Thursday, October 25, 2007


Wow, that title really makes this sound like it is going to be some super emo emotional pain thing post. But I'm talking about true physical pain here.

Story time:

So, I finished some models in architecture today:

And decided I didn't want to go back to my room at 7:00. I needed something to do though, and looking around my desk, I discovered wooden sticks, string, glue, and newspaper. Know what that's a recipe for? You guessed it: A KITE!!!

Only problem being that somewhere in the construction process, my box cutter decided to make an attempt at removing the end of my finger:

We were out of band-aids in the studio so I had to walk across the street to CVS to buy some. The lady behind the register thought it was rather amusing that I was buying band-aids when she saw I had a paper towel taped onto my finger and a bunch of dried blood on my palm.

Then on my way back a couple guys asked if I wanted to buy some weed. I turned them down. One guy truned to the other and said "dude. We're in Austin. Why can we not find anyone that smokes?!"