: I took perverse pride from how absolutely last-minute I was taking this. ("You magnificent bastard," I had congratulated myself as I furiously stapled.) Aside from one moment where I attempted a joke that was met with a deafening wall of silence, the presentation went well. During the break, a classmate patted me on the back and told me I had done a good job. It wasn't cool, though, when we ended up in the bathroom at the same time and he kept talking to me. "I'm fucking pissing here, dude," I wanted to tell him. Also, whosever turn it was for snacks was absent tonight, so no fucking chips or soda. Consequently, the class ended on something of a down note.

Finally, I don't want to brag, but my God, can I sing.