INSOMNIA: a haiku

Oh insomnia,
you're a homewrecker who has
come 'tween sleep and me.

NERDS, SUBMIT!

CALLING ALL NERDS! CALLING ALL NERDS!

If you think you're nerd-worthy enough to be a Revengeofthenerddd.blogspot.com Nerd of the Day, email me at BoisBande5@aol.com, telling me why!

You might just be featured as a Revengeofthenerddd.blogspot.com Nerd of the Day!
That's the prize folks!
No, there's nothing else!
Just your mug featured against the lovely pink background of my blog and a little write up about what makes you a nerd!
If you don't like the prize, don't bloody submit an entry into my bloody contest!
Cheerio!

I heart flying...NOT!!!!!

The following is an excerpt from the very lame journal I kept in Pakistan (it's lame because it's practically empty. I managed to fill up a grand total of 10 pages. Who was I kidding, thinking that I'd have time to record my Pakistani experience? I barely had time to shop, let alone journal!)
As I explained in a previous post, I developed a fear of flying post-9/11. All of my flying experiences since have been terrible, usually ending with me slumped down in my seat, sobbing.
I knew that this vacation involved a lot of flying: New York to Manchester; Manchester to Islamabad; Islamabad to Karachi; Karachi to Islamabad; Islamabad to Manchester; Manchester to New York. Now, for a person who's afraid of flying, six takeoffs is a lot like riding a donkey cart to hell without sunscreen.
I braced myself for the long hours of air time I'd have to endure and halfway through the trip, I realized that I wasn't hating it so much.
I thought I'd write about how I was loving the flying on the flight from Karachi to Islamabad. That journal entry follows (and I swear all of this happened for real. THIS is the comedy of my life.).
Warning: the following excerpt from my journal contains loads of expletives.
Warning #2: the following isn't my best writing, but could you have really done any better if you were in my situation?

1/15/06, 1:12PM Paki time

Our flight was 2 hours late because the caterers who provide food to PIA are on strike. I don't think there's going to be any food served on this flight, which, considering the volumes of food I've consumed in Pakistan so far, is probably a good thing. But, man, I'm hungry. I didn't have breakfast because I was so looking forward to our plane food.
Oh well.
Anyway, I feel like I've mostly gotten over my 9/11 post-traumatic stress fear of flying. I've been able to enjoy all of the flights I've been on so far. I mean, I still HATE take offs. I swear, my life flashes before my eyes each time the plane takes towards the sky. But, otherwise, I love being in the air, staring out at the clouds. I even have the window seat this--
HOLY SHIT!
THE PLANE JUST FUCKIN' DROPPED! IT DROPPED! OH SHIT, SMACK, HELL!
THEY'RE STILL SERVING DRINKS (in lieu of a full meal) and the seat belt signs haven't appeared yet! WHERE THE EFF ARE THE SEAT BELT SIGNS?! OMG! OH MAN! OH! I HAVE SO MUCH LIVING TO DO!
DAMMIT! I WANT KIDS! I WANT TO GET MARRIED AND HAVE KIDS!
What the FUCK is up with this FUCKIN' busted ass plane. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
This plane's shaking! I want to go home RIGHT NOW!
The plane's been freakin' dropping, shaking us like salad dressing and the seat belt sign JUST NOW GOES ON! WHAT THE EFFFFF!
The pilot just announced that we're experiencing turbulence (no, REALLY?!) and that we're going to have turbulence for 20 minutes or so (NO, REALLY?!).
Okay, I'm scared. I'm scared, scared. The flight attendants have taken their seats, which I KNOW is a VERY BAD SIGN.
I'm scared. I'm not on the verge of passing out, pissing my pants, vomiting scared, but I'm scared.
Scratch that. I'm fuckin' scared out of my mind. This is one motherfuckin' bumpy ass ride. Hell, all this writing isn't distracting me. I don't even remember what I was writing about before this freakin' turbulence started OH GOD!
WHY THE HELL DO WE FLY! DAMN THOSE WRIGHT BROTHERS TO HELL!
oh man, ay caramba, eat my shorts, holy shit, MY LIFE IS FLASHING BEFORE MY EYES.
I'm halfway down my seat and I'm crying and Shafaat's laughing at me! OH MAN.
I miss walking. I miss WALKING!
God, pls. I want to survive. Pls. be with me. I need you. I trust you. All I want is to go back home. PLEASE. WHAT THE FREAKIN' HELL IS GOING ON?
I hope my diary survives if this damn plane crashes.
Something just beeped. Two beeps! What the hell do two beeps mean!
Wait, is the plane landing? Why does the plane feel like it's descending? ARE WE REALLY CRASHING? Why don't I have a PILLOW?
Wait, the flight attendants are up and walking the aisle again. Did that male flight attendant (a semi-hottie) just joke with my dad?
Oh. I think we're going to make it. That's cool.
Phew.

THE LOVE BUG

I am stating the following of my own volition. I am not under the influence of alcohol (I'm a teetotaler, remember?), drugs (although I have just swigged back some TheraFlu...strong stuff), aromatherapy candles, or that dreamy Wentworth Miller. I am not making this statement under the threat of physical or psychological harm (I'll just open a can of Aikido on the fool who threatens me---bring it biatch). I mean what I am going to say.

Love isn't just make believe, cupid-farting-hearts-out-of-his-ass, Valentine's Day garbage.
Sometimes, it's real.
Some folks are lucky enough to live it.

I'm thrilled for you. Thank you for making me believe that it's possible (you know who you are).

Now, excuse me as I have another cup of Theraflu.
Whadya want? I said some folks...SOME FOLKS!!! The rest of us kick back with severe cold fighting formulas and fantasize about that stupid cupid succumbing to various bloody demises.

Wow. That cookie looks good.

A COLD KILLS CREATIVITY

I am so sick that the ocean of creativity inside of me has turned into a giant semi-solid mass of phlegm. Phlegm does nothing to inspire. Man this blows.

THE NERD RETURNS

I lost my heart (by "heart" I actually mean voice) and my iPod in Pakistan.
It was a helluva good time.

I CARE FOR...

...being one of the most personable persons I know. Ahem.

I CARE FOR...

...Jolly Time Mini Healthy Pop microwaveable popcorn. I'm a fan of popcorn. Eating popcorn, especially kettle corn popcorn, is like throwing a party in my mouth. The good thing about the mini bags is that they come in 90 calorie portions. Not only can I have the party in my mouth, but I can make sure that it's a low-cal party!

I CARE (VERY MUCH) FOR...

...ANDERSON COOPER & SANJAY GUPTA.

I have hearted Anderson Cooper for over a decade now. He started his career on Channel 1 News, the news show that was (and still is) broadcast in high schools across the country. I think I may have been the only student in class who actually watched it (not a surprise) and I absolutely loved AC's ambitious reporting from around the world. And anyone who's seen his program, Anderson Cooper 360, on CNN knows that this guy is awesome. He's intelligent, fearless, and he cares. Sigh. Plus, to top everything off, he's a member of the prominent Vanderbilt family. Gloria Vanderbilt is his mother and the late author, Wyatt Cooper, is his father. I tried to get a publisher at work to sign him for a memoir to be published by our company (gushing on and on about how much I adored him and how I would read anything he wrote); she pitched the idea to him but he wasn't interested in writing anything at that time. He recently signed with, I believe, HarperCollins. Sigh again.

Sanjay Gupta is one of the most amazing people on television (and, possibly, the world) today. A neurosurgeon, he's a professor of Neurosurgery at Emory University and Associate Chief of Neurosurgery at an Atlanta hospital. AND HE'S A REPORTER?! More specifically, he's the senior medical correspondent for the health and medical unit at CNN. Oh, plus, he writes a column for Time Magazine. That's one impressive resume! Seriously, whenever I bitch about how busy I am, I stop and I think about Sanjay's schedule, which MUST be grueling. I can't even wrap my head around how this guy manages to do so much on a day to day basis. Like, WHAT THE HELL (I mean this in a "I'm-in-total-awe-of-you" sort of way)?!!! I'LL FREAKIN' READ HIS MEMOIR JUST TO FIGURE OUT HOW THE HELL HE MANAGES. Plus, while he was covering the Iraq war a couple of years ago as an embedded correspondent with the US Navy's Devil Docs, he performed brain surgery FIVE TIMES!
Wow and sigh.

So, these guys should totally be our hip, hot, sexy and totally impressive nerds for the day.