Tag Archives: #leahwouldramble

Bunny Love? #leahwouldramble

Today is a randomly rambling sort of day.  I don’t think I COULD focus on a single story/topic if my life depended on it.  Not today, at least!  I MIGHT even make some grammatical errors in this sucker! (GASP!!! I KNOW!!)

I had little sleep last night, which is my own fault.  But DAMN IT, the laundry is COMPLETE!!! AND I got a run in this morning. (Thank you, Angela, for making my @ss get outta bed!) 

Needless to say, I’m chugging the coffee (I love you, Irish Cream flavored coffee!), and have a pre-workout Monster lined up for this afternoon.

But, I digress.  While on the run this morning, Angela and I saw a mommy (or daddy?) rabbit and a little baby bunny in the path.  My thoughts were:

“Oooh! Awwwwwwww cute!! I WISH I COULD PET IT! OH SO CUTE!!!!!!!! LEMME TOUCH YOUR FUR; LEMME TOUCH YOURRR FURRRRRRRRS!!!”

 Her thoughts (which she voiced) were:

“Oh you better run away (talking to me…not the rabbit), before that momma tries to attack you.”

 Now this is paraphrased since my memory isn’t working that well today, but I found it HILARIOUS that she’d say that…ABOUT A BUNNY! BA HA HA HA!!! As if Monty Python’s Bunny Beast had found its way to the Bass Pro trail!!

Both bunnies hopped away, probably to maim and destroy some grass.

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Ha ha…I guess did end up sticking to one subject today!  Oh well!

Calder & Kate #leahwouldramble

Riding the Ripcord at Worlds of Fun is certainly an pleasurable thrill.  I’ve now ridden it five times, and one of those times, from this past weekend, was certainly a unique experience. 

Angela and I were to ride it together, and waiting in line ahead of us was a young couple.  My instincts told me that the burly man was of Scottish descent.  (Or, it may not have been my instincts.  It may have been the huge reddish-brown beard and the kilt he was wearing.)  They both seemed nice enough.  What Angela and I didn’t know was that we were about to get to know one of them a lot better than we would have ever wanted!

I have forgotten what the couple’s names were, so for now, I’ll merely refer to them as …hmm… (**Googles Scottish names…**)  Calder and Kate! :-)

As Angela and I boarded the platform, Calder and Kate had just finished they’re ride.  This means that they were hanging horizontally, while wearing those huge apron-like contraptions that hook them to the cord.  They were facing us at that moment, but slowly and surely spun around to grab hold of the platform’s wall as they were being lowered.  My eyes start to naturally glance upwards as I am readying myself for the ride.  But as they do, WHAT do I behold?  YES!

 A HAIRY, SCOTTISH ASS, right there in my face!! 

Calder and I just bonded, and he didn’t even know it!! Or maybe he did.  All I know is that the man was wearing his kilt in the most traditional sense!   It’s too late for me to avert my eyes, and I know that for at least two or three seconds, I was uncontrollably staring.  NOT because it was a nice derriere, but because I was in a state of shock.  This is NOT what I was expecting to see before plummeting to the earth.  AND, in the off chance that the ripcord should break and I nose-dive to my death, was THIS to be the final image in my mind!???   

Calder, you almost ended my life-flashes-before-your-eyes moment with a bang! 

Almost…

Thank God I’m still alive.

 

“Car”nivore #leahwouldramble

Perhaps it is no accident that the word “car” can be found in “carnivorous”.

This morning, I removed my badge from my purse to gain entry to our parking garage, as usual.  I kept hold of the plastic key in one hand after gaining access, drove through the gate and to a parking space.   I shifted the car into park, and, it being early in the morning, causing my klutziness to kick into high gear, I dropped my badge in between my mid-console and seat.

“Crap!”

This chasm where things fall at times can be a seemingly bottomless pit in my car! (Basically, it’s a trap that is comparable to a woman’s purse.)

 Luckily, I could see the badge, and I decided to reach my hand down to retrieve it.  It was slightly out of contact, but then, advancing a little more… I could JUST feel it with my fingertips, so I decided to plunge my hand slightly further until…

“Aha!”

Got it!  It’s very slightly held between two of my fingers, but I GOT it!  I go to remove my hand with the lost-and-now-found badge, and immediately get stuck.  Apparently, I wedged myself down there in a strange twisted position.  At this point I feel like a chimpanzee in one of those monkey-jar-traps.

No problem, I just have to turn a little to the right…and….

My left foot moves up on the floor, and the heel of my shoe finds the hole where there’s a hook for the floor rug.  Of COURSE, that hole is JUST the right size for my heel to GET STUCK.  And does it ever!!

So here I am, my shoe/foot stuck to the floor on my left, and my hand stuck next to the seat on my right! 

“Please, don’t let anyone be watching this spectacle!!!!” I’m thinking fervently.

After a few embarrassing seconds, I wriggle my foot out of my shoe, enabling me to twist to the side and pull up on my hand, releasing it.  Then I pry the shoe from the floor. 

It’s over.  My car tried to eat me, and I survived.

Re-Post PT Massacre #leahwouldblog

This is a re-post from my previous blog, but I felt the need to re-iterate it, because I experienced it again today. :)

There are two types of paper towels that show up in our women’s restroom. There are the cloth-like ones, and the more papery ones. As of this minute, and the moments filling the past couple of weeks, we have been only provided the more papery ones. I have not figured out who came up with this certain material for paper towels, but I don’t think he/she thought it through thoroughly. Just one towel…never works.

As usual, after relieving my bladder of its gallon of water, I go to wash my hands, and then of course, to dry them. I reach for this thin, should-be translucent, piece of paper that is supposed to be useful. At the first touch of my wet fingertips, it completely disintegrates! My hands are still sopping wet, so I reach for another, with the same result! When I try for my third paper towel, only a corner of it will rip off, and the rest remains lodged in the paper towel dispenser with, what I assume to be, its original tree family! This must be why it does NOT want to leave its cramped, little spot, and it battles hard. It fights…to the death! It is not until it is in at least four small, unusable pieces that I finally dislodge it from its happy place. So now that I have disintegrated three paper towels, and dismembered a fourth, I go all gung ho, and plunge my hand deep into the home of these worthless scraps! I pull out a handful of probably 10-20 papers, and finally I have enough to dry my hands-too much, in fact. After my prolonged and frustrating drying of the hands, there have somehow survived at least five dry towels, and as much as I try, I cannot make use of them! My hands are completely dry and now in need of lotion! And as much as I TRY, I can NOT seem to stuff the leftover ones back into the dispenser! It’s as if they’ve decided it is more fun to SPITE me than to return to their proper waiting place! Those five left standing in my hands can just go bury their loved ones, then, because I used the rest of them to their fullest, and as far as I’m concerned, they can now to go paper towel heaven, and they shouldn’t have put up so much of a fight!! If they’d come out easily, then only a few towels would have been sacrificed to the dripping hands!!! But now…there was nothing but unnecessary violence in the bathroom, a PT Massacre.

Dog Days #leahwouldramble

The time is 8:15pm on a Monday night, and the temperature outside is a perfect 70 degrees, when I decide to take a jog with Coda (my Schipperke).  I’ve decided that he is going to build up his endurance/distance jogging along with me.  Being an already-active pup, he’s ahead of me.  All goes well until we come to a crossroads, and there is a car stopping at the stop sign to my right.  Of COURSE, this is the time that the so-far-well-behaved dog decides he must run after a rabbit, which also means he is cutting in front of me with his leash!  I begin to trip, and catch myself, but not before pulling a wanna-be dance routine involving the leash, my jumping on each leg, a half-spin, and the resulting laughter from the car stopped to my right.  I’m pretty sure that Coda did that on purpose, just for a laugh.  I totally flashbacked to that fateful Friday night a few weeks ago…you can go read that for yourself, though.

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The time is now 4:35am, and I have haphazardly dragged myself out of bed so that I can get ready for my first workouts of the day.  The dog decides, uncharacteristically, to wake up along with me and ask to be let outside.  Of course, I sleepily oblige.  In the midst of dressing myself and packing my bag with clothes/necessities, I hear Coda begin to bark.  Normally, when he’s first let out in the morning, he merely does his business, and returns to the door for his breakfast, so this barking is odd behavior.  (ONLY at this point, though…during the day, he’s a barking machine, making sure that NO BIRDS and NO SQUIRRELS enter his domain!) At this point, I know people won’t be happy to hear a yippy dog so early in the morning, so I rush out to retrieve him.  He is quite occupied, switching between barking up a tree and growling at something on the ground.  It’s too dark for me to make out what he is circling, so I slowly walk up to him and command him to sit (which he does…good boy). Then, out of my peripheral vision, I glance the large pair of teeth!  After jumping out of my skin, I take a closer look and see what appears to me a small possum, lying motionless on the ground, but with all teeth bared.  THOSE THINGS LOOK F*CKIN’ FREAKY!!!!!!!!!!  There’s no WAY I’m finding out whether or not that thing’s dead or “playing possum”!  I grab the dog and rush inside.  Is it extremely sad that I ran like a little wimp from a small (albeit largely teethed) rodent of an animal???

Random Rambles 6-3-13 #leahwouldramble

The coffee won today’s battle.  *Rubs burnt fingers on left hand.*   I should’ve known better than to fill the mug to capacity.  Nor should I have been in such a rush to sip!

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Something I’ve learned from owning pets (namely cats/dogs) is that they may be a real pain the ass sometimes, but they truly inspire a lot of happiness.  They’re often the muses for random songs made up on the spot, and they make anyone AND everyone talk at least two octaves higher than their normal voice. LOL!  Just TRY to disagree with me, and you’ll be outnumbered!

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This past weekend was the Color Run, and it was a blast!  I definitely want to participate in it again next year, hopefully with the Maddster.  There were children rolling around and doing “snow angels” in the colored dust, and general merriment had by all! 

I did, however, end up with a part of my anatomy looking like that of a certain Sci-Fi movie.  After my post-run shower, where I literally scrubbed (what I thought was) every inch of my skin into oblivion, I glanced in the mirror, and seemed normal.  It wasn’t until later, as I raised my arms to blow-dry my hair, that I noticed my armpit was still a very bright blue!  I tried to take my loofah and scrub on it without making a mess, but this just ended up in the spectacle of me standing on one foot, leaning over the bathtub, and accidentally spraying droplets of water all over the floor, some of them blue.  I gave up and gave in to the idea of having an “Avatar armpit” for the day.  Also, my right ear is apparently also STILL full of blue, while my left ear is STILL full of yellow.  Good times…

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Someone needs to open a business in the suburban KC area that features roller skating and bumper cars.  I would probably frequent this establishment and enjoy it JUST as much if not MORE than a seven year old.  And I would hope there would be laser lights and glitter that falls from the ceiling!!

Hot As Ice #leahwouldramble

All I needed were two ice cube trays; they were the final component in my ingredients for “Sunday Food Prep”, five days ago.   

 Dead set on my quest to have freezer smoothies as part of my food prep, I added the trays to last week’s Thursday grocery list.  There were three possible areas I knew of in the grocery store where I thought I could find ice cube trays.  To my dismay, not one area held the required item.  After double-checking with a Price Chopper associate, my fears were confirmed.  At this point, it was no matter, because I still had two days until Sunday to find them….somewhere.

Last Sunday arrived, and I knew where I could go.  “Big Lots—they MUST have them!” I thought.  The Hubbs and I searched a few aisles before approaching someone about them.  They directed us to the other end of the store, where our labors continued to provide no fruit!  Another employee then pointed us in another direction, and like little, lost puppies, we followed.  Again, no ice cube trays.  It had seemed all was lost, and we had spent 25 minutes wandering around in vain. 

Then FINALLY, in our last moments, when we’d almost given up, we spotted them.  3 trays in a pack, and one of those packages were ALL OURS!  With giddiness and a sense of accomplishment, we bought the ugly ice cube trays.  It had only taken a total of about 60 minutes within three days to find them! (An hour of life wasted on the search for ice cube trays.)

Fast-forward to last night.  It’s grocery night again, and I’ve returned to Price Chopper.  Unfortunately, my mood at this point in time can be described as “stabby”, since I all really wanted to do was kick things over and make a mess of anything in my path!!  After making it through the produce section successfully (meaning, I didn’t throw fruit at anyone or squeeze any bananas into oblivion), I meander past the “seasonal aisle”. 

BEHOLD!!!!!  ICE CUBE TRAYS!!!!  And NOT ONLY are they in the spot I’d looked for them just a week prior, but they are cheaper than the ones we bought, and they are BEAUTIFULLY COLORED!…

While screaming at the top of my lungs, I plucked each of the green trays from their hanging spot, and chucked it as hard as I could towards the produce section.  “You’re GREEN!! GO LIVE WITH YOUR GREEN RELATIVES!”  Then the orange ones, I threw across the ENTIRE STORE in a perfect spiral just like a football!  I then dropkicked all the blue ones towards the meat counter. “You want ICE?? I’ll give you ICE!!” All the rest of the rainbow colors, I slammed to the ground and then began jumping up and down on them, smashing them into tiny little pieces, so the ground looked as if it was covered in sharp, plastic confetti! 

“Where were you last week when I was looking for you??  What kind of cruel joke IS THIS???  NOW, YOU’RE PAYING FOR IT!!!!!!!!!!!  BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

(zoom out)

I snap back to reality, escaping my PMS-induced imaginary rampage!

Took a deep breath…and continued shopping….

Random Ramblings 5-23 #leahwouldramble

Here’s one of the bad things about having a few more than just a few beers on any given night: 

The next day, I crave junk food.

 (Side note:  I can justify drinking some beer last night ON A WEEK NIGHT (gasp!) with a mere few words: Anchorman Quote-Along.)

My healthy snacks/foods that I brought to work with me taste like poop.  I literally took one bite of my protein pancake, chewed for a few seconds, and then spit it out, back into the sandwich bag. (Yes, I looked all around first to make sure no one witnessed this first hand.) 

  Then I choked down my healthy home-made granola bar instead.  I think I hate raisins again.  And they’re almost IMPOSSIBLE to pick out of these granola bars.  It results in crumbs all over the place and sticky fingers.

Anyways…it is not ALL junk food that I crave.  I merely require ALL THE SALT AND ALL THE GREASE OF THE WORLD!!!!  This would explain why I am shoveling Lay’s potato chips into my mouth at an alarming speed, and before 11:00am, no less.  Not only will I rapid-fire each chip into my mouth, but I fully intend on

dumping the small particle contents from the bottom corner of the foil-lined sack (The most sodium-packed, greasy land of the whole inside of the bag!!) into my mouth!  down my throat! inside my pie-hole! (oh F— all THAT. Insert some innuendo here!)

eating all the crumbs!!

Anyone passing by my desk—beware!  If you come too close, I will assume you’re trying to steal my salty snack, and I might snarl and bite you.  Who doesn’t get territorial over their food when they’re ravenous??? Am I right?  Of course I am.

Now, I want Cheez Its.

#leahwouldramble Do a Happy Dance!

Friday was a blast!  It involved me and my husband, Heather and her BF and her buddy, and Heidi and her Fiancé.  This is merely my side of the night’s story…

 We started early in the afternoon on a rooftop patio, with plates full of spicy nachos, hot wings, and potato boats.  Then, of course, there were the tasty libations.  I am a fan of beer, so I started out my drinking for the evening in a small way…three beers, and NONE of them light.  Then I thought, “Fuck that plate of nachos!  I don’t need no damn dinner!”  (And yes, that thought was in a sort of Southern twang accent.) I was already feeling a bit carefree.

 Eventually, when the need to relieve myself became urgent, I made my way to the restroom, which for some weird reason involved walking completely around the entire restaurant.  I thought it was odd that it was a single restroom…behind the cash register.  Upon reflection, I feared this may have been reserved for the employees, but at that point, it was too late.  That’s right; my piss—all in their toilet bowl!

A later trip with Heather to take another pee-break revealed that there was, indeed, another bathroom with multiple stalls.  It was hidden in the basement, after taking three staircases down, and passing a mysterious room full of various unused/discarded items.  (Seriously, it looked like a dusty flea market in that room!)  Was I expected to find this bathroom before…seriously?? How the hell was I supposed to know!?  I didn’t even see a bathroom SIGN!

 (There was probably a sign.)

When it became time to head over to our next location, my bladder was happily empty, and my tummy was happily full…of beer, with a few floating “nacho rafts”.  At our 2nd stop, we all shared some colorful fishbowls.  They…were…delicious!!!  And the neon straws were pretty exciting as well.  The best part was the fact that this is where my Hubbs joins us.  It was probably a good idea to have a sober/level head around at this point.

Then at our 3rd stop, we enjoyed cups full of more beer.  These cups were larger than my head…literally!  There was some pizza bought at this point, but I still had the “F*ck Food; I want this alcohol to do WORK!!” attitude.  I don’t remember how long we were on the roof of Kelly’s, but I know I liked it.

And finally…we reached our final destination for the evening.  I warned everyone that I didn’t know how to dance.  Oh, sure, I can keep a beat and move my hips with the music, but that’s the extent of it.  I know no dance moves, no tango, no cha-cha, not even a two-step!  Apparently, these facts go RIGHT OUT the window after a few cocktails and a happy night.  

The following may or may not be in perfect order and may or may not be slightly exaggerated.  This is how I was SURE things went down while there (and in parenthesis/italics is how it ACTUALLY looked):

“Wooooo! Let’s get this party started!!”  I holler to my girls as I sashay onto the dance floor. 

(“Woooo! Woooooo! (garbled incoherent something something) Wooooo!!” I yell to anyone who happens to be in a 50 ft radius as I stumble onto the dance floor, then back off the dance floor, then onto it again.)

While dancing, a well-known rap song comes on, and while shaking my ass, I’m rapping every single word perfectly with the artist playing over the speaker, surely impressing anyone around me.

(While ATTEMPTING to stay standing on heels while swaying hips, 2Pac’s “California” comes on.  “Wooooooooooooooooo!!!! I LOVE THIS SONG!!!  Yeeeeeaaaahhhh!!!!”  I mumble every fourth or fifth word AS IF I know the entire song, and stand perfectly still for 3 seconds in the middle of the dance floor just so I can try to remember it…then I shake my ass, while a few fellow dancers back away, frightened.)

While dancing, in a stunning and AMAZING display of grace and poise, I toss my purse into the air, do an awesome spin on my heels, then I catch my purse after my 180-degree turn.

(I start to trip over my heels and chuck my purse onto the ground and across the floor, then spin a few steps sideways, accidentally, while almost landing on my butt, and manage to scoop my purse back up off the ground and stagger back onto my feet as if nothing out of the ordinary happened.)

I notice a young woman on the edge of the dance floor who is wearing a crown.  She looks like she really wants to dance, so I ask her why she isn’t out there with all of us other girls.  She replies that her friends aren’t too into dancing, so I take her hand, and bring her over to join our group.  After all, since she is obviously celebrating one of her last free nights as a Bachelorette; she should REALLY rejoice to the fullest!

(I “dance” towards  a girl wearing a crown, who I assume is a bachelorette, and drag her onto the dance floor.  She is not a bachelorette.  She has just turned 21 and is out legally for the first time with her friends.  As she looks around with wide eyes because she doesn’t know how to respond, I continue to scream, “WOOOO!!! BACHELORETTE TURNED 21…DANCE…Us…YAH!! WOOOOO!!!! (some other garbled nonsense)”  She escaped me 5 minutes later, but not before I could photo-bomb at least one of her friends’ pictures.)

I am back to dancing with Heidi and Heather, and we are all smiles!

(I am back to moving around like a dumbass with Heidi and Heather, and we are all smiles!)

At this point, I’ve decided to bust out a new dance move that I totally made up all on my own, AT THAT very second.  It’s so clever and fun!  I call it ‘The Marionette’, because I basically move my hand in a way that suggests my legs are hooked to strings from somewhere, and then I hold my puppeteer hand over Heather so I can “control the robotic” movements.  Totally Fresh! Totally new!! Everyone is impressed!

(Without any explanation at all, I high-knee walk towards Heather, and then I hold my hand in a claw type shape over her head.  As she looks up, she is yelling the question, “Jellyfish??”, wondering what the f*ck I am doing.  What kind of signal am I making with my hand?  It really does just look like a jellyfish type motion or a 5 legged octopus inking all over the place. I respond loudly, “MA-nette see yah??”   My movements are questionable, at best, and as I glance around, smiling, our significant others are watching from the side, laughing their asses off at me.)

I sing along with any song I know at the top of my lungs.  Everyone is thrilled to hear me!

(I sing along with any song that I know and that I don’t know at the top of my lungs.  Nobody even notices.)

I drop it like it’s hot.

(I fall on my ass.)

While standing back up, I whip my hair around smoothly, while maintaining all of my composure, and continue to move like a pro.

(I fling my hands towards my hair to get it out of my face and manage to knock my earring to the ground, and then step on it, breaking it in half, before snatching it from the ground and sticking it in my pocket.   I stumble to my knees again, before heaving myself back up off the floor and have a near meltdown due to the broken jewelry, then keep dancing, because what else can I do?)

After about nine hours of drinking, celebrating, etc, I felt it was time to go.  My husband and I walked happily to the truck to go home.  An evening well spent!

(After about nine hours of all the celebrating, my husband spends 20  minutes convincing me that it’s time to leave, and after exiting the bar  I unevenly walk towards the truck, barefoot, and serenading all of Westport with a song that no one can understand, but me.)

It’s ENERGY! #leahwouldramble

So…CVS was out of my usual Lo-Carb (blue can) Monster, BUT they did have the White Zero Cal Zero Sugar one…which is also good.  It tastes sweeter than the other, BUT  the energy blend is cut in HALF. AND since they were buy 2 for $4….I figured I’d get two.  Bwa ha ha…(I have a problem.) ;) 

One is to substitute for my coffee this morning…and one is for the pre-drinking, hangover preventative at 2:00…..and of course, I grabbed a Redbull  for Heather as well.  (It sits tauntingly in the fridge as we SPEAK …er…READ…wahtever!)

I walk up to the counter…and I stand there for a few minutes, which is fine because there’s a sweet, old lady in front of me buying assorted items from her shopping cart..including Poise.  (I had to include this, because I don’t care who you are…those are funny…to everyone….like a guy buying tampons.) **Snickers**

Of course, bless her heart, she forgot to have the cashier ring up her last bottle of water….so I’m standing behind her even longer, and at this point, my hands are past-the-point-of-freezing numb from holding onto three CHILLED energy drinks.  I walk up to the counter finally, and the girl pointedly looks at me and asks,

“Tired?”

I totally don’t understand what she means at first. (Blonde moment.)  Did I look tired?  Is it because I didn’t put makeup on yet?  Am I slouching/yawning? What did I do to elicit that question???? Why has NOBODY told me that I have bags under my eyes and I look like some horribly disfigured-from-lack-of-sleep vagrant!!?? (Wait…I dont!)

  And then I remembered what I was purchasing.  THREE energy drinks!! OH!! Great….

Apparently, I looked like an energy-drink-abusive teenager.  I quickly tell her that they are not all mine (As if she believes me at this point…isn’t that wht they always say?), and she smiles…and then the guy who had been waiting behind me pipes up,

“I was wondering that, too! Ha ha ha!”

 Gee. Thanks, Guy.

The thought that I might look like some psychotic person due to my purchase never even occurred to me.  I wonder how many times this has happened before…

Upside: I got to use my coupon for $1.50 CVSExtraBucks before they expired. 

Homicidal Coffee #leahwouldramble

Some may say that life is a balancing act.  This is true, but not just in the metaphorical sense.  I have several circus-like moments throughout my normal workday.  Take my morning coffee mug, for example.  I like to fill it almost all the way to the top with my liquid addiction, plus creamer.  The GREAT part about this is I get to suck down more coffee, once I begin drinking.  The BAD part….walking back to my desk with my coffee-filled mug in hand.  If I make ONE slightly uneven step, the coffee tries to crawl up the side of my mug and jump off the edge of it onto the carpet. 

“No!! Don’t do it, coffee!!!  BACK AWAY FROM THE MUG-LEDGE!!!” 

So, then I have to stop, in the middle of the walkway, to let my suicidal coffee calm its nerves. 

And the trek begins again, slowly and carefully– a tightrope act with no rope, but a mere carpeted floor.  With each step, I pick up speed, hoping that my balance is enough to keep the coffee’s nerves calm enough to stay in the safety of its cup.  Of course, the entire time, I am HOPING that no one is watching this horrible circus routine, because it would surely deserve rotten fruit and peanuts being thrown at it. 

Alas!  The brown liquid tries to slosh again, and before I can stop it this second time, a splash if it has landed on my hand.  How the hell am I supposed to remain balanced and steady handed when scalding coffee BITES MY HAND!!  It was never suicidal after all…it wants to kill me.  Homicidal Coffee made  its first strike, inevitably, because it knows I plan on drinking it, a.k.a. ending its unbalanced, dark, caffeinated life!

 I arrive at my desk, finally, with a wet, burning hand, and a now messy-drips-down-the-side mug, and take my first gulp.  The battle isn’t over, as I so wrongly assumed.  It is now burning my tongue in a last-ditch effort of survival.  **Chugs coffee out of spite.**