On a time crunch to make it out the door for an SDSU-sponsored event, I ran into my Dad’s bathroom to quickly partake in some dental hygiene before proceeding with my plans to drive at highly illegal speeds to campus.

I grabbed onto the faucet and turned it to the left, turned my body around, and turned the corner out of my Dad’s bedroom.  Since Weezy F Baby was blasting from my speakers, it took me a second to realize that what I was hearing was not Lil’ Wayne’s familiar drone but a sound that confirmed that the water had never shut off.  When I sprinted back into the room, the sink was already filling quickly while the drain defectively attempted to keep up.  I had unintentionally broke the faucet.

For the next 20 minutes, I multi-tasked with my cell phone (desperate pleas for help), a bucket at my feet (which I discovered later to be cracked on the side), the largest cup I could find (that originally had grape juice in it, which I drank), and hysterical shoveling of said streaming water from cup to bucket, bucket to tub.

I’m drenched from waist to feet, in a flooded bathroom, late for a date, make-up smeared, hair held up from the water with my mouth and all I could think was… ‘What the hell is Lil’ Wayne talking about?!’

There’s no denying that the crap on the radio is catchy as hell, but after being forced to listen to the lyrics amid the chaos in my bathroom, I’m almost positive that the music industry is slithering into America’s subconscious and consequently decreasing I.Q. points en masse.

Last Friday, after some heavy procrastination, I woke up at 4:45AM to finish (or start.  Whatever.) a paper due later that morning.  Like most days, I drowsily pulled my body upright and rubbed my eyes out a little.

Only… this particular morning was different.

When I reached up to wipe the sleep off of my face, my arm didn’t have to extend as far as it usually does.  Both my eyes had swelled so abruptly and so severely that for a second, I thought I had grown two new heads overnight.  After the initial hyperventilation and attempts at crying in pain, (which failed, because my eyelids refused to let my tears flow down my face as it had grown so large, the Pacific Ocean could have been contained in them without trouble) I desperately shot at each remedy the Internet — gold mine that it is — proposed.  Bookmark this blog for future reference, in case God ever decides toy with your ability to see and/or enter the public eye sans traumatic rejection from society.

1. Hot Shower: No.  No, no, no, no.  My Dad, equally perplexed by my condition, advised me to take a hot shower to ease the swelling.  It wasn’t until later that I found out that blasting your face with extreme temperatures is one of the worst things you can possibly do to yourself in this state.  My eyes multiplied in size.
2. Cucumbers: Many websites suggested resting cucumbers, tea bags, and even apple slices on your face to reduce your protruding eyelids.  I should have assumed from the start that blindly chopping vegetables would result in multiple involuntary incisions on multiple limbs.  And this technique gets you hungry more than effectively do what it’s actually intended to.  Blind cooking is a no-no.  Many injuries will follow.
3. Makeshift Ice Pack: Melting ice leaking out of Ziplock bags all over your life.  Probably the most effective solution, but also the most annoying.  Especially when you’re standing and the cold, cold water drips onto your chest area.  It starts to get real nippy, if you get what I’m sayin’.
4. Hard Boiled Eggs: My Asian mother told me an Asian remedy that I had never heard of prior to this incident.  Boil two eggs for about fifteen minutes, pull them out of the water, lie down, and — shell and all — roll both on each of your eyes.  This eased the itching but made my face smell like hard boiled eggs for the next few days.  And, if you’re dumb and impatient like me, you will gravely incinerate what’s left of your eyelids.  You should probably wait another fifteen for the eggs to cool down a little.  (Note: if people walk in on you laying on the floor rubbing eggs on your face, you will, without a doubt, be judged.)

Joking aside, I think it was the hours of ice packing that brought the swelling down.  Oh, and the countless over-the-counter pills I popped throughout the day.

It’s been a week and the culprit still hasn’t been discovered.  I’m convinced it was those damn Procrastination Gods getting me back for the Philosophy paper I wrote 20 minutes before emailing it in.