No Alliteration Thursday: Ingram’s Odyssey

It was 8:30 on the date of June 26th, and a wiser man would have seen this day for what it was.  A great day.  The kind of day God does not like to bestow upon humble Bobby Ingram.  A wiser man would have known that something of catastrophic proportions was about to, as they say in da Hood, go down.  I am not a wiser man.

Following a fantastic day spent with a few of my TCNJ friends, it was decided that my Sasha was to meet Stacie’s Sasha, and it was to happen immediately.  Now being the courteous guy that I am, I allow my baby out into the backyard to go to the bathroom before bringing her to someone else’s house.  Sasha didn’t get the memo.  Upon being allowed into Stacie’s backyard, Sasha decided to take approximately 83 craps in the course of 15 minutes, while Stacie and Jaclyn laughed at me.

Sasha, shown after having crapped one of her paws off

Now the Sasha incident doesn’t actually relate to the real fun of the night, rather acted as a harbinger of things to come, for that day was no ordinary Sunday, it was also the day before I had orientation for my new job as a camp counselor.  Now, for a normal person this is a simple situation, go to sleep early, wake up and roll out for fun times at the new job.  I am no normal person.  For me this involves first finding out what time I have to be at work, which I obviously wait until the day before to discover.

Fortunately I had the foolproof plan.  I would simply call Corey, and he would fill me in on the required information.  Small snag, Corey wasn’t home, he was in the city at the Mets vs. Yankees game.  No problem I’ll just give his cell phone a ring.  No answer.

*NOTE*It should be noted that Corey’s cellphone display doesn’t really work any longer.  It may have to do with having been run over, which may have been my fault.  That’s beside the point though.*NOTE*

Now when I say I called Corey, I don’t mean once or twice.  As a matter of fact, he would later inform me that one of the few functions his phone could still perform was to tell him how many calls he had missed.  Apparently eleven.

As anyone who knows me will tell you, I’m not exactly a morning person.  There’s a distinct reason all my classes next semester come no earlier than 2 p.m.  So it was urgent that I get the necessary information by some reasonable hour, or I would not be waking up for work.

So midnight rolls around and I have no response.  Obviously his phone is either not with him, or he cannot hear it at the game.  Plan B.  AIM.  A simple concise message would inform Corey to kindly tell me when work was to begin.

It was at this point I checked to see how long it had been since the game ended, in an attempt to figure out when Corey would get my messages.  Oh great, just after midnight.  Good thing traffic in the city isn’t bad, they should be home in a giffy.  Just great.  1 a.m.  I would give Corey to 1 a.m.  Until then I would just have to play a little Final Fantasy X.

So its 2 a.m. and still no word from Corey.  As a minor plus, my FFX characters can now kill with mind bullets, that’s telekenisis.  Unfortunately, a big minus must be pointed out, that being that mind bullets would not allow me to know what time work was.

HALLELUJAH!!!  One of my friends came online.  Surely he was at the game, and thus Corey will be home soon.  He wasn’t at the game, nor did he know what time work was.  Damn you Taco.

2:30.  That’s when I said fuck it.  Left a note to be woken up at 7:30 and went upstairs to sleep, intent on waking up and viewing Corey’s response, and possibly speeding to work.

2:45.  That’s when Sasha started freaking out.  Taco it seems, had gone out, and decided to drop in on Bobby.  Well, after cleaning up Sasha pee (cleaning up after the mutt becoming a sort of second-rate theme of the night) I talked to Dan, who informed me he thought Corey mentioned work was at 7.

Fuck that.  I don’t get up by 7, let alone up and out in time to be somewhere at 7.  Like any logical person would do, this causes me to amend my note to be woken at 7:00 on the dot.  Compromise.

It is now closing in on 3.  All attempts at finding the letter which should hold the desired information have failed, due mainly to my brother taking over the livingroom, and doing whatever the hell he wanted with anything of mine in there.  It’s panic time.  This I believe is when call number eleven was made, and then genius struck.  Farruggio was at the game too.  I’ll call him!

Yeah, so they’d been home for over an hour.  Asshole went to sleep without checking his instant messages.  I’d have to kill him for that.  Fortunately Dan thought he had heard him mention being at work by 8.  This was after 7, so I went with that, finally getting to sleep around 4  a.m.

Apparently, in the Ingram household, “Please wake me at 7 a.m.  ❤ Bobby” means “Allow Bobby to sleep until he wakes on his own accord at 7:32 a.m.”  I didn’t know that.  No time to shower, I roll out.  Technically going nearly double all speed limits is not legal, but damnit it gets you somewhere fast.

Well, being who I am, I drove past the parking lot, so I turned around at the next lot, a big house with a gravel parking lot.  I park the car, and follow the provided signs through the woods.  After a few minutes, they led me to a big house.  With a gravel parking lot.

So I’m finally at work, albeit a minute or two late.  ‘Why are there so few cars?’ I ponder.  I go inside, and am promptly informed the orientation would begin around 8:30 a.m.  God hates me.

Corey rolled in some time around 8:45.  He had still yet to check his messages.  I hate him.

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