Wednesday, February 02, 2005

My Hair is Falling Out

Don't worry ladies, it's not male pattern baldness, just one of my reactions to above-normal amounts of stress. It was triggered tonight by the revelation that Mrs. Cope is unable to produce our sweatshirts until about next Thursday. This is by no means her fault. I was late getting started and tried to afford Kent, being the artistic genius that he is, enough time to create an image suitable of the glory that is FME. So this Monday was too late. Tomorrow, possibly sometime during the blood drive, I am going over to a place by Tigard High School called Screen Magic to see if they can rush it. I was handling all my other stuff okay to this point, mainly through copious amounts of procrastination in addition to a hearty helping of half-assedness, but at the realization that I am quite possibly the worst rector ever the hairs justed started loosening themselves from my skull. Speeding, Neil Young and Crazy Horse at 90 decibels, even pool wasn't enough to calm my agitation. The Super Bowl cannot come soon enough.

post script
If Mr. Lum realizes I've been gone, do you think an excuse relating to 'feeling like another seizure was coming on" will handle it?

post post script
On my way home I passed by a soup kitchen. For a moment I knew that my problems didn't amount to a pile of shit. That moment was too short.

post post post script
How come Shakeer, all by his lonesome, can outblog the 22 of us put together?

8 comments:

Katie said...

Wow, Ben, solidarity...I just designed the sweatshirts for swim team to give to the sweatshirt lady...yeah, I think we have maybe 2 more weeks of the swim season.

I haven't organized the team dinner before districts yet, and I might just put it off until someone else takes over out of desperation, I haven't even been to all the meets this year, the G.A.'s got organized really late this year...I might be the worst captain ever.

But I'm honestly not that bothered.

No worries, Ben...if the juniors (and Shakeer) have a good encounter, than screw the sweatshirts...they won't seem that important in the end.

Ken said...

I'm trying my hardest to think of times when I, too, have been that sparklingly mediocre, but the best I can think of is when I let the freshmen on the retreat eat some granola bars that could have sat overnight in the same factory as machinery that may one day process vegemite that was shipped on the same freighter as people who (though they freely swore an oath of denial) might have once caught a glimpse of a small statuette sculpted by a man whose uncle's friend's grandfather's teacher's roommate had once eaten a sandwich containing traces of what may have been chemically similar to nut proteins. And two freshmen were very sensitive to nuts.

(Nothing happened.)

But, better sweet sweatshirts later than shitty sweatshirts now. (Cough. OWE. Cough.) And Ben, the juniors will remember it better if the leaders all just wear wifebeaters anyway. Torn, muddy, man's man wifebeaters. THAT is how a men's retreat should be run.

Ben said...

Ken, didn't I explain to you how Ben Vincent, Rogue Rector, totally escaped Lum's iron fist during the blood drive, drove to a place in Tigard, made arrangements, and came back before anything was noticed. I'm pretty sure I did. Big thanks to Adrianna and Cynda for covering for me. The sweatshirts should be done in time. I'd say I was sticking it to Lum, but he would probably like that.

Katie said...

Ken, there's a reason companies include on the packaging of foods that it was "processed on shared equipment with foods that contain nuts"...

PEOPLE CAN DIE FROM TRACES OF NUTS.

Like my little brother.

So you can take your suppposedly nut-free granola bar and shove it.

Gah.

Oh, and at least we managed to convince somebody that orange sweatshirts with teal writing was a bad plan...so it could have been a lot worse...and at least yours doesn't have blue ink splatters on it because somebody's brother left a blue pen in his pocket and it exploded in the dryer.

imac said...

Once again, the sweatshirts were unquestionably awesome. Excellent work, Ben.

imac said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Nancy said...

whoa whoa....I clearly remember taking over your spot as escort while you slipped out. I'd like some credit too...

Ken said...

Come on, Ben, I know you saved the day. But I was trying to make you feel better after you called yourself "the worst rector ever." Guess I should have paid attention in Higgins last semester when all the studious guys were learning about empathy.

Katie, don't lie, your little brother never killed anyone, and I wouldn't call him a nut.

What I was saying, anyway, was that that was a mediocre rector moment there. In retrospect I probably wouldn't have made the same choice, but it's more fun to joke about it.