Salmon.

Here's a facebook message I sent to my little brother (16) tonight. This is after a 5 Hour Energy EXTRA crash, and I was feeling hungry.

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  • 

    14 minutes ago

    Alexis Gaither

    • HEY NICK.
      I'm so hungry right now.
      Would you like an analogy of how hungry I am?
      OKAY!
      I'm as hungry as werewolf without--nope, nope that one was going to be bad.
      
      I'm as hungry as a deaf blind mute salmon waiting just at the edge of a stream to die. But there's a slow trickle of water through its runt-salmon body, so it can't die. Its body won't die because of its natural salmon instinct to live. The salmon is slowly turning from that fresh light pink to a hue of charred grey. The rest of the salmon clan left the salmon runt there to die, but it just. won't. die. And it's not the type of salmon to have that kind of willpower. This salmon is cowardly. It wants to die but doesn't have the salmon balls to die. So this deaf blind mute grey salmon flaps at the edge of the stream, too weak to flap far enough for food. There are plenty of stream creatures for the salmon to eat, but it's too too weak.
      
      That's how hungry I am.
  • 

    12 minutes ago

    Nick Gaither

    • Okay, you woke me up. Here's a more descriptive version of your analogy:
  • 

    8 minutes ago

    Alexis Gaither

    • whoops, I forgot about the whole facebook notifies your phone thing.
      but okay i'm ready.
  • 

    6 minutes ago

    Nick Gaither

    • The salmon, once a light shade of red, now nearly grey with hunger lies deathly still. The salmon cant die however, it's body roasting in the hot sun as the salmon, attempting to drink from that life saving clear liquid, contemplated it's existence. The salmon gazed out at the waterfall, roaring with great power. He examined the other salmon up ahead of the stream, jumping out of the water 10 at a time, as if they were celebrating the gift of life. In a last effort to stay alive, the salmon tried to pull itslef off of the black and grey rocks below him, which would seal his fate very soon. With a mighty burst of stength the salmon bolted foward out of the rocks that bound it and kept it from salvation. However, the salmon, now dancing with joy, attracted the attention of a great grizzly bear, which charged over to the now frightened salmon, and devoured the salmon with it's great, blood-stained jaws of death. THE END
    • There. That wouldve been a more interesting analogy for being hungry .
  • 

    a few seconds ago

    Alexis Gaither

    • That's some quality editing right there. You're missing an obvious story line, the adjectives were mediocre at best, and you left out the important component about how the salmon came to be at the edge of the water (it's a deaf blind mute runt salmon) but overall your additions are well worth some consideration.
      Also, I believe the possessive form of "its" is in fact "its" and not "it's." "It's" would imply "it is." But I'm sure that was not purposeful. See: "The salmon cant die however, it's body roasting in the hot sun...etc." And don't forget the apostrophe on "can't."
      Overall valuable work.

A letter to those who chew.

Dear friend of a friend at the lunch table,

I have been sitting next to you at lunch for a semester now. I sometimes enjoy your company there. We sit, we complain about that teacher we both had together, and eat our Nachos Grande with apple sauce. But that's where the fun stops. Any enjoyment I could possibly have at the lunch table is flattened into the ground with those excess chicken bites of fire the second you put food into your mouth.

I often wonder if you were raised by rabid gerbils or hogs. That sickening sound coming from your saliva I didn't know could be produced by a human. When I see pellets of mystery meat spewing from your motioning mouth I gag. I gag when you lick up chili from your unwashed hands. I gag when I can view in 3D your Big Daddy pizza while it turns into a ball of spittle and processed tomato inside your mouth. I gag when you're laughing while consuming half-chewed pasta and it soars across the table into somebody else's red sauce. I physically gag.

Had I not known your eating habits my reputation of you would be in the "okay" range, but at this point you're leaning towards "a terrible soul" or "should not have survived natural selection." By now I've watched you eat like a starving crazed wolf so many times I propose one solution and one solution only.

You need to eat alone. Unless you have some revelation and you can eat like a civilized human, you need to eat your food far away from the table--anywhere else. Buy your food, visit the bathroom, chew spit lick and swallow your charred burger alone. Then and then only may you come back to the table and chat in peace.

If you don't accept this proposal that's reasonable and okay, but keep in mind that from now on if I can see or hear the food you are masticating, I will take my fist, close your jaw, and proceed to punch you with said fist in said jaw.

With love,

Your tablemate Alexis

Panties.

Panties could easily be called underwear. But people call panties panties. It's gross.

Panties are things rapists go after.
"Let me take your panties little girl."
Panties are things adolescent boys look through when the hot neighbor is out of town.
"Hey John let's go panty raid Jess' closet!"
Panties are things Victoria's Secret sells to women.
"You'll be BEAUTIFUL if you wear our new cotton panties! But not underwear. Underwear is ugly."

The dictionary considers panties "legless underpants worn by women and girls."
My mind goes to a very dark place when I imagine women and girls in anything legless, as if a group of women and girls are sitting in a lonely room wearing legless jeans or legless sweatpants.

I looked my dear friend Emily in the eyes and said "panties."

She said she thought of crime scene shows like SVU. A dead chick lies tangled in the gutters of New York and some Law & Order dude says "her panties are gone...rape?" or "her panties are torn...rape?" or "her panties are around her ankles...rape?"

Panties are never clean. They're dirty, dirty things physically and mentally.

If you read this and are still in support of the word panties, you're sick. Sick.

My genius costume.

I once went trick-or-treating as Santa. When I came up with that idea I was convinced I was the single most brilliant human being that has ever gone trick-or-treating or participated in Halloween through some sort of ritual that has or ever will live on this earth.

But you can't blame me.

Pros of celebrating Halloween in a Santa Clause costume:

- The guarantee of being nice and toasty running around the streets of Plymouth. Oh my, you're a cat? Oh, you're going home early because your little toesies are being bitten by the supernatural chill of Halloween? Yeah? Well I'm SANTA and SANTA has a large belly and a magical beard for warmth. Oh, you wish YOU had thought of Santa Clause? That's what I thought.


- Dressing up as a man has a comedic appeal nobody can deny. Imagine right now a ten year old girl wearing a beard. You just giggled.

- Why would a witch be carrying around a bag of goodies? Good question. Why would a Power Ranger be lugging around a pillowcase of candy? Yeah, that's dumb. Why would Santa be holding a sack of treats over his shoulder? Because that's Santa's JOB.

- Santa is indeed part of Christmas and not Halloween. That's irony right there! It's like "The Nightmare Before Christmas" but better.

- IT'S HILARIOUS AND CREATIVE.

Cons of celebrating Halloween in a Santa Clause costume:


- The other children will get jealous and may try to rip off your beard.


So basically it's genius. I Googled until the tips of my fingers were calloused before I found the perfect Santa, hat and all.
Best costume ever.

WOAHYOU'REINKARATETHAT'SSOCOOL.

So I'm in karate. Sometimes when I tell people they say something like "WOAHYOU'REINKARATETHAT'SSOCOOL" then

"...are...you...a black belt?" 

And I say 

"Yeah. I'm a first degree."

And that's really cool and fun and stuff, and I feel really cool and fun and stuff because somebody thinks I'm really cool and fun and stuff because I'm in karate.

Sometimes when I tell people, though, they laugh a little bit. I guess it's not that hip and groovy to be in karate.

They say

"Oh *heh* really?"

And I say

"Yeah. YEAH. Do you have a problem? Do you need me to set you straight? I'm a first degree black belt, AKA a first degree in badass ninja skills, so I wouldn't give me an oh or a *heh* or a really, okay?"

Then a few dribbles of tear form in their terrified little eyes, and I give them a nice round kick to the face for good measure.

I didn't live up to those standards the other day at my screening for second degree (the next step in my journey as a ninja at Plymouth National Karate) though.

I have to pass three screenings to get my next belt, in which I do karate stuff in front of other karate people to prove my worthiness as a soon-to-be second degree.

The screening was on Wednesday, and I learned that said screening existed in the middle of offensive side kicks on Tuesday. Naturally I stopped, put my hands on my face, whispered an obscenity, then looked at Mr. Lemon (the one who communicated this information to me) and smiled.

"Hopkins at 6:30," he said.

The word "Hopkins" echoed around me. It was back-fisting me in the face. "Hopkins" -*pop* in the face- "Hopkins" -*snap* in the temple- "Hopkins" -knuckle in the eye-. 

I don't know how to get to Hopkins.

I once got lost because I took 494 South instead of North for a good twenty minutes. I called my mom in tears.

"I. Don't. Know. Where. I. Aaaaaaam!"

I'm very talented at not following directions.

So Hopkins might as well have been Shanghai, and I was not prepared to GoogleMaps myself the way to China.

I got home after practicing at the studio for a while and asked my mom if she would take me, to which she said yes. I grinned with joy, because she didn't even flinch! Just a nice little "sure" and that was one problem crossed off of my list.

Alexis' List:

Get to Hopkins safely without getting lost or dying.

Score.

I enjoyed a few hours of happiness until she called me the next day.

"Hi Dear. Nick has a football game and I have to pick him up from school so I can't go with you to your screening."

She said something else but I just heard "merflerflahflerflahflerflahmlahmlahmlahflaaah" because I again was being back-fisted in the face by the idea of driving myself to an unknown destination.

Panic-stricken with thoughts of arriving late to my screening and being reprimanded into oblivion in front on a whole bunch of proud karate parents, I tried to come up with a plan.

I asked fellow AP Comp-er Carina to come with me but she had a stupid ACT thing to go to. She didn't even want to go but her mom made her! Stupid.

That was my last option. It was four o'clock and I had to leave at six. I tried doing a portion of the homework I had due the next day, but every time I sat down I felt like I was going to pee in my pants, or throw up, or cry, or spontaneously combust.

I facebooked my friend Annie and she told me to calm down.

I didn't.

Soon it was five thirty.

Then it was five forty-five.

Then it was six. Six o'clock. Six at night.

Then it came to me.

GPS.

My mom's car has a built in GPS. My mom's car has a built in GPS. My mom's car has a built in GPS!

So we switched cars and I got there just fine. Yup, just fine. I pulled in to Hopkins National Karate with ten minutes to spare. The flickering red National Karate sign might as well have been the golden white gates to heaven because I was THERE.

But I think the whole ordeal was too much for me, because I ended up having a panic attack. Literally, a panic attack.

I fished my twenty multiple round kicks, then couldn't breathe. I was wheezing all over the place like a fool.

"Get your hands up, Alexis the hard part is almost over."

But then I forgot how to sweep. I mean, the woman was a lot bigger than I am and I just froze.

Then I forgot my form.

And I forgot my water.

So the thing turned into a blur of wheezing and kicking and hitting and partially falling asleep.

But I passed.