Imagination, life is your creation
So, I'm still thinking a lot about my Urb. He recently endured a humorous incident that I considered sharing with people, in much the same way that I might tell a long, pointlessly boring story about my pet, except of course that most pets actually exist.
Even so, an idea came to me unbidden: I'm not using this blog for much, why not let Chris (his name is Chris, that being the default) have it instead? Writing a blog as a fictional character is certainly not a new idea (do I really have to link to Achewood again?), but still it amused me for a second. Nonetheless, I resolved that I could never do that, because it would be the most horrible thing ever. Not even in a funny ironic way...it is more like the sort of thing that only the very worst human would consider doing.
...
Thursday 15 September 2005
Today was a little bit awkward. I had been looking forward to installing my new hot tub at the apartment, and when I arrived, Roxanna was waiting for me. I invited her in to watch some TV, even though it had been a long day and most of my meters were well into the red.
After TV and some impromptu dancing, I was fairly well-entertained, though exhausted, hungry, and rather unhygienic [isn't that always how it is? --ed.]. So I set up the tub, planning to unwind. Unfortunately, it didn't fit in the side room as planned, and I had to temporarily place it right in the middle of the living room, where it crowded the entryway to the kitchen. After a quick soak (which nonetheless managed to damage the tub somehow), I called the janitor to clean up and decided to make some food for me and Roxanna.
Long story short, I found myself stuck in the kitchen, pinned against the door by a certain very unfriendly cat. I couldn't open the door because Roxanna was standing hungrily on the other side, and she in turn couldn't move out of the way because she was trapped in the aforementioned entryway by the janitor, who insisted on trying to squeeze past all three of us so he could wash my dishes (since this, I guess, was more far urgent to him than either my personal needs or the ankle-deep pool that still surrounded the hot tub). After repeatedly struggling with the door, Roxanna and I eventually gave up and spent several minutes shrugging at each other, as my sleep and toilet meters inched further and further towards critical.
Finally I grabbed a second door, pulled it from its hinges, and, in a last-minute act of desperate remodeling, created a new exit from the kitchen. I made a mad dash for the next room, but hadn't taken three steps before peeing myself and losing consciousness.
It was not Chris Urbie's finest moment.
mood: auto-urinating [img="oops.gif"]
music: The Black Eyed Peas, apparently
Wow, I feel like I just violated my readers.
Even so, an idea came to me unbidden: I'm not using this blog for much, why not let Chris (his name is Chris, that being the default) have it instead? Writing a blog as a fictional character is certainly not a new idea (do I really have to link to Achewood again?), but still it amused me for a second. Nonetheless, I resolved that I could never do that, because it would be the most horrible thing ever. Not even in a funny ironic way...it is more like the sort of thing that only the very worst human would consider doing.
...
Thursday 15 September 2005
Today was a little bit awkward. I had been looking forward to installing my new hot tub at the apartment, and when I arrived, Roxanna was waiting for me. I invited her in to watch some TV, even though it had been a long day and most of my meters were well into the red.
After TV and some impromptu dancing, I was fairly well-entertained, though exhausted, hungry, and rather unhygienic [isn't that always how it is? --ed.]. So I set up the tub, planning to unwind. Unfortunately, it didn't fit in the side room as planned, and I had to temporarily place it right in the middle of the living room, where it crowded the entryway to the kitchen. After a quick soak (which nonetheless managed to damage the tub somehow), I called the janitor to clean up and decided to make some food for me and Roxanna.
Long story short, I found myself stuck in the kitchen, pinned against the door by a certain very unfriendly cat. I couldn't open the door because Roxanna was standing hungrily on the other side, and she in turn couldn't move out of the way because she was trapped in the aforementioned entryway by the janitor, who insisted on trying to squeeze past all three of us so he could wash my dishes (since this, I guess, was more far urgent to him than either my personal needs or the ankle-deep pool that still surrounded the hot tub). After repeatedly struggling with the door, Roxanna and I eventually gave up and spent several minutes shrugging at each other, as my sleep and toilet meters inched further and further towards critical.
Finally I grabbed a second door, pulled it from its hinges, and, in a last-minute act of desperate remodeling, created a new exit from the kitchen. I made a mad dash for the next room, but hadn't taken three steps before peeing myself and losing consciousness.
It was not Chris Urbie's finest moment.
mood: auto-urinating [img="oops.gif"]
music: The Black Eyed Peas, apparently
Wow, I feel like I just violated my readers.
posted by Evan at 3:07 PM
3 Comments:
Seriously, I promise I'll never do that again.
mood: sheepish [img="baaa.gif"]
music: none
ok, as weird as that already is, isn't your post title a lyric from an Aqua song?
uh
[cough]
maybe a little bit
on that point, I refer you again to my previous comment
Post a Comment
<< Home