I spent pretty much the whole weekend with people (and I know this will be really hard for you to believe, but I don't have a single picture from the whole thing). It was Rachel's birthday weekend so we did all sorts of fun stuff with some Starbucks mixed in, and just had a yummy time all around.
Before we go any farther, I have to say that there is a barista at Starbucks that I know. I know that I know him. There is no way in the world I don't know him. But, he denies it! I knew that I recognized him, so we made our conversation very loud and mentioned "TACOMA" and "KANSAS CITY" "IHOP" "I hope I can go to ONETHING" "I love hearing ALLEN HOOD preach" to which Amy added a random "MIKE BICKLE". Yet alas, he took almost no notice. My stomach turned over and over, because I knew that I would have to just come right out and ask him. So, I did. And he denied it. All of it. He said he hadn't heard of the Furnace and the only time he was in Kansas City was for some school or something. But he told me that his name was James.
We happened to go back to Starbucks the next night, and he was there. He recognized me, waved hello and I said "Hello, James!" and then added "I'm sorry, but, I really feel like I recognize you." No headway was made. It didn't help that I looked utterly RIDICULOUS because SOMEHOW the ugly stuffed animal that was appointed my "littly buddy" had somehow found its way out of the car and into Starbucks with us [amy!] , where we all refused to hold it, which resulted in it dropping to the floor. The trials, the trials.
Anyways. this guy James. If you happen to be able to think of a dark-haired James, fairly tall and pretty skinny that has a (noticable) limp and how I know him, let me know. Because I know that I know this man. But where?? Where? If you had any idea of how IDENTICAL his face is to someone I've been around before, plus the IDENTICAL limp, you would understand how when I'm in Starbucks I feel like I'm going absolutely insane because I can't think of it. My idea is to put out a facebook APB for him and try to figure this mystery out. Speak up if you have any ideas, so that he can be redeemed from his identity that we call "lying, limping James."
Onto more head-banging. Today in gym, the ball got thrown at my face. I was turned away, and the guy threw the ball and called my name; I didn't respond and the ball whacked me in the jaw. Funny, it made the other side of my head hurt. From that moment on I had this conspiracy theory about how one side of my face was lower than the other side.
Then (this isn't really head-banging, but it still belongs in this post, I believe), I scraped my knuckles on my dad's door. I was innocently going to the office, and it just took the skin right off. It was still quite ouchie about an hour later.
And to top it all off (literally), coming up the stairs, I banged my head. And it was no ordinary bang. You would have thought that I bounce up the steps, because basically I stepped onto the first step, then bounced up towards the second one, only, when I bounced the top of my head (the whole top of my head) slammed into the ceiling. It was so shocking. It was as if it hurt super bad without actually feeling horrible pain. I sat down on the steps instantaneously and almost melted immediately into tears. Only I took a second to think about it. And then I melted into tears. Not so fun. If I can't walk straight or end up in a coma or just think that 2+2 equals six million, eight hundred and forty-two thousand, five hundred and ninety-five tomorrow, you'll know why. Just pick me up and carry me away to somewhere where I can rest.
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In other news, the cat still doesn't have a name. And I need a hug.
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