Thank you!..... Thank you!..... Thank you!

One of the odd traits that is included on my resume of qualities is sleepwalking. Yep, I'm a sleepwalker.

Although it's common for young kids and teenagers to sleepwalk, no one seems to have informed my body about that fact because I still do. It doesn't occur often (or, at least not in a way that I or people around me have noticed or pointed out) , but I have been on a bunch of sleepwalking adventures.


When I'm in a sleepwalking episode, my body and face clearly look awake (my eyes are open, I walk around normally - no stumbling) but it's clear that "Thomas isn't home". "I", used in loose terms because it's not complete my personality in the driver's seat, am very single-minded and frankly stupid when sleepwalking. I may or may not have glazed-over eyes. I don't react normally to people around me. Based on other peoples' descriptions of my behavior, it's as if I'm acting/reacting like I exist in a dream world: some dreams have wacky logic that you adamantly know is true, but when you wake up you realize that reality was just so dumb and illogical.

I don't remember any of my sleepwalks, unless I wake up in the middle of them. The few times that happens, it takes me a very confusing 20 minutes to figure out the difference between my sleepwalking, dream-like world and reality. I have sat in the bathroom for 30 minutes before, trying to decide if I was in my house or if I should still be trying to run away from the first mate on a 15th century navy boat. I'm not joking at all.

The most recently amusing sleepwalking episode occurred 2 or 3 years ago, when I slept over at Liz's family home. See had made a huge special dinner (as I recall it was a "Hey Jesus died this weekend so I want to invite 12 of my favorite people over to dine with me!") and I decided to sleep over. Long after I had fallen asleep, Liz and Tim (who was also staying the night) were still quietly talking in the same room. They watched me get up off the couch, walk over to the tv-cabinet and start looking through all the drawers. They asked me what I was doing but I completely ignored them; I was much too interested in rummaging through the drawers.

Next I made my way to the kitchen, where I was looking through all the cabinets as well. Liz and Tim were right behind me. They caught on to the fact I was sleepwalking, since I had previously told them stories about my episodes. Eventually, I recognized their presence by saying "I'm trying to find the bathroom", as I kept rummaging under the sink. Liz told me where the bathroom was, even though I already knew where it was since I had visited her house plenty of times. I ignored her, and the bathroom on the main floor, as I walked toward her sleeping parents' and siblings' bedrooms, intent on finding this mysterious bathroom in some drawer.

After some more coaxing and before I the chance to freak out the sleeping [Liz's Last Name] family, they convinced me to check out the bathroom in the basement. Apparently I didn't want to ignore that one. It seemed to work - I walked in, closed the bathroom door. Liz and Tim went back upstairs.

20 minutes passed without me reappearing.

Liz told her brother, who had just appeared, to go check on me downstairs. He apparently came to the bathroom, called out my name, and waited for a response. I didn't answer. He cautiously opened the unlocked bathroom door to find me standing directly against the door, facing him. He described the situation as one of those horror movies where the killer is as close as possible to the victim before the scary jump moment. Naturally, I was playing the killer's role. I freaked the shit out of him.

Without taking any notice of Liz's brother's reaction of terror, I went upstairs to lie back down on the same couch, where I was sleeping before my grand bathroom search began. Liz and Tim were sitting back in their chairs talking. It seemed like I was back asleep...

... but I got up again. I walked over to Liz, put my hand on her shoulder and whispered with the utmost sincerity:
"Thank you!"
I then went back to the couch to sleep.
Then I got up again. I went back over to Liz, put my hand on her shoulder again and whispered, again, with utmost sincerity:
"Thank you!"
Then, I, again, went back to the couch.

Nope it wasn't done yet. Once more, with feeling, I got up, went to Liz, put my hand on her shoulder and whispered "Thank you!", before returning to the couch.

After being stuck in a short loop, I finally stayed asleep. I woke up next morning to Liz and Tim's big grins and my own embarrassment. That was the second time that I slept-walk outside of my own home and in front of non-family members.

In all honesty, that specific event made me a bit apprehensive about my sleepwalking. I have no memories of the majority of these events so it feels like my conscious or personality is not in control of the things I could potentially do. What if I had decided to just whip out my dick and start waking off!? Imagine the story they'd tell me the next day! Or maybe they'd hit me to wake me up and then I would be incredibly confused, with my dick in my hand, feeling like a huge pervert! Uuuhhh...

But oh well, I can't control it...so I might as well enjoy the good stories.

WoW

Some people get presents for their birthday and others give out presents on their birthday. Here's my cheap present to you all:

I'm not sure if it's real, but I find it all so hilarious. The best parts are:

- screaming like a pterodactyl
- headbutting the bed
- shaking as if he's possessed
- his sudden wardrobe change
- trying to shove the controller in his ass

Enjoy.

Looking Back

Mike: "Remember back in highschool, when you passed my chemistry exam for me?"

Me: "Haha, Oh ya..."

Mike decided that this was a good time to recount this story to the group of friends:

So [Friend] and I are sitting in a classroom on our own, trying to do the make-up exam to pass the chemistry course. We're both really bad in Grade 11 chemistry (Quebec students graduate from highschool at Grade 11) and we had no idea what to write on the exam we were given.

Thomas then walks into the classroom. He knows we're doing our final tests and there isn't any teacher supervision so he essentially decides to do the test for us. (Chemistry and highschool in general for me were really easy). So he starts listing off the answers in sentences, for us to copy down as he says them.

Our teacher, Mrs. [Teacher], then walks in and sees us two and Thomas. She looks over at him and asks if he's helping us on our tests - Thomas looks over at her confused and says that he wouldn't help us cheat. He then walks over to some containers of magnesium strips and tells her he was just playing around with he chemistry supplies, since it was the last day of classes.... Maybe she bought the excuse or maybe she could have just given less of a fuck (she was pretty awesome that way) but she walks out to another class.
While trying to light magnesium stripes on fire (Ow, my retinas!) Thomas then goes back to dictating the answers to the tests' questions. Because of Thomas, [Friend] and I both managed to pass chemistry.

My reply:

Me: "Hehehe, I'm awesome!"

What 13 year olds do

Although I am tipsy/drunk, this is not a drunk post.

It is an aristocratic post. It is culture in it's purest form. We are the privileged. This is power in it's natural shape of knowledge....
...or compelte bullshit - you decide.

-------

I have a new method of writing, inspired by a previous drunk post. Blue writing now signifies writing in French. Comme ici pute, c'est ma propre example.

The normal white font writing is the translation that follows. In accordance with the previous blue sentence, here is the translation that follows: Look at this slut, this is the example.

Why do I even need to include the French version, since probably none of you even care? Well, that's simple:
This is my blog. The French language is part of my culture. Fuck you. I want it to be here, so here it is.... Bitch.

Moving on to the topic at hand....


This is one of the most amazing things I have overheard. It happened while I was waiting for my bus to take me downtown. It came from one particular 13 year old girl, hanging out with her other 13 year old girl friends in a park:

«Tu dois avaler.»

"You need to swallow."

My interest is peaked immediately and I focus on their conversation.

«Les gars, ils m'aiment parce qu` j'avale.»

"Guys like me because I swallow."

Hearing this, I burst out laughing. The group pf girls all look over at me. I can't hide the fact I was over listening to them and I just start laughing, while staring at them. My bus arrives coincidentally right then, so I walk on-board and I keep looking out the window and laughing at the girls, while they give me dirty looks.

Awesome. Just awesome.