Holy shit, don't you hate it when you wake up from a nap and suddenly you feel like you're so fucking lost? 90% of my naps are like that. I wake up and I'm either confused as all fucking hell as to where I am, what time of the day it is, or if I had missed anything important; or I am in a murderous fucking rage and flip out in just the drop of a hat; or both combined. Oh and of course, every time one takes a very deep slumber, they also have to either shit or piss or both really badly afterwards too. Fuck naps, man. It's the feeling while you're asleep that fucking rules. I guess if I like that feeling the most out of everything else, I might as well be fucking dead.
I'm sorry kids, I need to slow down on the use of the F word. As you could tell, I have just recently woken up from a nap. My second one today. One hour in AP History while we watched this lackluster film about King George III of England and how he supposedly went berserk at some point during his reign. Apparently I missed the part when he goes crazy. As a matter of fact, I missed everything. My head and my arm were sprawled out all over my desk and it was quite obvious that I was out cold. I think the substitute teacher was uncomfortably taking notice of that. Hey dude, I can't help it if I don't like a movie.
Second time was after coming home from school, watching about two hours of yet another re-run of Season 2 of America's Next Top Model until the sandman decided to pay me another visit. I was sort of hoping to get another sick dream, man. I had one about last week that I got into this sweetass fistfight where the other chick punched me in the jaw and I bit and got a grip of the skin on the back of her hand with my teeth and ripped the momentum out her [actually good] attempt at knocking my face off. Fight dreams fucking rule, I highly recommend them.
I think that was the same night where I had the most insane nosebleed known the man. So, I was applying acne cream on my nasty face while standing over the sink in front of the mirror in the bathroom. (We have the typical makeup of a typical bathroom.) Until all of a sudden, what seemed like a little tiny man knome gatekeeper who lives somewhere up my nose lifted the little tiny wall and let gushing out what looked like the equivalent of the Colorado River flow out of my nose like a goddamn faucet, smooth and fluid as hell. It was so bad that I seriously could not contain the splattering and splashing of blood all over the faucet, backsplash and sides of the sink. Man, it was fucking insane, I tell you.
I had to call my mom from standing in the position of trying to squeeze my nose shut to contain the ever-so-violent onflow, but blood still kept leaking out no matter how hard I squeezed. She brought two handfuls of tissues almost an inch thick, both of which blood seeped through each fucking sheet later on. This whole fiasco was so bad that it was like being fucking possessed or something for about five minutes. God, it fucking ruled. I was so proud of myself that I had to take pictures of the mess. Laugh if you will, but I guarantee you that you will never out-nosebleed me. Except if you break it into 58 pieces or something, but mine was all 100% natural. Naturally fucked up, if you may.
Christina N. @ 11:03 PM
