the dance of the ink riddled fingers

don’t trust your friends

Posted in how was your day? by enisea on 08/02/2010

I woke up this morning to round two of my phone’s snooze, 6:11am. I completely slept through the original alarm I assume, and only remember Killer Queen vaguely accompanying my dreamscape character like a shadow that eventually shook me (however unwilling) into a mild consciousness.  My eyelashes weighed more this morning, assisting gravity in pulling my eyelids low. I trudged upstairs, with the pillow and blanket I had borrowed for camping downstairs with. I return them to their usual sittings, spareroom and bedroom respectively. Then at the door of the bathroom I catch a glimpse of myself with additional dark oval where the ridge of my nose and forehead gradually meet, I’m washed with immediate panic. My first thoughts was that this was an unsual natural occurence. Had one of my pimples gone horribly wrong? Had a melanoma busied itself overnight and made my head it’s home? These slightly incredulous thoughts made a round in my mind in the two seconds I took to pause, stare and bound closer to the mirror. I was relieved to discover at closer assessment that this spot was tinged blue, and in fact familiar to the blue of the permanent marker used usually to illustrate jokes on DJ’s feet while he accidentally sleeps. Then wave two of panic rinsed my senses, realising that I’d been sleeping for about 4 hours and thus given the marker reasonable time to set in. Horrified at the thought of walking into a meeting of 95% strangers at 7am, or for even a day or two, I hurriedly snatch tissues and splash them with water and watch my spot of dark blue melt into non-existence! My exclamation of the morning reverberating, “Such children!”

This is only what happens if you fall asleep among friends in your own lounge room with permanent markers on the table. Moral of the story: do not trust friends. They enjoy making you look stupid…probably just as much as you enjoy making them look stupid.

Ps: having marched up ferntree gully’s thousand steps to the incline of up to 32degrees celsius, my head feels light and fluttery, and I am also certain my past and present tense has been somehow confused in my story telling today…


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