the game

Happy…Thanksgivikah?

Hey, look who’s FINALLY posting!

It’s been a while, but The Big Cheese and I both figured it was a fitting time to post. We all know we’re thankful that I’m back, am I right?

*cue laugh track*

*cue crickets*

*awkward silence*

Regardless!

On behalf of everyone here at JustWroteABlog and NekkedSnake.wordpress.com, we’d like to ask you to watch this video.

(As well as have a wonderful, Happy Thanksgiving weekend. Safe shopping, fun partying, best wishes.)

Wow, do I feel stupid.

Forgetting something that you reminded yourself about 2 minutes earlier. One of the worst feelings, ever.

I’m in high school. I try to keep my locker organized. Being 6 feet tall, I keep the books I need to take home at the top shelf of my locker, eye-level. I throw all the useless binders and folders on the bottom.

But, I’m in high school. I have the memory (and attention span) of a lifeless twig.

I told myself that I’d take my Spanish textbook home after Spanish class, which is the first class I have in the morning. Then, once again, I told myself to take my Spanish book home after AP World History class, around noon. And so the end of the school day comes around at 2:20.

I get to my locker. I unlock it. I throw the lock under the Spanish textbook on the top shelf, as usual. I’m conversing with my buddy, who for the sake of anonymity shall be called Bush, and I zone out from the conversation to make a mental list of the things I need to take home.

  • Spanish textbook
  • Homework folder
  • Agenda

Bush keeps blabbering on and on about the awkward stare down he had with the “hot girl in our English class” whilst I rummaged for my skateboard and proper folders.

I get everything I need.

I grab the lock from under the textbook. Lock the locker. Walk away.

A couple of hours later, on the way home from a little after school skateboard session with my buddy, I realize something. I FORGOT MY TEXTBOOK. Panic races through me, for I have the most strict Spanish teacher in the school. “Goddamn it, my fucking luck…” I continually repeat to myself. I frantically search through my phone’s contact list. I blank out on whose numbers I do and do not have.

Thank Mark Zuckerberg (and his underlings) for Facebook. One friend, who shall be called Shelly, whose number I did not have, shares the same teacher. She was able to send me pictures of the textbook pages that I needed to copy and translate.

There was no point to this story. All I was getting at was that I’m an insanely forgetful person, and I need to work on my short term memory. What a waste of your time.

Hopefully you’re still reading. I just made you lose the game.