In other news I had a make up for my creative writing class that was supposed to be held yesterday but wasn't due to some Jewish holiday. The teacher kept coming up to me asking me my opinion on things and I would just shrug my shoulders or give him some half assed answer, followed by wondering why the fuck he is picking on me for so many things. Later on he gave us a very short story to read for homework and go over to talk about in class tomorrow about the writing style and why it is so good. The whole time he kept bringing up this one style and asking why someone would use it and why it is so good. The entire time he also was holding this large packet of pages i saw with notes written all over it. Then I thought to myself "jesus, that is the story I submitted last week." He raised it in the air and said how I used the style very well and more people should learn from my writing and so forth. The word genius was tossed around too. Who would have thought rants about high level alcohol benders would be considered borderline genius story telling? The notes are hilarious. Well, hilarious to me cause they're written as if the people were made up characters and not friends of mine I got retarded with out in California. Shit said such as how he loves my main character and thinks I should develop my secondary characters a bit more, possibly giving them more dialogue, etc. Other notes like how the teacher would like to hear more about this character and his adventures and see how much trouble he gets in (lord if he only knew the shit I've gotten into over the years... I think my next submission might be about the time me and some friends tried stealing another friend's car when we were 18 to see his thoughts on that one). This teacher is also very adamant about me trying to get this story and similar stories published. here in the fuck would I go about doing that? (I'm fairly sure it's an automatic A in the class, so please, do tell me how if you know) Also, if anyone could tell me why on God's green Earth I have that fucking Better Than Ezra song "Good" stuck in my head earlier today, I'm open to suggestions not only as to why but how never to get it stuck in there again.
I dunno what else I wanted to say in here, so here's the first few paragraphs of the story in question:
I knew this trip was going to be a bit wild, especially seeing how Loki and me were heading to the airport directly after the bar in Suffern, but I never thought it'd be so ridiculous so fast.
"Sir, are you a diabetic? ARE YOU GOING INTO DIABETIC SHOCK? Are you on any prescriptions that we need to know of? Do you need help? Do we need to take the plane down for an emergency?" Coming to consciousness, finding yourself sprawled across the floor in the back of the airplane to the barrage of these questions is not something you usually expect from a standard plane ride, but then again, you're not me and nothing apparently is standard when I'm around.
I came to after hearing these questions and answer "huh? what?" I look around and see 3 stewardesses hovering over me with the utmost looks of concern and shock as I kind of put up one arm to block the flashlight in my eyes. One stewardess piped up and goes "Sir, you look very pale, is there any health problems you have we should attend to?" I try and shimmy my body up against the back wall of the airplane as I reply with "I know, I'm always pale. Just leave me alone, I have to piss or puke. Just leave me alone." AS I'm sitting there, another stewardess comes running up with a damp, cold paper towel and throws it on top of my forehead and starts patting my face. I kind of do one of my Frankenstein arm toss and grunts. You know the one, the one where he yells “FIRE! BAD!” But, that wasn’t the case. My case was that I just let out "I HAVE TO PEE!" They point to the bathroom door, and don't tell me this isn't the standard door one would expect. I start pulling on it really hard like some dumb ape and grunting trying to get it open. I throw my arms in the air in frustration and exhaustion and am about to sit back down on the floor until one of the stewardesses tells me "sir, you have to push into the door and it will collapse and open." I looked at her like she was on drugs when she told me this and start shoving into the door. Weird shit, it worked just like she said it would. I must say, pissing during turbulence isn't fun. I kicked the door open to exit and staggered back to my seat to find where I threw my hat and ipod. Memories came back of me standing up to throw those 2 items down onto my seat as I stood up. All I remember after that instance was that I was taking a footstep and then what I can only describe a feeling as if someone hit me on the back of the head and everything went black. Obviously, no one was standing behind me and striking me across the back of my head, but yea. All of this happened within an hour of the plane having had taken off and us being up in the air.
When the plane landed, several stewardesses came up to me to make sure I was ok. They offered me drinks (which I said yes to only to find out the drink offered was orange juice) and sandwiches (which thank God I declined, because they had intentions of charging me 6 buck for a turkey sandwich I would have refused to have eaten because it had turkey in it). When I finally gave in to their repetitive questioning as to what it could have been that made me do what happened, I kind of just lied to them and told them it was a mixture of not eating dinner and not getting a good night's sleep. They believe it and I obviously didn't want to tell them it was most definitely because for 6 hours straight me, Loki and an ass-ton of people we know headed over to Suffern for a night of nonstop drinking pints of booze and shots of God only knows what. Apparently Loki's brother had to corral the two of us out of the bar cause we wanted to stay and keep drinking. I was reminded after the whole ordeal of me being in California that I was just a mess in the back seat staring at my cell phone as Loki was dead to the world in the shotgun seat, snoring his heart out. He and I sat there the next day when we got off the plane, staring at one another, hung over as all hell asking one another “how did we get on the pane in the first place?” Loki didn’t even remember leaving the bar, let alone, how he got on the friggin’ plane. All I remember is the two of us stumbling around, Loki dropping all his belongings all over the airport and being told he had to check his bags.
Anyway, after the two of us landed, we staggered off the plane like those zombies in Michael Jackson’s music video for Thriller. First on the agenda after arriving at LAX was to rent a car. We hopped some bus to the rental car place after sitting there, trying to remember the night prior as well as me loudly pointing out how ugly these 2 girls were sitting near us on the plane. I of course, not having any sense of care, was probably loud enough for not only the 2 said girls, but also everyone at the baggage claim to hear me go “UGHHH, SO FUCKING BRUTE LOOKING!” At the rental car place, we were given the choice of a full sized car. We saw a Dodge Charger, but the keys weren't in it. We were thoroughly disappointed and ended up sticking with a white Chevy Impala (I later found out there were V-8 Impalas when we returned the car and was kind of disappointed). But yea, we hit Denny's and sat there staring blankly at each other, grunting in pain and hating on what we eventually figured out was a fire alarm beeping every five seconds (you know, when you need to change the battery, and it keeps letting out that annoying high pitched beep? Yea, try sitting there eating your food while that is going off and causing the utmost annoyance since you have a hangover like no other).
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