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16:30
Sunday 29 May 2011 Herpes and other things
So, everyone apparently likes being born in May. As well as Vicky and Cheeseballs, my brother’s birthday was in the same week. His friend gave him herpes to celebrate.  Not the real thing, but a "GIANTmicrobe" plush toy. So, he opens my door and yells, "You have herpes!" while chucking it at my head. Obviously, I was a little surprised as I hadn't known what a herpes microbe looked like. To satisfy my curiosity, I Google'd "herpes" and clicked on "Images"--for future reference, never do this. With my brother still in the room, multitudes of images came up on my 17" screen, most of them snapshots of herpes-affected areas. The majority were people's mouths. The others, well, they prompted a dialogue that went something like this... "There's a penis on your screen," pointed out my brother. "Gah! What?!" *closes tab* "How could you not know that?" "Well, it was mutilated by herpes! How was I supposed to know what it was?" "Fair point. Haha, 'mutilated'..." And that is why "herpes" is now in my browsing history. I don't know how, but my younger sibling thought the toy was a banana. I mean, I may not have known what a herpes microbe looked like, but I DO know what a freakin' banana looks like. My brother spent quite some time pegging the toy at everyone, thereby giving them "herpes". Speaking of venereal diseases, don't you just hate public transport? The Friday before last, I had to catch a train home, as I usually do on Fridays. On this particular day, though, I was extremely drowsy. The ride is about an hour long, and as a student, I have to stand up during the whole thing. I have nothing against this. Usually. So, I was standing in my little corner in the quiet carriage, blocking out the world by listening to music just as any respectable teenager would, when my eyes began to shut. The train was a crowded express, so I figured, "Why not? My stop isn't for at least another twenty minutes." I went to sleep. Now, as you know, the ground isn't smooth, nor are the train tracks. A few minutes later, the train decided to be like me and stumble. Even leaning against the wall, the shake rattled me so much that my head decided to meet the ground. Again, this was a crowded train, so my face probably would've ended up in someone's crotch (I'm that short or they're that tall, most likely the former). Seems easy to just find my balance and avoid all the humiliation that comes with face-crotching, my new term for it--it's like face-palming, but, well, you know. Try doing that while you're asleep. To me, everything is black and calm with the occasional bump from the train, one of Paramore's songs lulling me to sleep. Suddenly, my eyes snap open to the view of an incoming crotch/floor and I'm flailing about, trying to windmill my way back to my previous stance. Somehow, it works. As my panic goes away while I stare at my shoes, the humour of the situation gets to me and I crack a smile, chortling at my clumsiness. Of course, as I look up, a woman across the aisle stares at me, smirking. Her eyes are saying to me, "Yes, I did see that whole thing, and you looked like a complete fool whilst doing it." Instead of turning away in shame like a normal person would, I made full eye-contact, smiling grimly, my eyes replying, "I'm surprised no one else did. And, yes, I acknowledge my stupidity." And that is why I'll be avoiding the quiet carriage for the next few weeks. ~Jellysaur |
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