I fucked up big time.

I am a colossal fool.

I don’t like myself right now.

So, I found out why I don’t have my money. It is because I forgot to submit that disability form months ago. Now I have to send it in. And it can take six weeks to process that disability form. Which would mean I am fucked.

I am going to speed things up by couriering it. But then my fate will once more be in the hands of government, and this time, I will have even less of an idea when the money will happen.

I am so sick of tripping over my own placid ignorance all the time. I am trying  hard to get my shit together but sometimes it feel like I will never catch up and there will always be that one thing I forget that bites me on the assets and makes me look, and feel, like an idiot.

I know I say this every time I do something like this, but I really do feel like I need a handler. Someone alert, competent, and organized. Some thorough,  hardworking, conscientious, and reliable. Someone, in short, who is everything I am not.

Unfortunately, Joe already has a job.

I am thinking of going out to eat after class. (Oh, right. I am in class now.) I have the money left over in this week’s budget, more or less, and I could really use something to lift my spirits, I am going to try to avoid going to White Spot, though. This neighborhood is full of restaurants I have not tried and some of them serve food my roomies don’t care for ergo, I don’t usually get to eat them. I could really go for some Indian or Mexican food.

Either way, it involves spicy bean dishes.

No guarantees  though.  I might go for tried and true instead. Maybe they serve nachoes at White Spot.

(—)

Sigh. Here I am at White Spot. I tried to find an alternative. I downloaded the Yellow Pages app and checked out what was around there. I walked up Ackroyd looking at and considering each restaurant I saw. I even went into Ebisu (sushi joint, has the little conveyor belt thing, love it) with full intent to buy, byte the only seats they had were at the bar, and I hate eating at the bar.

Always results in a sore neck and neck and hence a poorly digested meal. This is the price I pay for being of above average height.

I am kind of racing the clock tonight. I don’t have much battery life left. But I am determined to keep blogging until the battery runs out or I am done eating, whichever comes first.

The lack of battery life almost convinced me to skip eating out. After all, without being able to blog to my heart’s content, it wouldn’t be the “full experience” of dining out.

Luckily, I recognized that as whiny loser thinking and set out anyhow.

Food is here, more on this later.

(—)

One nutritional interlude later….

(trigger warning : acetic acid )

Wow, they have malt vinegar here!

I guess it is not impossible for me to benefit from something becoming trendy after all. Malt vinegar is tres chic these days. Aparrently it is super good for you. And I learned this from a pretty intelligent group of furries (the crowd at my usual hangout) so I am more inclined to believe it than if it was some article on the Internet somewhere.

And they claimed adding a little malt vinegar made a huge difference in their life. Better digestion, more energy, a cleansed feeling. And we are talking about just a couple of tablespoons a day.

Myself, I like the taste, and have some fond memories attached to it, but there is something more. It’s like I am drawn to it. I assume that it fulfills some obscure nutritional deficit that my usual diet can’t address.

I shall look it up on Wikipedia when I get home.

Fries round two hath arrived. More later.

(—)

681 words while out. Not bad!

Home now, natch. Ended up playing a lot of woosh tag with the wait staff ’cause the Spot was jumpin’, especially for a random Tuesday night in November.

Whoosh tag is where you are talking to the wait staff (nice girl, didn’t catch her name) and you say one thing and they whoosh off. Then, you wait for them to come back, because by the time they are back, you need another thing, or you still have things you wanted the first time but never got a chance to ask for because WHOOSH!

So it took me a surprisingly large number of requests to get my drink, my vinegar, my meal, my refills, my second wave of fries, and the extra napkins I always end up needing.

I don’t know about malt vinegar’s other health claims, but it sure as hell cleared out my sinuses.

No big deal. My battery lasted longer (and for more words) than I thought it would. Although I should give serious consideration to bringing a backup means of entertainment with me, tho. Like a book.

Speaking of books, we watched clips from The Human Zoo, a series by Desmond morris based on his book of the same name, which I own. It doesn’t surprise me that there’s a series to go with the book, but it does delight me, and I shall try to find a way to watch it in its entirety.

There was also some stuff about the Stanford Prison Experiment, hosted by none other than Doctor Philip Zimbardo, the guy behind the notorious experiment. Funny how a guy can turn being the central figure in a study so widely considered evil that it gets mentioned in the same breath as the Milgram experiences into being an international best selling author, TV host, textbook advisor, and evil beard model.

Smooth move, Zimbardo!

There was one memorable moment in the footage of the experiment. At one point, one of the prisoners gets really rebellious and starts yelling at the guards, and at one point he yells “Fuck you, and FUCK Doctor Zimbardo!”

That made me laugh. I was the only one laughing tho.

Well, that’s my words, folks. Don’t worry, I am already like half-over this latest screwup. I’ll be fine.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.