Karmic Justice

It has become one of those Sundays.  You know, the ones where you attribute your laziness and lack of hygiene to it merely being Sunday.  For some reason, us lazies all universally think that the distance of the sun from the earth on this particular day makes us extra tired and IT IS A PERFECTLY LEGITIMATE EXCUSE.  Or not.  Maybe it's flying spaghetti monster magic or where Jupiter is in the sky, but I'm blaming all of the above because I finally dragged my sorry butt out of bed and made it to the library to attempt some study time.  We can all see how that's going, MUAHAHA.  *ahem*

Anyways, this was not, of course, before making four hot dogs and a hamburger.  I slightly regret this decision because of the sodium content.  Totally could have gotten more out of that bag of Cooler Ranch Doritos.  I'm pretty sure that's how nutrition works, you try and get the most out of your food before you get diabetes and get wheels for feet.  I'm also obviously aware of all the modern medicine techniques for loss of limbs (I gotta stop watching so much Mad Men...).  I do get my choice of rims, right?

But do you know what is great?  I can actually open my mouth to put this food in where it be digested and turned into bile.

Now gather up children and get on my magic school bus* where we travel back two weeks to a Friday morning when Ryan woke up and screamed.  I being Ryan in case you know anyone else by that name.  I yelled...very masculine-ly.  Grrrr, football and camping--ow my face!

Me before the incident.

Of course, my food-hole only opened about an inch since the scream incurred due to a sudden crack in my jaw.  For the rest morning, I tried massaging my jaw since this has occasionally happened before but this was on a whole new level.  Breakfast was shoved into my face so as to get some kind of energy into me since I was going to be traveling to the Salty Lake only hours later.

BUT PLOT TWIST.

All of this food that was shoved into my unwelcoming mouth and down my intestines was not sticking--in any sense of the word.  I was experiencing what one would call the "the shits."  Basically anything and everything that was going in was being blendi-fied and then I'd just sit and cry throwing my fists in the air and cursing everything that ever existed.

I can talk about my bowel issues with you guys, right?  I'm pretty sure we're close enough for that, internet friends forever!  *as I scoot closer to you and handcuff your wrist to mine...* NEVER LEAVE ME.

So basically my body decided that it wanted nothing in it all weekend since my mouth was locked up like a psychopath's basement and my other end had become a new Niagra.  I, of course, refused to have any of this and even attempted to eat a Chipotle burrito.  Because you know if you ignore a problem it goes away!

For those who have been to Chipotle, you know that the burritos have the circumference of a newborn baby's head and I CONQUERED...almost.  Which is frustrating considering I used to be able to almost fit my entire fist in my mouth.

With all this unpleasantness falling upon me at once, I began to wonder what I had done to deserve it.  It OBVIOUSLY wasn't something I had eaten or a stress condition, so it must be attributed to the universe and what I had put out there.  But who had I wronged?

Was it the kid on crutches I didn't hold the door open for?  In my defense, I honestly thought he was going in the opposite direction so by the time he hobbled to my door I had speed-walked by.

Maybe it was how curtly I had responded to a female student in my statistics class when she had asked me what a certain symbol was by drawing it in the air.  I also responded with an air symbol that was probably easier to read.  Just kidding mom!  I made her cookies and knit her a sweater with the symbol and it's meaning on it.

It must have been the time when I told my friend I couldn't hang out because I needed to catch up on some homework.  Did I have homework to catch up on?  Yes, but it's like the remote whispered sweet nothings into my ear and told me to just keep pressing play on my Netflix queue.  Next thing I knew, it was two days later and I had eaten half a box of Life cereal.  Literally, the box.

Oh, now I have it.  All the times I had taken my younger sister and sat on her, smothered her, thrown her, put my socks on her face, put her face in my armpit, or eaten her food, must have added up and come back to bite me in the ass.  By the way, happy birthday tomorrow smelly.

I'm all better by now though.  After a visit to the doctor and some heating pads/ice cubes on my face, my body has resumed its normal functions and I no longer fear being lactose intolerant.  All this pain at once just got me wondering whose toes I had stepped on to get everything at once.  It even made me consider being more observant of my behavior so that if I do receive some of that karmic justice, I might receive it in smaller doses.  Things like stubbing my toe or watching any movie with Amanda Seyfried in it.

But that way of life is literally impossible unless I tied myself up now and someone just had to feed me every day.  Even then, I'd probably be pissing off that guy.

So, I guess I'm just going to have to deal with the occasional flare-up of karma since that must be how it is for me.  Some people get the little ones dispersed over time, I get a large one for one weekend (and yes, my jaw locked for 3 days, I hated all food that wasn't flat).  Kind of like how some people go bald slowly and some drop it like it's hot.

I'm going to drop it like it's hot.





*Anyone remember that show and how your teacher would try and legitimately try and use it as a source of knowledge so they could maybe get 10 minutes of peace and quiet?  Bless those teachers and the creators of this cartoon for teaching me that learning doesn't occur unless you have a kooky red-haired teacher who wears earrings corresponding to the lesson.  I'm waiting for little guillotine earrings when A Tale of Two Cities is read.