Jen's Story:
I went home Wednesday, got sick from horrible allergies and slept through Thanksgiving dinner. Friday, I decided to vacate my mom's too-small apartment and go to my best friend's house till Sunday. So I did. On Saturday, the best friend had to work for eight hours, so I took over her room and did homework. Suddenly her doorbell started ringing madly, and my best friend's mom came in her room and said there were people at the door for me. "Who people?" I asked. "Some girl and two guys," she said.
I went outside (still in my pajamas even though it was seven at night) and sure enough, it was my cousin, her boyfriend, and his best friend. I went outside in my plaid pants and said, "Do you guys know how horrible you are for showing up, unannounced, at someone else's house for me?" My best friend's mom said they could come in the living room, so they did. I told them how awful they were again, and made them wait while I went and found something besides pajamas to wear, since I had to go out with them because I couldn't leave them here for three hours till my friend came home.
So I was in her room, digging frantically through my duffel bag, in way too much of a hurry since I felt so rude for them being here. I was looking for my toothbrush, I think, but what I found instead was my Gillete Sensor Excel for Women razor, face up at the bottom of the bag, with no cover over the blade. My razor decided it would be fun to cut my finger, on both knuckles! And since it was my middle finger (on my left hand), I took this oppurtunity to walk back out into the living room with my bloodied hand and give them all the finger. Which was ten times more satisfying than it should have been, since it was not just an insult, but a gory insult. "See?" I said, "I got hurt, and it's your fault!" We left the house, and I declared that the first thing to happen was that somebody was going to buy me some damn Band-Aids. So we went to the mall, and I spent three dollars and seven cents (most expensive box in the store) on Band-Aids. I patched up my bloodied finger, walked up to my cousin and her friends and gave them the finger again. "All better," I smiled.
Jess' Story:
My brother and I drove home Wednesday after my class. (It was the only one, I might add, that I didn't manage to get cancelled for the day. Oh, and just to add to the irony, Jen was in that class with me.) After sitting in traffic for three hours, I got home, had the first real good in weeks, and went to bed.
I had to wake up way too early the next morning, to get into the car with my family and drive two hours back the way I had come the day before just to spend the day with a few dozen relatives that I can't name and have no idea how I'm related to. On a good note, I didn't have to threated to kill any small annoying children this year. On a better note, some relative or other played Denis Leary's "Asshole" song for us. The guy playing the guitar had a book of music, but he was having trouble reading from it, because the woman holding it was bouncing around, and he said her chest was too distracting.
I went to bed about four in the morning, so Friday I slept all day. Then I went to the movies and saw Harry Potter with my girlfriend. Saturday I woke up way too early and went to the flea market to spend money I didn’t have. I got some Christmas shopping done, and no one need ever know how cheap I am.
And then came Sunday. My last day of freedom, so I slept late. Then I finally woke up, and for some reason or other walked out onto the back porch. Has the weather noticed the calendar? Obviously not. It was ridiculously nice out. Hence, I decided to open a window or three. I unlatched the locks, and began to pull up, trying to open the front window.
For some unimaginable reason, however, the front window opens down. I discovered this quickly, as it proceeded to crash down and crush my fingers. After realizing that my finger was killing me, I pulled the window off me and stared blankly at the bleeding mess that was once my left middle finger. Can I mention that I'm left handed? It kinda sucked. My mom proceeded to freak out, slab about half a tube of Neosporin on my finger, and attach a giant Band-Aid. We repeated this several times throughout the day. Then another two hours in the car and back to the wonders of school.
So, as you can see, even when we're not physically together, Jess and I are way too connected. We both managed to hurt ourselves, both on the middle finger of the left hand. Fate likes to laugh at me like that. Okay, at both of us.