I was watching highlights of the Olympics one day in Australia when I saw a race. At the end of the race this runner was making a crazed face, and my heart nearly skipped a beat.
I know that face.
That’s the face I made the time I got home and the Zombie was having a party (that’s another story for another day, I’m still annoyed at him – I almost got ripped to shreds and their music sucked AND my apartment smelled awful. Oh and they poured out all my milk. Ugh. I’m getting angry again about it. He didn’t know it was so wrong … Sorry, I’m now talking to myself and typing it all out). Anywho. It was not a fun experience, and I was shocked. I made … well, this guy’s face:
I had to wonder, did the Zombie find his way to London? He didn’t ask me where the Olympics were being held. Not that it would have mattered, he’s mostly brain dead. I thought about it and realized it was really unlikely.
When I got back home I learned that he hadn’t been to the Olympics – but he had gone somewhere weird.