So, I applied for an online college the other day. Then yesterday I had to answer a bunch of questions over the phone to get this chick at admissions to write me a recommendation. Then I answered more stupid questions online and wrote a ridiculous essay for the review commitee who will decide in 2 and a half hours if I'm accepted. Right now, I'm just going for my associates in business administration.
I also dropped of a job application at Starbucks. As I was leaving Starbucks, I watched as a firetruck drove by me on its way back to the station. That's when I kicked myself for not thiking to apply as a firemen months ago. I kicked myself right in the shin. Not a smart move either, since I then had to walk to the fire station, and the whole time my shin hurt.
I talked to this paramedic lieutenant fireman guy, and he was really helpfull. I'm turing in my application to take the physical and written tests today. He said I may be too late for this cycle though. Which isn't such a bad thing, because if I wait untill the summer, I can have my paramedic license by then. Apparently, with a paramedics license, and 5 years of military experience, he said I'm pretty much guaranteed a job. You may be asking yourself, "But Steve, how do you plan on working at Starbucks, working as a phlebotomist, going to school for an associates in business management, and going to school for your paramedic license... All at the same time?" My answer would have to be... How the fuck should I know? But crystal meth had crossed my mind.
So, I'm gonna be a friggin fireman/paramedic.
Sweet. Then I started thinking (which usually leads to catastrophic events of immense proportions) you know, I had planned on pursuing a bachulers degree in helthcare administration once my associates was done, but why the fuck would I do that, when I could get a degree in criminal justice, then take a few courses in fire investigation. Hmmmm, let me ponder this... boring ass desk job at a hospital... or be a friggin arson investigator.... I'm not exactly a desk job kind of guy.
So before my 29th birthday, I may very well be an arson investigator. It'll be so superrocktastic, that I had to make that word up, just to describe it. You should use that word too, your friends will think you're soooo cool (EDITORS NOTE: Using words Steve made up has been known to result in severe and merciless beatings from the general public). All I need are the aforementioned certifications and 3 years with the fire department. After that, I won't be just a fireman, or just a cop. I'll be a damn firecop! A firecop pirate. A Ficoprate!!! A ficoprate screenwriter. Yeah, that last one. Bwahahahaha
!!! Ooooooooh, shit. I haven't slept in so damn long. 
Can you tell? I forgot to eat again yesterday. Which is really wierd, because I prepared tonights dinner, and got it all marinating and shit. But then I still forgot to eat. My brain is such an asshole. Can you imagine what I would be like on crystal meth? So scary.
Damn, I've got a headache too. It feels like my brain is expanding in some pathetic attempt to escape from my head. Either that or he's in a moshpit. He and I don't get along. Here's an example of a general conversation with my brain:
Brain- Hey Steve.
Me- Whadya want, you damn dirty brain?
Brain- Do you remember when you parked your truck 5 hours ago?
Me- Am I gonna have to sniff more paint fumes to shut you up again?
Brain- Heh heh, well guess what? You left your lights on!
Me- I fucking hate you
Brain- Ha!!!
Me- We'll see how funny it is when I stab you in the temporal lobe!
A battle ensues. Each side, just as vicious as the other. Many cellular goups are lost in the struggle. When the dust clears, I'm smoking a cigarette, and my brain is moshing again.
By the way, I think my myspace name is eithe Steve or Steve M or something. I'm not entirely sure, and still haven't gotten around to making a journal entry. Maybe today. Or maybe not today. Oooooooh, my journal has a mysterious ending!
I also dropped of a job application at Starbucks. As I was leaving Starbucks, I watched as a firetruck drove by me on its way back to the station. That's when I kicked myself for not thiking to apply as a firemen months ago. I kicked myself right in the shin. Not a smart move either, since I then had to walk to the fire station, and the whole time my shin hurt.
I talked to this paramedic lieutenant fireman guy, and he was really helpfull. I'm turing in my application to take the physical and written tests today. He said I may be too late for this cycle though. Which isn't such a bad thing, because if I wait untill the summer, I can have my paramedic license by then. Apparently, with a paramedics license, and 5 years of military experience, he said I'm pretty much guaranteed a job. You may be asking yourself, "But Steve, how do you plan on working at Starbucks, working as a phlebotomist, going to school for an associates in business management, and going to school for your paramedic license... All at the same time?" My answer would have to be... How the fuck should I know? But crystal meth had crossed my mind.
So, I'm gonna be a friggin fireman/paramedic.
Sweet. Then I started thinking (which usually leads to catastrophic events of immense proportions) you know, I had planned on pursuing a bachulers degree in helthcare administration once my associates was done, but why the fuck would I do that, when I could get a degree in criminal justice, then take a few courses in fire investigation. Hmmmm, let me ponder this... boring ass desk job at a hospital... or be a friggin arson investigator.... I'm not exactly a desk job kind of guy.
So before my 29th birthday, I may very well be an arson investigator. It'll be so superrocktastic, that I had to make that word up, just to describe it. You should use that word too, your friends will think you're soooo cool (EDITORS NOTE: Using words Steve made up has been known to result in severe and merciless beatings from the general public). All I need are the aforementioned certifications and 3 years with the fire department. After that, I won't be just a fireman, or just a cop. I'll be a damn firecop! A firecop pirate. A Ficoprate!!! A ficoprate screenwriter. Yeah, that last one. Bwahahahaha
!!! Ooooooooh, shit. I haven't slept in so damn long. Can you tell? I forgot to eat again yesterday. Which is really wierd, because I prepared tonights dinner, and got it all marinating and shit. But then I still forgot to eat. My brain is such an asshole. Can you imagine what I would be like on crystal meth? So scary.
Damn, I've got a headache too. It feels like my brain is expanding in some pathetic attempt to escape from my head. Either that or he's in a moshpit. He and I don't get along. Here's an example of a general conversation with my brain:
Brain- Hey Steve.
Me- Whadya want, you damn dirty brain?
Brain- Do you remember when you parked your truck 5 hours ago?
Me- Am I gonna have to sniff more paint fumes to shut you up again?
Brain- Heh heh, well guess what? You left your lights on!
Me- I fucking hate you
Brain-
Ha!!!
Me- We'll see how funny it is when I stab you in the temporal lobe!
A battle ensues. Each side, just as vicious as the other. Many cellular goups are lost in the struggle. When the dust clears, I'm smoking a cigarette, and my brain is moshing again.
By the way, I think my myspace name is eithe Steve or Steve M or something. I'm not entirely sure, and still haven't gotten around to making a journal entry. Maybe today. Or maybe not today. Oooooooh, my journal has a mysterious ending!
VIEW 25 of 42 COMMENTS
Yea, you also should get some sleep.