So, this semester, I have been trying to achieve a life balance. I demand a minimum of 5 hours of sleep each night. I eat 3 meals each day. I cut down on coffee. I allow myself to watch television. I start my assignments well in advance of the due dates. I get good grades. I don’t drink as much, except for that one night when I downed a bottle of gin, folded myself into some crawl spaces, MC puked on my legs, and then I came home and puked for an hour. But in the toilet, MC. In the toilet.
I try to stay sane.
It’s also been boring as fuck. I mean, you’ve been reading my blogs. Literally nothing is happening in my life! All I do is work. Nothing random happens anymore. I’m not…ThePeach. In fact, I’m pretty sure GinBucket has become ThePeach. Her life has suddenly become much more hilarious, just as mine has become uneventful. We’re pretty sure that my new bangs have thrown God off, and that he just went for the next available brunette.
But then, yesterday, things started…happening. Familiar things.
It started with no sleep. This is literally the week of death for me, and sleep is not an option. So, of course, this is where the coffee comes back in. COFFEE COFFEE COFFEE REDBULL WHAT?
I had been working all day on an assignment or twelve, when I got a call from my friend, a big shot reporter. He wanted to know if he could interview me for the national news. About my credit card debt.
Obviously I said yes, because he is my friend and I know what it's like to be stuck on deadline, so I did the interview. He thanked me. Then I thought about what I had done.
I just did an interview for a major national news company. About my credit card debt. My clips included quotes such as:
“Oh ya, I easily have 5 grand in debt.”
“I don’t even open my bills because they scare me. I don’t want to know what I owe.”
“I have no idea what I’ve spent my money on.”
I may have to leave the country. Like, now. I basically just broadcasted THIS blog entry, but with my name attached. To the country. At 6am, 7am, and 8am.
I spent the rest of last night working and got to bed at 3:30am. I woke up at 8 to start another day of work. HERRO COFFEE.
Work, work, work, blah blah blah…
At 3:30pm, I had to leave to walk downtown to conduct some interviews for a big radio story I’m doing. CapitalCity is in the midst of a massive blizzard, so the 45 minute walk was slightly unpleasant.
The girl who I was interviewing was very, very friendly. She fed me hot cocoa. Home made, with spices in it. Her dog was friendly, too. The dog was a cross-eyed pug. The girl said the dog had been overly inbred and was slightly retarded.
The dog’s name was Mrs. Wiggles.
Mrs. Wiggles, the slightly retarded pug, also had a minor glitch in her respiratory tract, so that she breathed like a person snoring. Every breath. Like a snore.
Mrs. Wiggles the slightly retarded cross-eyed pug, who snore-breathes.
So, that was a little weird.
After the interview, I made another 45 minute walk home in the blizzard. FauxHawk called, and while I was walking and talking, I felt a violent nudge from behind.
“AW FUCK FUCK WHAT THE FUCK!”
A gruff voice said these words from behind me. And then a hobo-ish man on a bike scooted around me.
He had hit me. With his bike. I was just hit by a bike, on the sidewalk, in a blizzard, by a hobo-ish man.
This is not the first time I have been run over by a BIKE in this city.
So, that was weird too.
I finally wandered up to my building with probably a foot of snow on my head. A lone figure was sitting on a bench outside my apartment building, hunched over for warmth, clutching a cigarette and staring into nothingness.
ThePeach: Hi GinBucket.
GinBucket: Hi Peach.
GinBucket doesn’t smoke, except for when she’s really drunk. But this is a bad week, so I didn’t question her smoking a cigarette outside my apartment building in a blizzard at 7:30pm.
I went upstairs. I checked facebook. New message, yay! New message from a stranger in a different city…weird.
Here is what it said:
Were you on the national news this morning? I heard you. We have the same name. It was confusing.
Ok. This was also weird.
My last name is very, very unusual. It’s not even a real last name. It was made up. My grandfather on my Dad’s side was a war orphan, and when he emigrated from the Ukraine the Canadian Border anglicized his Ukrainian name to make it more English sounding. That’s the name I have now. No one else in the world has the same last name.
Except for ThePeech, my new twin. She has the same last name AND THE SAME FIRST NAME as me! WHAT THE FUCK. Yes, she spells it slightly differently, but it is the exact. same. name.
And she facebook messaged me. Because she heard my (her…our?) name on the national news this morning, at 6am, 7am, and 8am. The news about my disastrous financial situation.
I did a little facebook/google stalking of ThePeech, because that is what you do when you find your twin. It turns out that she is an actress based in TheBigCity. Her last work was a movie about cheerleaders, where her role was “Cheerleader friend.”
Also, we have the same bangs
This is just…too much. I have a twin. We have the same bangs. She is a cheerleader friend.
I had to have two more cups of coffee after discovering these facts. I also ate half a tube of Pringles and 3 cookies.
To recount, in 24 hours we have:
- total public humiliation on national news about credit card debt.
- Mrs. Wiggles, the slightly retarded and cross-eyed dog who snore-breathes. Every time.
- Hit by a bike. Again.
- My twin, ThePeech. The cheerleader friend who heard me on the news.
I think I know what it means.