Whiteness.

Ok, so I really don't have the time to be writing this post right now, but the Wright brothers wouldn't have let something like time get in the way of building their first plane, so I won't let it get in the way of my posting or my trip to RiteAid later.  See what I did there?

I apologize for the lapse in posts there, I have been overwhelmingly busy with school, grant writing, planning for BorderVenture, etc (check out BorderVenture.blogspot.com !).  And I'm likely to continue to be really busy for a good while, so I apologize in advance for near-future lapses in posting.  I just wanted to let you know that my lack of posts was due to business and NOT a lack of reasons why I don't drink coffee.  I thought some might be concerned I was running out of ideas after receiving an email from a friend with a reason why someone might not drink coffee.  I'm sure she didn't think I'd run dry, but it brought my attention to that potential concern.  Anyway, on with it already!

To you white people out there (myself being one of them): have you ever had a day, or a time, or an experience when you maybe regretted being "white"?  Or maybe you just wished you were a little less white? When I say white, I'm referring to the whiteness that makes a blog like StuffWhitePeopleLike.com so damn entertaining.  Tragically white, if I may.  For example, perhaps when playing a spirited game of basketball?  (or maybe when playing any sport at all?) Or perhaps when someone brings up Arizona politics?  Or maybe, more likely as a male, when you try to dance with chicks at a club?  Or in my case, perhaps when you decide to run and hike 400 miles of the Arizona-Mexico border?  Or anytime when you've been in a foreign country that wasn't predominantly white? And to everyone else: I'm sure there are many times that you've been embarrassed for a tragically white person, and though you certainly wouldn't want to hang out with that awkward white ass of a person, you maybe wished they'd be a little less "white".  We've all been there, don't deny it.

Well, when thinking about all those times when you had wished you were less "white", or you wish the guy or girl next to you was less "white,"  I'd like you to go to www.StuffWhitePeopleLike.com, and scroll down to the very bottom of that post.  There you will see that the VERY FIRST POST about what white people like is........

You got it, COFFEE.  Don't be so tragically white all the time, and put down that damned cup of coffee.

thx2lns4beta

I feel awful.

Absolutely awful.  I woke up this morning (it was still dark out) feeling like I'd swallowed a poisonous, spiky bowling ball.  I went to the bathroom to try to address the issue with no luck.  I went back to my room to check what time it was, thinking "it's probably almost time to get up anyway," only to see that it was 1 am.  Damnit.  Trying to lay back down seemed to elevate my internal agony-level, so I migrated back to my futon with the plan of sleeping in a sitting-up position with the futon in couch-formation.  This seemed to alleviate some of the pain, but all that moving around seemed to get the bowling ball excited, and it started doing gleeful somersaults in my stomach.  Unsure of what this new development would lead to, I grabbed the large pot I use for brewing beer from my closet and placed it close by on the floor, ready for whatever disaster might strike.

Well, I started to fall asleep with the pain coming in gentle waves, saltwater lapping tenderly at my open wounds.  You get used to anything after a while, really.  My neck started to hurt so I started to gradually work my position back toward something more comfortable.  I went too fast the first time and found myself reaching for the ole brewpot, but after sitting back up I realized it wasn't yet its time.  Now, more slowly, (we're talking over the course of 2 or 3 hours), I was able to eventually settle into relative comfort lying on my back.  Sweet, sweet, intermittent slumber.  Eventually, around noon, I dragged myself from my room-made-torture-cell and sat down on the couch next to my roommate, still feeling like the walking dead.  I explained my evening and my current state-of-being, and you know what the first thing she asked me was?  "Can I get you some tea?"  Ah ha!  I might feel like death, but that bowling ball of agony has receded into something feeling more like a softball of extreme discomfort, and I'll be damned if tea didn't come out on top of coffee once again.  

Unless you're truly an addict and convinced you're going to die anyway, you would never EVER drink coffee on an upset (tortured) stomach.  Tea on the other hand can be quite pleasant. Honey vanilla chamomile or peppermint tea please!