The Waffle Iron of DOOM

Postal Priority or Federal Express sir?

Here is a morning for you. I wake up at 2 AM to the sounds of plastic wrap rustling, a package being opened. I knew right away it was my more than likely intoxicated room mate, so I rolled over and tried to resume my peaceful slumber. I then hear a door pop open....microwave variety. A bright light illuminated the room and a humming started up, followed by three shrill loud beeps. "Shhh Shhhh Shhh Shhhhh!!!", my roomie managed to slur. The microwave obliged. He ate, repeated the process, then fell in bed. sigh

Wake up at 7:30 for gym at 8. We're swimming. I swam. eh, 16 laps. Then it was time to go and I hopped out of the pool, knocking my heel on the side as I did. I had no idea there was a major artery in the heel! After drying myself off I created a make-shift bandage out of my towel and staggared out of the building. It wasn't long after I hopped on my bike that I remembered that my posters I ordered last week had come in at the Warwick Center post office. Naturally, since it was on the way, I stopped by. The post-9/11 University Post Office security measures certainly are in good force. After learning a complicated lock system and showing my ID on two different occasions I was able to pick up my package. Let me tell you about this package...
If you've ever had a FedEx tube package you know what I'm talking about. The most awkwardly designed shape for a tube package you could imagine. An overly long trianglual prism. Each side is juuuust wide enough that you couldn't hold it in one hand. I had a bike and a half mile to go, so naturally, even though I knew there was no way for it to work I tried to ride it back. After falling, dropping the package three times, trying to zip it into my bookbag and have it stick out the top like a large flag pole, nearly being side-swiped by a Jeep Grand Cherokee, and fifteen minutes, I decided that it was best to walk them both back. Of course, even this was no easy task as there is no comfortable way to hold a huge triangular prism under your arm stear a bike with the other. Not to mention when you're leaving a tell-tale trail of blood from your left ankle the whole way.

Thankfully I have lived to tell the story and am now two posters richer. I have to prepare to eat and go to class. I should be leaving around 6 to go home for the weekend and avoid the wrath of Fernando Hernadaze Rauel Guadalahara Phillipe, or whatever they're naming those crazy storms these days. Weather men are straight crazy....boo...or...maybe....