am a losebag

All right, so I spent this whole weekend braving crazy rapids in a small kayak. I had some great moments and a few good rolls and came out unscathed. Last night, my friends and I drove back exhausted. When it was my turn to drive, everyone else fell asleep and I was left trying to stay awake by eating pretzels, the really big, fat ones. It was a wee bit unkind for everyone to fall asleep at once, but then, it was also stupid for me to eat pretzels, the world's saltiest food, while driving. At any rate, I popped one in my mouth that split into two. One piece went down my throat and the other lodged itself in the roof of my mouth. I tried to dislodge it with my tongue with no luck. Then I tried to use my fingers. Then I started to panic. All I could think was, this is how I'm going to die. I'm driving at high speeds on an interstate and I'm going to choke on a pretzel, lose control of the car and my friends are going to die, and man, is my obituary going to suck.

Then the pretzel came loose and I swallowed it. And I am a losebag.

The other stupid thing I did this weekend was read this book, alone, in a tent in the rain. I'm not sure the combo of solitude, darkness, wilderness and pouring rain is optimal for reading a book about someone's descent into madness. See above pronouncement that am losebag.