Drunk With Boredom

This has definitely been one of the most truly uneventful, boring, sheerly sloppy and pathetic weekends I’ve had in a long time. In comparison of course. In fact, just realizing how boring this all has been prompted me to cease all boring tasks at hand, like filling out Americorp paperwork, cleaning my bedroom space which surrounds my air mattress, taking out the recycling and actually inspired me to write this entry. Close to an hour ago, I went for a walk outside to talk to my friend Justin in Califor-nia. It was real nice. The air was cool, the sun just began to set, it was quiet. This was the first time I step foot outside all weekend. The rest of the day involved planning all the fun things I will do when my parents come to visit me back in Denver in 2.5 weeks, in addition to taking care of my fundamental needs like eating, pooping, watching Aladdin.

This isn’t completely by choice. Let me explain. Friday night I hurt my ankle during the Flogging Molly concert at the Irish Heritage Fest on Harriet Island. I was Irish gigging in this space a young lad made for me in the mosh pit. That’s until I messed up and did one of those moves where your foot misses the ground and you step on your ankle, creating a t-square of pain, ankle perpendicular to leg. The thing that is most stupid is no one even touched me at the time of injury. Surrounded by people who could have caused this accident, I have no one to blame. The same thing could have just as easily happened at home. All of this went down just shortly after I got there, during their third or forth song. I quickly realized I needed to get out of there and was lucky to be able to follow this group of people that were carrying this girl that was in much worse shape then me. So I sat in the back, next to people sitting in chairs, tending my injured foot contemplating if I should go to the first aid tent, which required locating the first aid tent, which required bypassing hundreds of drunk Irishmen that could easily step on my foot. I decided to say seated, until I got bored and hungry enough to get up and test out my foot. I spent 5 dollars on a chicken sandwich the size of a white castle hamburger and another 5 on a scone and an ice tea. I hate festivals, with their food tickets. The food didn’t make me feel any better. Neither did the three mile walk back to the car.

Regardless of the tone of the first and second paragraph, although boring, this weekend has been great! I did nothing but sleep, talk on the phone and read. I loved it. Sometimes when boredom is a rarity, it is also bliss. Holler.

Ah crap. What a perfect place to stop writing, why do I gotta screw everything up by remembering more things that I feel is necessary to write about. So in the process of walking back to the car after the show, Gabe and I completed the process of assigning street baller names to everyone on our team. The list as of now stands, no changes.

Team A
Gabe – Swiffer
Tay – Bibel
Katie – Hey Steve
Jeffrey – Shwibbey

Team B
Audrea – Holy Mackrel
Nate – Toodeli Doo
Dave – Hi Ho Cherrio
Trish – Fe Fe

Injured List
Michele – Crack Corn

Last week also marked the completion of one of the activities on my life list. I finished a Crave Case of White Castle with my friends. Although a small goal, a goal nonetheless, not to be belittled or dismissed. It was a glorious way to finish off our day of service. On the way home I proudly displayed the case to people on the road and at a red light I gave one of the tasty little burgers away to the guy driving next to us. Yum!