Solar power please.

While at the gas station a few days ago I slid my debit card through the slot and did something I have never done before.  I typed my PIN number in with my left forefinger.  This in itself isn't much of a story, for that matter neither is what's coming, but bare with it.  The fact that I had my left hand up while pulling the gas nozzle from the holster and swinging it over to the tank with my right hand, my left hand was on a decline to be left stagnant at my side while the gold from the Middle East went sloshing into my thirsty car.  Well, there must have been some gas left in the hose when the person before me drugged the planet a bit more and it came pouring out all over my left hand and arm.  Now, as much fun as it is to have a liquid billow out of a hose and all over my body is, gas is probably not the idea I had in mind for a good time.  The most amazing thing about having gas poured all over your arm and hand is the fact that it soaked into my skin so quickly.  I was afraid to stick the nozzle into the tank for fear that I might burst into more of a flame than I already am, but I cautiously started to pump the gas in while I sobbed.  I walked over to the station man and asked for the bathroom key to cleanse my soul and he said, "it's already unlocked, it's broke so we keep it open".  So then I thought about licking the grease from his body and walked over to the bathroom.  Wait a minute...what if I needed to actually use the bathroom instead of just washing my hands?  This is how pretty little girls get raped.  The door doesn't lock so anyone could just walk in at any time.  A brutha might have needed to bust out the shank inside him.  I can't use public bathrooms in itself let alone one that could be for the public viewing.  Just my bare ass on a toilet for the world to see.  Nope.  Anyway, the sopa was a plenty and the water was hot so for a gas station restrooms go, it was the Hilton.

The point of this story that makes no sense is, I still smell like gas.  It has been 3 full days and 2 full showers and my hand is still stank ass.  Not to mention it got all in my watch and the soaking of it in soapy hot water isn't seeming to be helpful.  So yesterday at work I spent the most of the night just deep breathing in my watch fumes.  It was a good time by the third hour of my fume intake-athon.  It also helped that my body was running on nothing but dill pickles and a half a bag of chips i dipped into honey BBQ sauce from the acclaimed Dollar Tree.  My mind was eager to be abused as well as my soul.  The fact that I didn't mind getting buzzed by the fumes was enough to maybe pour gas on my body more often.  It was the slight burning sensation that snapped me out of it late last night.  I couldn't sleep a wink but to block out the pain.  Needless to say the only liquids being poured on me as of late, besides water for bathing,  will be urine.  And that is only at Christmas.