Shaun Lewis: the Man, the Myth, the Legend

??????? ??????a! (”It’s Friday!”)

This past week has gone by much faster than I originally anticipated, and it is now Friday. To my surprise, the adjustment from sleeping 14 hours a day (and existing in a quasi-comatose state when awake, I might add) to classes everyday and doing homework associated with those classes was not very difficult for me. I most certainly anticipated a much harder struggle involving countless gallons of coffee. In addition, I figured the coffee would lead to a 6 pack-a-day cigarette binge, and ultimately a dehabilitating addiction to heroin. I planned on entering a rehab center near the end of the quarter a nervous, chain-smoking shell of my once glorious self.

Luckily, that doesn’t seem like it will happen this quarter. Spring quarter is still up for grabs though.

Like I said before, it’s Friday. Do I have plans? Of course not. I never have plans on Friday. Do I care that I am wasting away the precious years of my youth? Strangely enough, I do not. When I’m forty-six and going through a mid-life crisis, I may look back at these years and weep. As it is right now, however, I am not forty-six and, in all truth, I am quite content.

Aside: When I say I “have no plans”, that does NOT mean I am sitting in my room next to a box of tissues watching Black Beauty by myself. That only means that I have not planned anything in advance. I will be doing something, but with who and what it is, I do not know. Mysterious, eh?

On the homefront:

As pathetic as it sounds, I still have not finished unpacking from my return. It’s been almost an entire week and I still have a few remaining boxes left. Nothing really substantial, I mean, all my clothes are put away, but nevertheless there are still things that need to be finished. A certain “lack of motivation” seems to be the culprit here, as it is most of the time.

I have noticed that instead of putting stuff back to where it should go, I’ve just been shoving it underneath the bed. The stuff is shoved neatly, of course. “Stacked” would be a much better way to describe it. I guess it’s kind of like a fine woman, you know, “built like a brick house.” Thank The Commodores for that fantastic line, ladies and gentlemen.

Eventually, I WILL get everything put away. Probably near week 8 of the quarter. That gives me a nice week and a half to enjoy the cleanliness.

On the topic of “cleanliness” (see above paragraph), my MicroFridge? looks like the scene of localized nuclear detonation. For those you who do not know, a MicroFridge? is the college equivalent of a refrigerator. MicroFridges can get very cold if you allow them (never, ever use the “High” setting, kids — trust me). What makes this story more exciting, and I will admit that I honestly did not know this, is when faced with extremely cold temperatures, Pepsi cans can, nay, will explode at the earliest available time. By earliest available time, I mean when whoever put them in the MicroFridge? is just starting to fall asleep at night.

Strangely enough, when soda cans explode in a MicroFridge? at 1 in the morning, they sound exactly like a bird smacking into a window. This particular set of cans sounded ,curiously enough, like a bird smacking into a window 12 individual times. It wasn’t until I opened the MicroFridge? door the next morning expecting a caffeinated treat to find out what really happened.

In all honesty, sometimes you just have to ask yourself, “Does God actually hate me or am I really just that riddled with bad luck?”

Right now, I’m thinking the latter…