Wednesday, November 17, 2004

Fun with boogers

I hop out of bed on Wednesday and Friday mornings. Okay, actually, I suppose my motion would be better described as a roll out of bed with a hell of a lot of flair. It's perky, though. Have no doubts about that, boys and girls.

Half awake and ha-ha-ha-happy to be alive, I pull on the following:
-One (1) pair footed tights
-One (1) pair footless sweater knit tights
-One (1) tanktop with built-in bra
-One (1) pair of black Under Armour ColdGear pants
-One (1) Under Armour ColdGear mock turtleneck
-One (1) fuzzy fleece pullover of some kind, in a bright color as to prevent me from looking like Morticia Adams

Then I bumble around. I make my bed. I usually check my email. I make a mocha. All of these things are done slowly, as to assure that I will leave at 6:35 instead of 6:30, which is when I should leave [actually, it's when I think I should leave. I've never left at 6:30, so I can't be absolutely certain].

I drive 20 minutes, listening to the hosts of my favorite morning show talk about boobs. Boob talk wakes me up. Generally, I'm fully coherent by the time I run from my warm car into...a damp, sub-freezing building.

As fast as my hands will work, I add the following to my already-attractive outfit:
-One (1) black fleece headband
-Two (2) pair black gloves
-One (1) pair ridiculously expensive figure skates
-One (1) pocketful Kleenex brand facial tissues

If I do these things fast enough, I'm the first one on the ice. While I'm warming up, I can hear rats munching on popcorn and discarded hockey gloves. I think. I think they're rats, anyway (could be raccoons or stray guinea pigs) and I think they're eating popcorn and discarded hockey gloves.

Once I'm warm, I spin so fast that the snot flies out of my nose and whips me in the face.

This makes me happy.

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