Tuesday, October 12, 2010

My Stupid Head

I was in a bad mood today, and to make matters worse I had a devil of a time finding something to blame it on.  The weather was nice, my soup was hot but not so hot that it burned my tongue, and my hair practically did itself.  Have you ever heard anything more awful?
Glaring at the sky, the mountains, and my complacent hair (really, I can’t remember the last time it was that easy to do) I walked to class in high dudgeon.  I narrated my feelings in my head with over-complicated words like dudgeon and irascible and composed an emotional poem that I planned on submitting to a “Shakespeare hates your emo poems” contest (the contest doesn’t exist yet so I’m starting one in November). 
But I still had nothing to blame my mood on.  It couldn’t be my fault because I’m almost a perfect person and my hair looked nice.  I tried blaming it on the leaves crunching under my feet as I made my way to physical science.  Some of them weren’t crunching nearly loud enough, and I can’t see how anyone could stay in good humor after being abused like that.  Stupid leaves.
I added the leaves to my poem (Wet leaves that refused to crunch beneath/my morose, cantankerous shoes) but it wasn’t very convincing.  I tried to think of other things to blame my mood on.  Men, people who part their hair down the middle, and the relatively new writers of Spongebob Squarepants crossed my mind.  They were all good options, but they lacked the umph I needed for when I would complain to my friends and random people on the street later.  I needed something dramatic like my hands falling off or my hamster maxing my credit card on the shopping channel.  Stupid hamster.
A few moronic poems later, I was left with nothing but a splitting headache.  Not even one plausible excuse for my belligerence.  Stupid brain.
The headache grew like a nasty, radioactive super-plant and I was forced to take some advil and a two-hour nap.  My head is still throbbing, though.  I suppose a good eight-hour sleep will help abate the pain, but who can tell?  And I still haven’t thought of a plausible excuse for my bad mood.  Stupid almost-migraine headache.

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