The time is 5:45 and I am listening to reggae of some sorts. It is playing at the Starbucks I am at. Oh, the Starbucks I am at happens to be overlooking Laguna Beach. The weather is 60 degrees, the breeze is refreshing and the sun just finished setting. Whenever I wonder why I am paying out the butt to live in SoCal, I just need to come down here and remind myself. It’s weird, I have been here almost a year now but I have only been to the beach four or five times. I think I should make a pledge to go the beach once a month to write and/or brainstorm and check out chicks. Of course, somehow this time I ended up driving down to Laguna with a guy I am friends with. I kid you not, this is the gayest thing I have done in a long time. It was near sunset and all along the boardwalk were these cute little couples cuddling and watching the sun set into the ocean, and here I am leaning against the rail with this dude. (Technically we were watching the surfers.) Then we went to Starbucks afterwards and sat outside and talked for awhile. It was such a romantic evening. Since then at least half a dozen people have told me Laguna is a popular spot for homosexuals. I swear I am never going down there without a girl again.
And now it’s time for…
Great Moments in OCD History!
Fair citizens, I delight you today with not one, but two, great moments in OCD history. The first involves me personally, the second does not, but I digress, so let us begin. Due to the layout of the building I work in, the restrooms are outside of the building, sort of like a gas station. This means they stay locked for safety reasons. Their being locked has the unfortunate side effect of having to have a key to open it. Now everyone who works here has their own key, but clients, clients are different, they have to use the general purpose key kept at the receptionist desk, much like the school hall pass or something. So I found myself being the only one up front when a client comes in and asks for the key. Fear rises within me. I mean, different people are taking this thing to the bathroom with them. I HOPE they leave it on the sink counter, but probably they set it on the filthy toilet or on the toilet paper dispenser. For all I know, they could have dropped it in the toilet itself. This poses quiet a problem for me. I eye it suspiciously on the desk, sitting there like a coiled viper, waiting to bite me. I briefly consider giving him my key, but my key is clean and kept safely in my pocket. No one is allowed to use my key, lest they contaminate it and make it ceremonially unclean. I slowly reach for the key, anxiety building. Right when I touch it the snake bites. What did I just expose myself to? Hundred of diseases could be crawling all over it, from scurvy to Ebola. I was sure to die a painful death. I hand him the keys and tell him to go quickly go God’s sake, get out of here! I then calmly walk out of the room until I round the corner. Then I hauled ass to the kitchen, lathered my hands up, scrubbed them for thirty seconds, rinsed them and repeated the process one more time. Hopefully I will live, but don’t send flowers if I die, instead make a generous donation to the OCD of America Foundation.
The second story is a first for Great Moments because it doesn’t involve me directly but rather a story I read that troubled me greatly. So yesterday I read about two survivors who had been afloat at sea for 25 days after their fishing ship had sunken somewhere around Indonesia/Australia. They said that everyone else drowned, but as the ship was going down, they saw a cooler, yes a cooler, about the size of a desk floating out of the ship, so they swam to it and got inside it. They floated in this thing, in shark infested waters for 25 days and somehow survived. The article said that they were dehydrated and that currently doctors were trying to find out how they survived and what they drank to stay alive. What they drank to stay alive?? Out in the sea for 25 days!! The answer should be obvious to anyone! THEIR URINE! They had to right? I mean the body can’t go more then a few days without water and salt water is no good, so what else is there? I’m pretty sure this cooler wasn’t filled with Desani or Miller Lite. Immediately, to my horror, I realized this is what must have happened and I wanted to puke. I tried to picture myself in this situation. (Why I have no idea) Cupping my hands, lifting the warm liquid to my lips, you get the picture, and as the anxiety of just thinking about it rose I realized that if I was ever lost at sea, I would be just as good as dead. Not even to get out of the deepest darkest pit of some grotesque, unimaginable hell would I drink urine. If God appeared to me and said, “Verily Jefferson, I say unto thee, in order to pass through the pearly gates and have an inheritance in mine kingdom, all ye has to do is drinketh up of thine own urine,” (This is the KJV of the Lord, not the NAS, NIV and certainly not the Message.) then I would be damned straight to hell.
If I was in a cooler floating in shark infested waters I would do my best to attract a shark and throw myself at it, hoping it will end me quickly rather then drink the lemonade of death. Of course, the worst assumption here on my part is that they drank their OWN urine, the alternative, yeah, we aren’t going to go there.
You Got To Have Faith:
I think it would be funny if there was a faith healer who healed appliances and electronics instead of people. I can see it now, a long, line of people bringing in busted printers, blown speakers, VCR’s, coffee pots, 8 track players, Commodore 64’s, and lots of HP Desktops. He would lay hands on them, say a prayer and yell “Be healed!” and lo, they would work! Instead of just blowing on them like Benny Hinn does he could just use a can of condensed air that you use for cleaning keyboards. Just spray on the Spirit and bam! It is healed! Now that is somebody I would tithe to.
Well folks that about does it for this entry. Hope you enjoyed it and catch you next.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
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