Funny.
Those damn cherries did a number on me. I couldn’t get out of the building before I suffered from projectile shitting. I staggered around floor after floor in FEGS, looking for a toilet, holding my stomach only to find one stall after the other filled. Finally I found one on the seventh floor and USED IT. I blew a fucking gasket needless to say.
But my stomach did not find relief, but instead continued to growl like some angry beast, pacing about in the pit of my stomach, threatening to pounce. I struggled uptown on the 1 and was lucky to catch the express home. Upon reaching my bathroom on my floor Lord knows it felt as if my entire skeletal system collapsed and poured out of my anus. It was so bad that my sphincter burned like a ring of fire, leaving me on my hands and knees, begging to god t make it stop.
Finally, crisis over, I limped back home, the loser in a three way gang bang and got in front of the computer for a little, then went to sleep early. Because of turning in so early, I awoke at one in the morning, unable to go back to sleep. I had no coffee in the house, so I made none. Instead I got behind my system and blogged. I blogged and blogged…and then wrote emails until it was time to go.
Getting over to FEGS, I find that the day is indeed changing and is not going to be like yesterday. That’s what I get for dreaming. Today was orientation, where we were explained many things, over and over and over again. Mostly they were things dealing with administration. Remember the little tin god? It came out of the closet today. I was not placed in the center of the room for us all to bow down to, but it’s on it’s way. I made a partial joke when talking about the strictures of time with FEGS….
To really set this up, I have to bring out that with FEGS you have to have an excuse for every single day that you are not in. Every single day. It has to be in writing, it has to have official letterhead, or a business card attached, it can’t come from your mother, it cannot be hand written, it must be signed, doctors must leave their doctor’s stamp, god must press his thumbprint on it, you must place the seal of your blood across it….you get the point. Well, I was dumb enough to raise my hand and ask about the vacation that we have coming up on the 4th of July. “What vacation?” the instructor asks, raising an eyebrow.
This is life in FEGS.
More acronyms. I have to stay until I take a series of tests, which come up on Monday, where afterwards, I’ll be signing off on my IPE (Individual Personal Evaluation), if I miss a day, I can be marked FTC (Failure to Comply)…bad things happen when you are marked FTC. The boogieman jumps out and takes a lock of your hair.
What the fuck is all of this? I suffer this fucking swill until 12:30, which takes forever to get here. Really. It takes so long that I start chewing on my own dick to pass the time. Cheese and Rice!! Lunch time does come, and none too soon. I literally jump out of my chair and head for the fucking hills, hitting the street and striking the bricks. Today I walk uptown for thirty minutes, moving briskly, watching the blocks peel away, and right there, in the spring-like afternoon, with the sun shining, and the day looking like new, I had the quaint thought about continuing on.
Just going on. Heading in any direction that I saw fit, like I did two years ago when I lived on the street. I had the entire city to roam when I was homeless, without a FEGS to tell me what to do, and where to be and for how long. I was free to go and come where I wished. I stopped at my thirty-minute mark and inhaled deeply. Would I do it? Just continue to head north. FEGS would get the message in a few days when I didn’t return. They would mark me FTC and throw bad words at me, probably cut my benefits for two months and make me go through the entire rigmarole of dealing with the Orcs at the Mines of Moria all over again, up and down the gauntlet of brutality that applying for state help is, the entire pyramid of pain, just to get right back here where I started. Right back here, in this course, right back here on this block.
I turned around and walked the half hour back to FEGS. It was time to meet the attendance call before the Instructor began the next class.
Hobobob
Source URL: http://idontwanttobeanythingotherthanme.blogspot.com/2009/06/when-mind-meet-feet.htmlThose damn cherries did a number on me. I couldn’t get out of the building before I suffered from projectile shitting. I staggered around floor after floor in FEGS, looking for a toilet, holding my stomach only to find one stall after the other filled. Finally I found one on the seventh floor and USED IT. I blew a fucking gasket needless to say.
But my stomach did not find relief, but instead continued to growl like some angry beast, pacing about in the pit of my stomach, threatening to pounce. I struggled uptown on the 1 and was lucky to catch the express home. Upon reaching my bathroom on my floor Lord knows it felt as if my entire skeletal system collapsed and poured out of my anus. It was so bad that my sphincter burned like a ring of fire, leaving me on my hands and knees, begging to god t make it stop.
Finally, crisis over, I limped back home, the loser in a three way gang bang and got in front of the computer for a little, then went to sleep early. Because of turning in so early, I awoke at one in the morning, unable to go back to sleep. I had no coffee in the house, so I made none. Instead I got behind my system and blogged. I blogged and blogged…and then wrote emails until it was time to go.
Getting over to FEGS, I find that the day is indeed changing and is not going to be like yesterday. That’s what I get for dreaming. Today was orientation, where we were explained many things, over and over and over again. Mostly they were things dealing with administration. Remember the little tin god? It came out of the closet today. I was not placed in the center of the room for us all to bow down to, but it’s on it’s way. I made a partial joke when talking about the strictures of time with FEGS….
To really set this up, I have to bring out that with FEGS you have to have an excuse for every single day that you are not in. Every single day. It has to be in writing, it has to have official letterhead, or a business card attached, it can’t come from your mother, it cannot be hand written, it must be signed, doctors must leave their doctor’s stamp, god must press his thumbprint on it, you must place the seal of your blood across it….you get the point. Well, I was dumb enough to raise my hand and ask about the vacation that we have coming up on the 4th of July. “What vacation?” the instructor asks, raising an eyebrow.
This is life in FEGS.
More acronyms. I have to stay until I take a series of tests, which come up on Monday, where afterwards, I’ll be signing off on my IPE (Individual Personal Evaluation), if I miss a day, I can be marked FTC (Failure to Comply)…bad things happen when you are marked FTC. The boogieman jumps out and takes a lock of your hair.
What the fuck is all of this? I suffer this fucking swill until 12:30, which takes forever to get here. Really. It takes so long that I start chewing on my own dick to pass the time. Cheese and Rice!! Lunch time does come, and none too soon. I literally jump out of my chair and head for the fucking hills, hitting the street and striking the bricks. Today I walk uptown for thirty minutes, moving briskly, watching the blocks peel away, and right there, in the spring-like afternoon, with the sun shining, and the day looking like new, I had the quaint thought about continuing on.
Just going on. Heading in any direction that I saw fit, like I did two years ago when I lived on the street. I had the entire city to roam when I was homeless, without a FEGS to tell me what to do, and where to be and for how long. I was free to go and come where I wished. I stopped at my thirty-minute mark and inhaled deeply. Would I do it? Just continue to head north. FEGS would get the message in a few days when I didn’t return. They would mark me FTC and throw bad words at me, probably cut my benefits for two months and make me go through the entire rigmarole of dealing with the Orcs at the Mines of Moria all over again, up and down the gauntlet of brutality that applying for state help is, the entire pyramid of pain, just to get right back here where I started. Right back here, in this course, right back here on this block.
I turned around and walked the half hour back to FEGS. It was time to meet the attendance call before the Instructor began the next class.
Hobobob
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