Terrible Idea: Not Planning Ahead

I always like to sleep as much as possible before class.  I don't want to interrupt the great dream I am usually having.

I roll over casually to look at my clock and see what time it is.  Class starts at 10:30 so I want to wake up with enough time to shower, brush my teeth, lose my car keys.  Sure enough, I only have ten minutes until I need to be there.

Thus, I am rudely awakened (literally and figuratively) when I find out I am late.

I am never on time.  I just can't do it.  I just imagine Father Time shaking his head judgmentally at me.  Every day of my life.

 Whatever man.  Get a job.

Anyway, I scramble (like eggs) and try to get all of my things together for the day.  I race up to class.  Luckily, my car is super fast and trusty so this only takes WAY LONGER THAN IT IS SUPPOSED TO.

 Now, I never plan ahead.  I need something printed out for my first class and refused to take care of this ahead of time.  

I sprint to the computer lab.  I have ONE MINUTE.  Thus, there is no choice but to address the sudden increase in personal threat level.

 It is only after I arrive at a computer do I realize how screwed I truly am.  First I must log-in.  Username.  Password.  Security question.


Technology.

The computer loads.  I panic.

FINALLY!  IN THE COMPUTER.

Now I must open Firefox, download my file, open it in word and then print it out.

Easier said than done.

Firefox is always a little bitch and takes a good two minutes to load.

Firefox my ass.  More like liarfox.

Firefox OPENED.  File dowloadinggggggg....

DOWNLOADED.

NOW I have to open Microsoft Word...


Worst.  Thing.  Ever.

 I panic.  Again.


Drama.

FINALLY I get my paper printed.  And sprint down to class to proudly turn in my scholarly reflection.


In the end, I experience another pointlessly stressful encounter that could have been solved by me planning ahead.  I can only think of my Dad in times like this who always has some profound piece of advice or gem about life to give me.

Rule #76: No excuses, play like a champion.

Either plan ahead or plan adead. 

  

Terrible Idea: Listening to the Teacher

One day, I was in seventh grade.  I was sitting in math class.

Bliss.

All of sudden.  I felt somewhat odd.

I soon felt the sudden urge to hurl up whatever I had eaten for lunch that day.  It was probably chicken nuggets or pizza.   Quickly I raised my hand to ask if I could go to the bathroom.

My teacher finally noticed me raising my hand and asked me what the problem was.  I asked if I could go use the bathroom.  She denied me, saying I had already used my one bathroom pass of the semester.  Cool.  Basically, she said this... 

But I find myself in a conundrum.  Do I go to the bathroom because I know things are about to get really bad?  Or do I listen to what the teacher says and stay in the classroom like I am told?

My condition worsened...

I decided to listen to the teacher and stay.  Then....it happened.  Projectile vomit.  In the classroom.

Now, judging by the equation for projectile motion that allows us to solve for range...

...the distance my puke traveled was far.  I think the best comparison would be to that of a fire-breathing dragon...

But, instead of a dragon breathing fire...it was breathing throw-up.

The aftermath was pretty terrible.

Chaos.  Pain.  Confusion.

I hadn't been that sick since nam.
 

So...in the end, despite my math teacher being the worst person in the world, I was able to leave school early and sleep.

Sweet.  Dreams.

Moral:

1 + 1= if you have to go to the bathroom, go to the f***ing bathroom.

MATH.

Terrible Idea: My Sleeping Pattern

My sleeping pattern is bizarre.  If you can even call it a 'pattern.'  Here is a normal day, just working on some homework, porn, whatever...

 Time passes, as it does.  And for no reason, I decide to stay up until it's that time that doesn't really have a name.  Like...it's so late that it could be early.  I say "the ass crack of dawn," some just say "early" or "late."  Idk...it's up to you.  Fielder's choice.

So, eventually I go to bed.  Wake up.  Go about my day.  But you can just tell things are different for me compared to the normal sleeper.

It really wouldn't bother me if it didn't change certain aspects of my life.  Clearly, I don't get enough sleep, so eventually things become funnier than they would be to a normal person.  Almost as if I'm intoxicated with sleep deprivation.

But I am not laughing for long.  Soon my brain starts to fail.  I cannot remember simple things.  I cannot communicate.  I cannot do two things at once.

 So, I forget about assignments, test, papers, projects, my name and my phone number.  My grades begin suffer.  They slip out from under my control.  They panic.

 Utter.  Chaos.


My life is now crumbling.  I become so stressed.  Nothing is going right.


I can no longer sleep.  I can't dream.  There is only one explanation...

 ...cue music.

I can sleep when I'm dead.

 

Terrible Idea: Eating Too Much

I eat too much on a daily basis.

Unfortunately, my eyes are always bigger than my stomach.  It also doesn't help that my I have a very unhealthy food pyramid.

I love to eat.  So I make sure to hit all the main food groups.

People always warn me to be careful because you are what you eat.  If I literally was what I ate, I would turn into this burger pizza french fry man...BURPIZFRY!

Pity.  Indeed.

Now, sadly, I have begun to eat healthier for fear of turning into BURPIZFRY!  

It sucks.

Sadness.  Loneliness.  Hunger.

Moral:  Eat food.  Not crap.

  

  

Terrible Idea: Spraying Pepper Spray in Face

When I was small, I was crazy.  Literally.  People thought I was on cocaine.

 I would always violently run around my house.  I loved the garage.  So much.


So...I would go inside the garage.  Often.

I would look for things as if I were a pirate, or a squirrel.  Then, one fateful day, I found a can of HAIRSPRAY!!!

So I decided...why not spray it DIRECTLY INTO MY FACE?

Clearly this was not hairspray.  I ran inside to find my dad.  Crying.  Emotion.  Pain.


 
And to this day...no one was surprised I did this.

Note to self: pepper spray kills.