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31 October 2007 - Has high blood pressure got a hold on me or is this the way that I'm supposed to feel?

I now have indisputable visual evidence that the universe is in full support of my addictions.

I'm sitting at my laptop, alternatingly bitter over the fact that the new episode of Weeds isn't online and that I can't find the new Stereophonics album on iTunes. I'm all set to type out some depressing, moody, Ben Folds-inspired post about how you can't petition the Lord with prayer...when KNOCK KNOCK.
Now, not too many people knock on my door. My room's at the very end of the hall and the leg work arouses more phone calls than half-marathon knocks. So who the hell could be at the door, waiting to blow my house down?
Odds are it's someone who has the wrong room # or one of my roommate's bizarre Malaysian yakuza cohorts.
But instead, it was a group of three borderline-attractive girls with odd, cylindrical backpacks. Yeah, it was a safe bet they were part of the new religious cult dedicated to Stan Lee, but at this point of ennui you'll do anything for something different.
No, they weren't a cult. No, they weren't hookers. No, they didn't have the wrong address.
They were part of the RED BULL MARKETING TEAM and were handing out free cans.

And let me tell you, brothers and sisters, for the first time in my life I am truly alive! I have been to the mountaintop and I was baptized in the caffeine and taurine rivers and I am born to love again, a brand new man.

I haven't touched the stuff in well over 9 months. But that first sip was like an old friend giving me a hug. "I've missed you," said Red Bull as I got progressively more and more jacked. I'd forgotten what it's like to ride the snake and take a ride on the back of the blue bus. My eyes are open wide, my hands are twitching and my heart is beating harder than a 14 year old who just discovered himself.
Suddenly, life isn't so bad anymore. I have the energy to actually sit down and finish up my screenplay. I think I'll start studying for my next final (even though it isn't for another 6 days). And I might clean my room while I'm at it.
And if I have enough energy before my buzz crashes, I might run down to the supermarket and pick up my next fix.

All this thanks to a fateful knock on my door and an angel holding a tall little can. They say that Red Bull gives you wings, but I swear that this girl already had a pair. If that isn't divine intervention, I don't know what is. I'd chalk this up to The Secret, except that I wasn't imagining Red Bull at the time.
I've been having problems believing in a higher power...until now. Praise the Bull!


Death to the infidels,
MGD
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Comments

Chris Brigham said…
Hey man, the only thing wrong with this story is that there's a picture of Red Bull cans instead of a picture of the hot girls who came to your door. And for the record, you should have Tucker Maxed that shit, invited them in for Red Bull and vodka, and seen where the night went.
November 2, 2007 at 10:45 AM
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