If memory serves, last night I had a dream in which I was rather unsuccessfully attempting to help a friend conceal his fondness for pot and gay sex from his parents.
I'm not sure, because I forget my dreams quickly, but I believe the friend was my ex-boyfriend Joe.
Those of you who know Joe can now commence the hilarity.
Lunch Bandit on Homicide: funny!!
Lunch Bandit at the law library: NOT so funny!!
Somebody took my motherfuckin' lunch!! Stole it right out of the break-room fridge!! I had to take an extra half-hour to go get some greasy disgusting fast food which is not good for my diet!!
You better hope I don't find you, Lunch Bandit!! I will reach down your throat and get my lunch back!! I will treat you like Nixon treated Agnew!!
And to top it off, now my body is freaking out from the sudden infusion of grease and fat. Why, oh why didn't I get the salad?
Well. I didn't see that coming.
About half an hour, forty-five minutes ago, I was preparing a fax when I heard a noise like a cat throwing up. At first I thought it was a child starting to cry, but then I realized it was a man sitting at one of the law library tables going into a seizure.
Several students were gathering around the man, so I ran for the circulation desk and the assistant circ supervisor, who handed me the phone and went to help. I gave the 911 dispatcher our address and what details I knew (by being on the phone, I was some distance away).
I heard someone say the response time was slower due to a reduced crew for the summer. The paramedics -- I don't know how long it took them to get here, time just was out of whack.
One of the other students said the man was clutching his left side, so Jason (from circulation) and I suspect heart attack. He never lost consciousness, and is at the Emory emergency room now.
Jason told me I did good. I was just panicking -- I don't know much first aid. I hope he's okay.