Sunday, August 22, 2004
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I drove into Tampa last night. It took me 7.5 hrs. The random 20 min TORRENTIAL downpours sucked big time. Gripping the wheel, and squinting to make out some lights in front of me while keeping it at least 70mph can be somewhat stressful.
Speaking of stress, my sister just called wondering what I'm still doing at her apt. I have to go now. She can get angry. This is the email I got from her when I woke up: "Yo Cory, What up?? I am bored at work, nothing much to do today. By the way, my stomach is so upset, I feel like puking. I think it might have been the late night meal you cooked. Do you want to be an nice chap and bring me lunch. i woulld like a sub sandwhich, perferably from publix. The ultimate on wheat bread sounds good. Also, with that you can get all the fixings on it except peppers and onions and oil and vinegar. You are such a pal. So why don't you come on over around 11:30am, doesn't that sound tremendous. There is coffee in the cabinet and creamer in the fridge, so help yourself. Unfortunately I don't have any breakfast food, so you can buy a sub for you too and you can eat with me. It will be great fun. Do you remeber where the hospital is? (She leaves directions here)... Come on into the lab and look for a sign that says Transfusion Services that is where I will be, it is right when you come into the lab. I will call you in a little while. Bethany" |
¶ 10:22 AM 
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I have never understood how people can say they feel like puking and then want to feed their face. How about a cracker, Bethany? A cracker is benign. A wheat sandwich with the fixin's on an upset stomach is like putting beach balls in a washing machine!
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