Thursday, March 01, 2007

I'm heart is, I mean.

Ahhhh! There's nothing like that first cup of coffee in the morning. Not that I need it. I'm wide awake. I have been eating fruit for breakfast and the sugars in these here grapes have really got me going. However, I decided to grab a cup of java anyways. Coffee is good for you. I heard that it's good for your heart and possibly your spleen and maybe your inner ear. But even though I am on a health conscious kick, this isn't why I'm gulping down a pint of hot and black sweetness. Nope. It's because I'm a tweaker.


I have a legal recreational drug habit. Some people like to say that they have an addictive personality. Well, that may be true with me, but mainly I just like a good caffeine high. I've cut my drinking way down and I no longer smoke, but I am still caffeine's bitch. Maybe this is why I'm so thin...and vibrate constantly. My legs are in constant motion under my desk. There are now advertisements for medication for Restless Leg Syndrome, and I recently overheard a conversation where a guy admitted to having this he was proud of it. Does this even exist, or are people simply in denial about their caffeine addiction and a drug company has found a way to make money off this? Is it easier to take a pill to stop your legs from shaking than to admit to yourself that you have a weakness to the uncontrollable urge to amp your heartbeats up to 200/minute?

I may go get another cup. Work is dead today.

I've been in communication with the girl that ripped my heart out, put it through a strainer, and made tea with it. She's found Jesus now, which is good. Apparently, she felt like her life was spinning out of control and religion can be a soft landing pad. However, I'm still boned on ever winning her. When we first met, I was too good and nice for her...and now I'm too evil. Besides, she only likes guys that she has to work hard for, and I'm a softball lob of love. I suppose I could call her, ask her how she's doing, and then tell her to go fuck herself. That actually might work. What's the worst that could happen? That I might really, really, really, really, really never win her over? After I tell her to go fuck herself, do I hang up immediately or stay on the line to hear her response? What's the correct play? It's a delicate thing...telling someone you love to go fuck themself.

Chica: (ring, ring) Hello?

Noel: Hey, it's Noel. How's it going?

Chica: Oh, hi Noel! Pretty good. I found Jesus!

Noel: That's great! I found Waldo! Just kidding. I'm really happy for you!

Chica: Thank you! I'm really starting to feel that my life has meaning.

Noel: I know what you mean. Oh hey, I wanted to tell you something.

Chica: What's that?

Noel: Go fuck yourself.

(long pause)

Chica: What?

Noel: Go fuck yourself.

(long pause)

Chica: I love you.


At Friday, March 2, 2007 at 12:30:00 AM EST, Blogger El Trío Los Ivanes said...

I appreciate you putting a picture of my uncle Juan on your blog. Now we can sue you.

At Friday, March 2, 2007 at 12:35:00 AM EST, Blogger El Trío Los Ivanes said...

In real life that conversation would have ended with you crying, and babbling in the fetal position, while drinking coffee, singing hitler show tunes, and whining to your dumb muslim-convert of the week chick friend. I'm rewriting the ending to your dream with your eyes being stung by bees.

At Friday, March 2, 2007 at 12:35:00 AM EST, Blogger El Trío Los Ivanes said...


At Friday, March 2, 2007 at 12:35:00 AM EST, Blogger El Trío Los Ivanes said...



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