Much earlier this evening, I drank a pitcher of sangria. Yum. Unfortunately, I’m a cap sniffing drunk.
Many hours, a long nap, and many glasses of water later, I sit here, sober, and holding a little notebook. Apparently, in my earlier state, I felt brilliant, and decided to write down all of my stunning, earth shaking, society-changing thoughts.
For your viewing pleasure, here is the enlightening text:
*I am a large continent. I house many people.
I am southeast Stasia.
The rain in Spain falls mainly in Des Moines.
The people at the ID place should just look at my old ID and replace it with a new one because I’ve always been me.
Jack in the Box is not fair, because he isn’t really in a box. He runs a corportation. [sic]
Ronald McDonald has never been funny. Michael McDonald however is. [punctuation incorrect]
You are all absolutely vile.
Look at the head on that. [apparently in reference to a glass of root beer]
When I write a book, I will call it BOOK! that way everyone will know what it is. It will be easy to find, because it will be in the book section. [this particular sentiment is surrounded by little hearts]
Mickey Mouse is immodest.
The world is ready for the Young Ones now and they should come back, but leave out Mike.
Mrs. Lady Stasia Anderson, III. Esq.
MMV*
It reads like Student Bloopers. In the name of D. Kenneth Angus Orville Gunderstadtler (or Og, for short), next time I start drinking, take the pen away.
Have you had any… er…* interesting * revelations while intoxicated (or, for non-drinkers, during a bout of insomnia or similar circumstances where you aren’t thinking straight), thinking they were brilliant at the time, only to review them later and think a two year old comes up with better?
Yes! I once found a note to myself in my front pocket that said “I don’t know where you go, but you leave” and then written under that was “This is important”
I have NO recollection of writing it, what it refers to, or why it is important, but apparently my intoxicated self thought it was life-changing.
I would soooooo love to drink with you. I think we’d need a microphone & tape recorder though. How long have you been in Seattle? Do you talk superfast yet? Is The Firehouse still open for business?
Two years, I speak faster than the average Seattlite normally, and yes, it’s about two blocks from here. We went to Cocina Esperanza at the top of the hill last night - goooooood Sangria. I think they used blood oranges. Mighty, mighty tasty.
Anastaseon, I don’t think you can count on us to keep you away from pen and paper when you’re drunk.
Having said that, I’ve been having recurring dreams about how I’d lost half my LD collection in college. We’re talking about classic LD’s, too. All anime, of course, except for the Live in Concert ones from Silly Wizard. And I’ve been waking up, repeatedly, wanting to go find out where the guy (former roommate) who stole them all is, and beat the snot out of him.
The problem is, while all this makes a great deal of sense to me when I’m half asleep, and is a wonderful change from the normal run of my dreams, I never owned any of these LD’s. Most of the ones whose titles I can remember were never pressed. And I never met the person I want to beat up for stealing these LD’s I never had, let alone roomed with him. :eek:
Fortunately I’ve long since burned all my notes from NNPS that were written when I was half asleep. And they’re classified anyways. So I can’t share those gems of idiocy.
Well, my situation is a *little * more complicated, since I’m an immigrant. I haven’t actually gone down to the “ID place” yet to get my Washington state ID, but I need one soon, since I’m still walking around with my New Brunswick, Canada learner’s permit for photo ID, or my passport. I’ve been fretting recently about getting one with ease, since I don’t have a SSN. However, I did manage to get a debit card without one, though it was more complicated than it needed to be. I’m thinking I must have been fretting about it again in my sangria-induced state.
I still think I will always be me, though, so they should just look at it and say, oh, okay, here you go. All I should have to do is prove I live where I live, and I live here, so it won’t be hard. Mr. Stasaeon says they probably won’t even need “proof”, just provide them with an address and they’ll give me an ID. I still fret.
Does any of that make any sense? Cripes, and I’m sober now.
Heh. I meant to post this earlier, but forgot until now. Last Sunday, after drinking heavily on sunday night, I found a peice of paper in my pocket. The following was written on it:
Appearently I was writing a manifesto in the begining, but somewhere between the title and item number one I must have gotten lost.
My friend Kim is a little like that when she’s pissed.
She is normally very taciturn and serious, but after a few beers, she becomes very expansive. She reminds me of a teenager marijuana newbie. She’ll grab my arm tightly, look me direct in the eye, and tell me some wonderful revelation - which is invariably utterly mundane crap. Good fun.
Aaaaah, well you didn’t say you were one a them thar furriners. Yup. Gotta keep you tagged.
Seriously, don’t worry about it too much. The people at the dept of motor vehicles may be annoying and soul destroyingly dull, but they’re not impossible.
Sorta reminds me of when a couple of acquaintances were on LSD and talking about what if we used different words for everything and what we thought was pink was actually blue, etc., when one of them grabbed the other, eyes wide, and asked with intensity,
“What if dog was spelled C-A-T!!!”
