i've got a continual loop of robert frost filtering through my brain, the two roads and all. where will this end up?

i owe the juicebed story from my last post. tripp and i talked about that one of us should post it and then after that the other one can post corrections, as is our way. then we laughed about that being our communication style, which is nice to be able to do.

alright, so in college i always ate and drank on my bed. in a dorm room there's really not that much space anyway so i didn't really see anything wrong with it. tripp was forever complaining about crumbs in my bed, etc, which i do (now) acknowledge to be gross.

anyway. one night -i'd say it was likely that there was some inebriation involved- i upset an entire pint glass of orange juice into my bed. rather than strip the bed, i decided to simply cover the huge wet section with an additional blanket and pretend it did not happen (thus the intoxication hypothesis, though tripp may correct me on this). the hapless discoverer of my 'solution' to the spill was poor tripp when he later crawled into bed and laid down directly in the juicy mess.

hence, juicebed. there have been variations on the theme; tripp name-checked my old fondness for those bright orange planter's cheeseballs when we were discussing this the other night, but cheeseballbed doesn't quite have the same ring to it.

yes, i was gross. i swear i am better now. i do still drink in bed though, my wee studio apartment being not unlike the dorm rooms of old. and on tuesday i created lemonadebed when i spilled nearly 12 fluid ounces of pink crystal light into my beddie-bye. but this time i must clarify that i pulled everything off the bed immediately before it soaked into the mattress. i know i shouldn't really have to even say that i did that, but, well, rereading the juicebed story, it's probably safer to provide that reassurance.

i must respond to tripp's pronouncement that juicebed is a staple in life. i thought i was supposed to be the hyperbole queen…?