Hey guys! Look what I made!
Yo, that's mad finger paintin' skillz right there!
Original
Oh man, I love going to the eye doctor. Basically, you just sit in a leather chair and get to look at colorful pictures and letters for 45 minutes and tell the doctor what it looks like. Well, what the fuck does it look like? Red, green, A, Z, ass. The doc said I passed all of the 20/20 vision tests, but that I stress my eyes too much and am just a smidge, slightly oh so tenderly farsighted. Had I not owned a computer, my hawk-eye vision would've remained for the rest of my life. She said that there is a possibility that I could return to my supreme Superman eye skills, but vision therapy would cost money and my mom is cheap.
So I guess I overreacted. That just means, "Daaaaamn, ya'll with glasses are blind!" And to think that I went bonkers over having vision like what someone would see after being punched in the face. The doc prescribed me glasses and contact lens, but you know I wouldn't wear them. Maybe contacts whenever I feel like it. Like if the day would require extreme owling skills, like when I have to look at what's for sale on the McDonald's menu on the overhead sign.
Didn't do gym class today. Forged a note from my mom and gave it to the nurse, who wrote me an excusal. Halfway through class, Mr. Teacher tells all the unprepared students to go out in the hallway, for we may be a "distraction." A hanging Exit sign was about to break off of the ceiling, along with one of its sides that has the letters E-X-I-T cut out so that the red light could shine through. Waiting 45 minutes without doing something is fucking boring. So I took a water bottle and started tapping the sign to further loosen it, until the cover fell off and one side of the box with the letters was hanging off the fixture, being just attached by two rubber bands and a green wire. So I got on a friend's back, snipped one rubber band off with scissors, almost fell and almost busted my ass. Then I pulled on it to stretch the rubberband so that I could reach it with the scissors, and cut the other rubber band and wire off. Then I put my scissors away in my bag and tucked the Exit sign under my coat and continued on my merry ways by the time the bell rang.
Wall signs are fucking easy; they're for sissies. When you steal overhanging ceiling light fixtures, now that is skill. If only I'd had a screwdriver with me I could've taken the entire lightbox and sign, then save it so that I could put it outside my front door whenever I get a house in the future. Damn, son.
Christina N. @ 5:13 PM
