What the hell was that you just read? Oh yes, it is a mystery. This brain, as an entirety is a mystery, but you asked the question. Or did I?
I went to subway in the skyway of my sixth floor apartment in downtown St Paul, sick from work, and feeling quite delirious, which, and can I be quite honest here, is my favorite way to feel. I'm laying in my bed, all hungry and junk, and thought, well, I was given the resources to go acquire some grub, I don't ALWAYS have to wait for my mom to bring it to me. (Living x amount of miles away from her.) Yes, let us (me and my body) make this happen for ourselves. So I go to the closet and pick out an outfit that isn't Nintendo characters on backwards boxers and a stretched out shirt from sleeping, and think eh? Well that is what I came out of the womb looking like then. Skinny as hell with a silly little gut, which has been given a name by my best friend. So my ponch and I decide the best outfit for the occasion.... Anything that covers me! Let's go I'm friggen starvin ova heeaaaah! (In the most mobster voice I can possibly muster, hand pinching the air in a cupped position.) I finally get all my gear together, because let's not talk about how many times I leave and then re-enter my apartment for my lost keys, phone, brain, shoe, pants, etc. (Each getting a tad more personal on things I've forgotten before I left the privacy of my own home.) Take that elevator down to the skyway baby!! That majestic elevator that always has a mystery odor, or substance or human inside, so you win no matter what floor you end up on, if not only to say, get me the HELL out of there. I'll skip the part of me walking to subway, because lets just say it was harder to do than anticipated, dodging swinging legs and stumbling characters, business men thinking they mac and at least 12 very obese individuals that I really just wanted to give a truffle shuffle to. Got to subway, remember now, del-eeer-eee-uuuus (Just as Prince might let you know) and decided that now was a good time to ask for an application, being an ex-sandwich artist. Damn, was I just proud to say that? So I talk with the dude, "the dude" being manager, about getting an online app, and how I was trained to do these duties, and blah de blooo, and then I get the meal with my flat bread. Trying to be cool and knowledgeable I ask if it was still 2 cookies instead of chips of my choosing. Yes it is. Okay then, 2 white chip macadamia nut cookies please. Here is my money, badda bing badda boom. So with that, after carefully collecting my goodies, I still go for the chips. I spend careful time choosing my dill pickle chips, still unsure of how it is fathomable that I enjoy them, since I think pickles are friggen disgusting, but still upset I don't like them, because it seems to be the one thing a lot of people enjoy the most of their sorry little lives. Okay so then I leave. Oh shit I forgot my drink, so I walk back in there and explain I am sick and out of it, where is my cup. So not only do I turn rude and vicious about my glass for beverage, but I already unknowingly stole chips. The line I went over in my head as I walked away, thinking of things I could have said to make me still seem responsible, was "Sorry, you got me all nervous talking about the job and smack." Job and smack?? Instead of job and stuff? Was that gonna make it a turn for the better? And do I really call apple juice, apple jazz and think its the coolest thing since Aerosmith? Chad, you are a different breed. And you may ask yourself how did I get here? Just kidding that is a Talking Heads song, good though am I right? But really, you may ask yourself why did I just read all of this? I may be asking myself why I wrote it. But I will tell you this, having a sick day from work was totes worth it. And the mayhem guy from the Allstate commercials is questionably sexy, being him much older than I. Damn you, Allstate. Makin me feel all NaStY.
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